diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 13597-0.txt | 11177 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13597-8.txt | 11568 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13597-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 225623 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13597.txt | 11568 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/13597.zip | bin | 0 -> 225628 bytes |
8 files changed, 34329 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/13597-0.txt b/13597-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8b5af0 --- /dev/null +++ b/13597-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11177 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13597 *** + +A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH + +by + +F. MARION CRAWFORD + +1886 + + + + + + + +TO My MOTHER + +I DEDICATE THIS TALE A MEAN TOKEN OF A LIFELONG AFFECTION + +SORRENTO, Christmas Day, 1885 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The Reverend Augustin Ambrose would gladly have given up taking pupils. +He was growing old and his sight was beginning to trouble him; he was +very weary of Thucydides, of Homer, of the works of Mr. Todhunter of +which the green bindings expressed a hope still unrealised, of conic +sections--even of his beloved Horace. He was tired of the stupidities of +the dull young men who were sent to him because they could not "keep up", +and he had long ceased to be surprised or interested by the remarks of +the clever ones who were sent to him because their education had not +prepared them for an English University. The dull ones could never be +made to understand anything, though Mr. Ambrose generally succeeded in +making them remember enough to matriculate, by dint of ceaseless +repetition and a system of _memoria technica_ which embraced most things +necessary to the salvation of dull youth. The clever ones, on the other +hand, generally lacked altogether the solid foundation of learning; they +could construe fluently but did not know a long syllable from a short +one; they had vague notions of elemental algebra and no notion at all of +arithmetic, but did very well in conic sections; they knew nothing of +prosody, but dabbled perpetually in English blank verse; altogether they +knew most of those things which they need not have known and they knew +none of those things thoroughly which they ought to have known. After +twenty years of experience Mr. Ambrose ascertained that it was easier to +teach a stupid boy than a clever one, but that he would prefer not to +teach at all. + +Unfortunately the small tithes of a small country parish in Essex did not +furnish a sufficient income for his needs. He had been a Fellow of +Trinity College, Cambridge, within a few years of taking his degree, +wherein he had obtained high honours. But he had married and had found +himself obliged to accept the first living offered to him, to wit, the +vicarage of Billingsfield, whereof his college held the rectory and +received the great tithes. The entire income he obtained from his cure +never at any time exceeded three hundred and forty-seven pounds, and in +the year when it reached that high figure there had been an unusually +large number of marriages. It was not surprising that the vicar should +desire to improve his circumstances by receiving one or two pupils. He +had married young, as has been said, and there had been children born to +him, a son and a daughter. Mrs. Ambrose was a good manager and a good +mother, and her husband had worked hard. Between them they had brought up +their children exceedingly well. The son had in his turn entered the +church, had exhibited a faculty of pushing his way which had not +characterised his father, had got a curacy in a fashionable Yorkshire +watering-place, and was thought to be on the way to obtain a first-rate +living. In the course of time, too, the daughter had lost her heart to a +young physician who had brilliant prospects and some personal fortune, +and the Reverend Augustin Ambrose had given his consent to the union. Nor +had he been disappointed. The young physician had risen rapidly in his +profession, had been elected a member of the London College, had +transferred himself to the capital and now enjoyed a rising practice in +Chelsea. So great was his success that it was thought he would before +long purchase the goodwill of an old practitioner who dwelt in the +neighbourhood of Brompton Crescent, and who, it was said, might shortly +be expected to retire. + +It will be seen, therefore, that if Mr. Ambrose's life had not been very +brilliant, his efforts had on the whole been attended with success. His +children were both happy and independent and no longer needed his +assistance or support; his wife, the excellent Mrs. Ambrose, enjoyed +unfailing health and good spirits; he himself was still vigorous and +active, and as yet found no difficulty in obtaining a couple of pupils at +two hundred pounds a year each, for he had early got a reputation for +successfully preparing young gentlemen with whom no other private tutor +could do anything, and he had established the scale of his prices +accordingly. It is true that he had sacrificed other things for the sake +of imparting tuition, and more than once he had hesitated and asked +himself whether he should go on. Indeed, when he graduated, it was +thought that he would soon make himself remarkable by the publication of +some scholarly work; it was foretold that he might become a famous +preacher; it was asserted that he was a general favourite with the +Fellows of Trinity and would get a proportionately fat living--but he had +committed the unpardonable sin of allowing his chances of fortune to slip +from him. He had given up his fellowship, had married and had accepted an +insignificant country living. He asked nothing, and he got nothing. He +never attracted the notice of his bishop by doing anything extraordinary, +nor the notice of the public by appearing in print. He baptized, married +and buried the people of Billingsfield, Essex, and he took private +pupils. He wrote a sermon once a fortnight, and revised old ones for the +other three occasions out of four. His sermons were good in their way, +but were intended for simple folk and did no justice to the powers he had +certainly possessed in his youth. Indeed, as years went on, the dry +routine of his life produced its inevitable effect upon his mind, and the +productions of Mr. Ambrose grew to be exceedingly commonplace; and the +more commonplace he became, the more he regretted having done so little +with the faculties he enjoyed, and the more weary he became of the daily +task of galvanising the dull minds of his pupils into a spasmodic +activity, just sufficient to leap the ditch that separates the schoolboy +from the undergraduate. He had not only educated his children and seen +them provided for in the world; he had also saved a little money, and he +had insured his life for five hundred pounds. There was no longer any +positive necessity for continuing to teach, as there had been thirty +years ago, when he first married. + +So much for the circumstances of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose. +Personally he was a man of good presence, five feet ten inches in height, +active and strong, of a ruddy complexion with smooth, thick grey hair and +a plentiful grey beard. He shaved his upper lip however, greatly to the +detriment of his appearance, for the said upper lip was very long and the +absence of the hirsute appendage showed a very large mouth with very thin +lips, generally compressed into an expression of remarkable obstinacy. +His nose was both broad and long and his grey eyes were bright and +aggressive in their glance. As a matter of fact Mr. Ambrose was combative +by nature, but his fighting instincts seem to have been generally +employed in the protection of rights he already possessed, rather than in +pushing on in search of fresh fields of activity. He was an active man, +fond of walking alone and able to walk any distance he pleased; a +charitable man with the charity peculiar to people of exceedingly +economical tendencies and possessing small fixed incomes. He would give +himself vast personal trouble to assist distress, as though aware that +since he could not give much money to the poor he was bound to give the +best of himself. The good Mrs. Ambrose seconded him in this as in all his +works; labouring hard when hard work could do any good, but giving +material assistance with a sparing hand. It sufficiently defines the two +to say that although many a surly labourer in the parish grumbled that +the vicar and his wife were "oncommon near", when money was concerned, +there was nevertheless no trouble in which their aid was not invoked and +their advice asked. But the indigent labourer not uncommonly retrieved +his position by asking a shilling of one of the young gentlemen at the +vicarage, who were generally open-handed, good-looking boys, blessed with +a great deal more money than brains. + +At the time when this tale opens, however, it chanced that one of the two +young gentlemen at the vicarage was by no means in the position peculiar +to the majority of youths who sought the good offices of the Reverend +Augustin Ambrose. John Short, aged eighteen, was in all respects a +remarkable contrast to his companion the Honourable Cornelius Angleside. +John Short was apparently very poor; the Honourable Cornelius on the +other hand had plenty of money. Short was undeniably clever; Angleside +was uncommonly dull. Short was the son of a decayed literary man; +Angleside was the son of a nobleman. Short was by nature a hard worker; +Angleside was amazingly idle. Short meant to do something in the world; +Angleside had early determined to do nothing. + +It would not be easy to define the reasons which induced Mr. Ambrose to +receive John Short under his roof. He had never before taken a pupil on +any but his usual terms, and at his time of life it was strange that he +should break through the rule. But here his peculiar views of charity +came into play. Short's father had been his own chum at school, and his +friend at college, but had failed to reap any substantial benefits from +his education. He had been a scholar in his way, but his way had not been +the way of other scholars, and when he had gone up for honours he had got +a bad third in classics. He would not enter the church, he could not +enter the law, he had no interest whatever, and he found himself +naturally thrust into the profession of literature. For a time he had +nearly starved; then he had met with some success and had, of course, +married without hesitation; after this he had had more misfortunes. His +wife had died leaving him an only son, whom in course of time he had sent +to school. But school was too expensive and he had reluctantly taken the +boy home again. It was in a fit of despair that he wrote to his old +friend Augustin Ambrose, asking his advice. The Reverend Augustin +considered the matter with the assistance of his wife, and being +charitable souls, they determined that they must help Short to educate +his son. Accordingly the vicar of Billingsfield wrote to his old friend +to say that if he could manage to pay a small sum for the lad's board, +he, the vicar, would complete the boy's education, so that he might at +least have a chance in the world. Short accepted the offer with boundless +gratitude and had hitherto not failed to pay the vicar the small sum +agreed upon. The result of all this was that Mr. Ambrose had grown very +fond of John, and John had derived great advantage from his position. He +possessed precisely what his father had lacked, namely a strong bent in +one direction, and there was no doubt that he would distinguish himself +if he had a chance. That chance the vicar had determined to give him. He +had made up his mind that his old friend's son should go to college and +show what he was able to do. It was not an easy thing to manage, but the +vicar had friends in Cambridge and John had brains; moreover the vicar +and John were both very obstinate people and had both determined upon the +same plan, so that there was a strong probability of their succeeding. + +John Short was eighteen years of age, neither particularly good-looking +nor by any means the reverse. He had what bankers commonly call a lucky +face; that is to say he had a certain very prepossessing look of honesty +in his blue eyes, and a certain look of energetic goodwill in his +features. When he was much older and wore a beard he passed for a +handsome man, but at eighteen he could only boast the smallest of fair +whiskers, and when anybody took the trouble to look long at him, which +was not often, the verdict was that his jaw was too heavy and his mouth +too obstinate. In complexion he was fair, and healthy to look at, +generally sunburned in the summer, for he had a habit of reading out of +doors; his laugh was very pleasant, though it was rarely heard; his eyes +were honest but generally thoughtful; his frame was sturdy and already +inclined rather to strength than to graceful proportion; his head matched +his body well, being broad and well-shaped with plenty of prominence over +the brows and plenty of fulness above the temples. He had a way of +standing as though it would not be easy to move him, and a way of +expressing his opinion which seemed to challenge contradiction. But he +was not a combative boy. If any one argued with him, it soon appeared +that he was not really argumentative, but merely enthusiastic. It was not +necessary to agree with him, and there was small use in contradicting +him. The more he talked the more enthusiastic he grew as he developed his +own views; until seeing that he was not understood or that he was merely +laughed at, he would end his discourse with a merry laugh at himself, or +a shy apology for having talked so much. But the vicar assured his wife +that the boy's Greek and Latin verses were something very extraordinary +indeed, and much better than his own in his best days. For John was +passionately fond of the classics and did not propose to acquire any more +mathematical knowledge than was strictly necessary for his matriculation +and "little-go." He meant to be a famous scholar and he meant to get a +fellowship at his college in order to be perfectly independent and to +help his father. + +John was a constant source of wonder to his companion the Honourable +Cornelius Angleside, who remembered to have seen fellows of that sort at +Eton but had never got near enough to them to know what they were really +like. Cornelius had a vague idea that there was some trick about +appearing to know so much and that those reading chaps were awful +humbugs. How the trick was performed he did not venture to explain, but +he was as firmly persuaded that it was managed by some species of +conjuring as that Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook performed their wonders by +sleight of hand. That one human brain should actually contain the amount +of knowledge John Short appeared to possess was not credible to the +Honourable Cornelius, and the latter spent more of his time in trying to +discover how John "did it" than in trying to "do it" himself. +Nevertheless, young Angleside liked Short after his own fashion, and +Short did not dislike Angleside. John's father had given him to +understand that as a general rule persons of wealth and good birth were a +set of overbearing, purse-proud bullies, who considered men of genius to +be little better than a set of learned monkeys, certainly not good enough +to black their boots. For John's father in his misfortunes had imbibed +sundry radical notions formerly peculiar to poor literary men, and not +yet altogether extinct, and he had accordingly warned his son that all +mammon was the mammon of unrighteousness, and that the people who +possessed it were the natural enemies of people who had to live by their +brains. But John had very soon discovered that though Cornelius Angleside +possessed the three qualifications for perdition, in the shape of birth, +wealth and ignorance, against which his poor father railed unceasingly, +he succeeded nevertheless in making himself very good company. Angleside +was not overbearing, he was not purse-proud and he was not a bully. On +the contrary he was unobtrusive and sufficiently simple in manner, and he +certainly never mentioned the subject of his family or fortune; John +rather pitied him, on the whole, until he began to discover that +Angleside looked up to him on account of his mental superiority, and then +John, being very human, began to like him. + +The life at the vicarage of Billingsfield, Essex, was not remarkable for +anything but its extreme regularity. Prayers, breakfast, work, lunch, a +walk, work, dinner, work, prayers, bed. The programme never varied, save +as the seasons introduced some change in the hours of the establishment. +The vicar, who was fond of a little gardening and amused himself with a +variety of experiments in the laying of asparagus beds, found occasional +excitement in the pursuit of a stray cat which had managed to climb his +wire netting and get at the heads of his favourite vegetable, in which +thrilling chase he was usually aided by an old brown retriever answering, +when he answered at all, to the name of Carlo, and by the Honourable +Cornelius, whose skill in throwing stones was as phenomenal as his +ignorance of Latin quantities. The play was invariably opened by old +Reynolds, the ancient and bow-legged gardener, groom and man of all work +at the vicarage. + +"Please sir, there's Simon Gunn's cat in the sparrergrass." The +information was accompanied by a sort of chuckle of evil satisfaction +which at once roused the sleeping passions of the Reverend Augustin +Ambrose. + +"Dear me, Reynolds, then why don't you turn her out?" and without waiting +for an answer, the excellent vicar would spring from his seat and rush +down the lawn in the direction of the beds, closely followed by the +Honourable Cornelius, who picked up stones from the gravel path as he +ran, and whose long legs made short work of the iron fence at the bottom +of the garden. Meanwhile the aged Reynolds let Carlo loose from the yard +and the hunt was prosecuted with great boldness and ingenuity. The +vicar's object was to get the cat out of the asparagus bed as soon as +possible without hurting her, for he was a humane man and would not have +hurt a fly. Cornelius, on the other hand, desired the game to last as +long as possible, and endeavoured to prevent the cat's escape by always +hitting the wire netting at the precise spot where she was trying to get +over it. In this way he would often succeed in getting as much as half an +hour's respite from Horace. At last the vicar, panting with his exertions +and bathed in perspiration, would protest against the form of assault. + +"Really, Angleside", he would say, "I believe I could throw straighter +myself. I'm quite sure Carlo can get her out if you leave him alone". + +Whereupon Cornelius would put his hands in his pockets and look on, and +in a few minutes, when the cat had been driven out and the vicar's back +was turned, he would slip a sixpence into old Reynold's hand, and follow +his tutor reluctantly back to the study. Whether there was any connection +between the cat and the sixpence is uncertain, but during the last months +of Angleside's stay at the vicarage the ingenuity of Simon Gunn's yellow +cat in getting over the wire netting reached such a pitch that the vicar +began to prepare a letter to the Bishop Stortford _Chronicle_ on the +relations generally existing between cats and asparagus beds. + +Another event in the life of the vicarage was the periodical lameness of +the vicar's strawberry mare, followed by the invariable discovery that +George Horsnell the village blacksmith had run a nail into her foot when +he shoed her last. Invariably, also, the vicar threatened that in future +the mare should be shod by Hawkins the rival blacksmith, who was a +dissenter and had consequently never been employed by the vicarage. +Moreover it was generally rumoured once every year that old Nat Barker, +the octogenarian cripple who had not been able to stand upon his feet for +twenty years, was at the point of death. He invariably recovered, +however, in time to put in an appearance by proxy at the distribution of +a certain dole of a loaf and a shilling on boxing day. It was told also +that in remote times the Puckeridge hounds had once come that way and +that the fox had got into the churchyard. A repetition of this stirring +event was anxiously looked for during many years, every time that the +said pack met within ten miles of Billingsfield, but hitherto it had been +looked for in vain. On the whole the life at the vicarage was not +eventful, and the studies of the two young men who imbibed learning at +the feet of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose were rarely interrupted. + +Mrs. Ambrose herself represented the feminine element in the society of +the little place. The new doctor was a strange man, suspected of being a +free-thinker, and he was not married. The Hall, for there was a Hall at +Billingsfield, was uninhabited, and had been uninhabited for years. The +estate which belonged to it was unimportant and moreover was in Chancery +and seemed likely to stay there, for reasons no one ever mentioned at +Billingsfield, because no one knew anything about them. From time to time +a legal looking personage drove up to the Duke's Head, which was kept by +Mr. Abraham Boosey, who was also undertaker to the parish, and which was +thought to be a very good inn. The legal personage stayed a day or two, +spending most of his time at the Hall and in driving about to the +scattered farms which represented the estate, but he never came to the +vicarage, nor did the vicar ever seem to know what he was doing nor why +he came. "He came on business"--that was all that anybody knew. His +business was to collect rents, of course; but what he did with them, no +one was bold enough to surmise. The estate was in Chancery, it was said, +and the definition conveyed about as much to the mind of the average +inhabitant of Billingsfield, as if he had been informed that the moon was +in perigee or the sun in Scorpio. The practical result of its being in +Chancery was that no one lived there. + +John Short liked Mrs. Ambrose and the Honourable Cornelius behaved to her +with well bred affability. She always said Cornelius had very nice +manners, as indeed he had and had need to have. Occasionally, perhaps +four or five times in the year, the Reverend Edward Pewlay, who had what +he called a tenor voice, and his wife, who played the pianoforte very +fairly, came over to assist at a Penny Reading. He lived "over Harlow +way," as the natives expressed it; he was what was called in those parts +a rabid Anglican, because he preached in his surplice and had services on +the Saints' days, and the vicar of Billingsfield did not sympathise in +his views. Nevertheless he was very useful at Penny Readings, and on one +of these occasions produced a very ingenious ghost for the delectation of +the rustics, by means of a piece of plate glass and a couple of lamps. + +There had indeed been festivities at the vicarage to which as many as +three clergymen's wives had been invited, but these were rare indeed. For +months at a time Mrs. Ambrose reigned in undisputed possession of the +woman's social rights in Billingsfield. She was an excellent person in +every way. She had once been handsome and even now she was fine-looking, +of goodly stature, if also of goodly weight; rosy, even rubicund, in +complexion, and rotund of feature; looking at you rather severely out of +her large grey eyes, but able to smile very cheerfully and to show an +uncommonly good set of teeth; twisting her thick grey hair into a small +knot at the back of her head and then covering it with a neatly made cap +which she considered becoming to her time of life; dressed always with +extreme simplicity and neatness, glorying in her good sense and in her +stout shoes; speaking of things which she called "neat" with a devotional +admiration and expressing the extremest height of her disapprobation when +she said anything was "very untidy." A motherly woman, a practical woman, +a good housekeeper and a good wife, careful of small things because +generally only small things came in her way, devotedly attached to her +husband, whom she regarded with perfect justice as the best man of her +acquaintance, adding, however, with somewhat precipitous rashness that he +was the best man in the world. She took also a great interest in his +pupils and busied herself mightily with their welfare. Since the arrival +of the new doctor who was suspected of free-thinking, she had shown a +strong leaning towards homoeopathy, and prescribed small pellets of +belladonna for the Honourable Cornelius's cold and infinitesimal drops of +aconite for John Short's headaches, until she observed that John never +had a headache unless he had worked too much, and Angleside always had a +cold when he did not want to work at all. Especially in the department of +the commissariat she showed great activity, and the reputation the vicar +had acquired for feeding his pupils well had perhaps more to do with his +success than he imagined. She was never tired of repeating that +Englishmen needed plenty of good food, and she had no principles which +she did not practise. She even thought it right to lecture young +Angleside upon his idleness at stated intervals. He always replied with +great gentleness that he was awfully stupid, you know, and Mr. Ambrose +was awfully good about it and he hoped he should not be pulled when he +went up. And strange to relate he actually passed his examination and +matriculated, to his own immense astonishment and to the no small honour +and glory of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, vicar of Billingsfield, +Essex. But when that great day arrived certain events occurred which are +worthy to be chronicled and remembered. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +In the warm June weather young Angleside went up to pass his examination +for entrance at Trinity. There is nothing particularly interesting or +worthy of note in that simple process, though at that time the custom of +imposing an examination had only been recently imported from Oxford. For +one whole day forty or fifty young fellows from all parts of the country +sat at the long dining-tables in the beautiful old hall and wrote as +busily as they could, answering the printed questions before them, and +eyeing each other curiously from time to time. The weather was warm and +sultry, the trees were all in full leaf and Cambridge was deserted. Only +a few hard-reading men, who stayed up during the Long, wandered out with +books at the backs of the colleges or strayed slowly through the empty +courts, objects of considerable interest to the youths who had come up +for the entrance examination--chiefly pale men in rather shabby clothes +with old gowns and battered caps, and a general appearance of being the +worse for wear. + +Angleside had been in Cambridge before and consequently lost no time in +returning to Billingsfield when the examination was over. Short was to +spend the summer at the vicarage, reading hard until the term began, when +he was to go up and compete for a minor scholarship; Angleside was to +wait until he heard whether he had passed, and was then going abroad to +meet his father and to rest from the extreme exertion of mastering the +"Apology" and the first books of the "Memorabilia." John drove over to +meet the Honourable Cornelius, who was in a terrible state of anxiety and +left him no peace on the way asking him again and again to repeat the +answers to the questions which had been proposed, reckoning up the ones +he had answered wrong and the ones he thought he might have answered +right, and coming each time to a different conclusion, finally lighting a +huge brierwood pipe and swearing "that it was a beastly shame to subject +human beings to such awful torture." John calmed him by saying he fancied +Cornelius had "got through"; for John's words were a species of gospel to +Cornelius. By the time they reached the vicarage Angleside felt sanguine +of his success. + +The vicar was not visible. It was a strange and unheard of thing--there +were visitors in the drawing-room. This doubtless accounted for the fact +that the fly from the Duke's Head was standing on the opposite side of +the road. The two young men went into their study, which was on the +ground floor and opened upon the passage which led to the drawing-room +from the little hall. Angleside remarked that by leaving the door open +they would catch a glimpse of the visitor when he went out. But the +visitor stayed long. The curiosity of the two was wrought up to a high +pitch; it was many months since there had been a real visitor at the +vicarage. Angleside suggested going out and finding old Reynolds--he +always knew everything that was going on. + +"If we only wait long enough," said Short philosophically, "they are sure +to come out." + +"Perhaps," returned Cornelius rather doubtfully. + +"They" did come out. The drawing-room door opened and there was a sound +of voices. It was a woman's voice, and a particularly sweet voice, too. +Still no one came down the passage. The lady seemed to be lingering in +taking her leave. Then there was a sound of small feet and suddenly a +little girl stood before the open door of the study, looking wonderingly +at the two young men. Short thought he had never seen such a beautiful +child. She could not have been more than seven or eight years old, and +was not tall for her age; a delicate little figure, all in black, with +long brown curls upon her shoulders, flowing abundantly from beneath a +round black sailor's hat that was set far back upon her head. The child's +face was rather pale than very fair, of a beautiful transparent paleness, +with the least tinge of colour in the cheeks; her great violet eyes gazed +wonderingly into the study, and her lips parted in childlike uncertainty, +while her little gloved hand rested on the door-post as though to get a +sense of security from something so solid. + +It was only for a moment. Both the young fellows smiled at the child +unconsciously. Perhaps she thought they were laughing at her; she turned +and ran away again; then passed a second time, stealing a long glance at +the two strangers, but followed immediately by the lady, who was probably +her mother, and whose voice had been heard for the last few moments. The +lady, too, glanced in as she went by, and John Short lost his heart then +and there; not that the lady was beautiful as the little girl was, but +because there was something in her face, in her figure, in her whole +carriage, that moved the boy suddenly as she looked at him and sent the +blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead. + +She seemed young, but he never thought of her age. In reality she was +nine-and-twenty years old but looked younger. She was pale, far paler +than the little girl, but she had those same violet eyes, large, deep and +sorrowful, beneath dark, smooth eyebrows that arched high and rose a +little in the middle. Her mouth was perhaps large for her face but her +full lips curved gently and seemed able to smile, though she was not +smiling. Her nose was perhaps too small--her face was far from +faultless--and it had the slightest tendency to turn up instead of down, +but it was so delicately modelled that an artist would have pardoned it +that deviation from the classic. Thick brown hair waved across her white +forehead and was hidden under the black bonnet and the veil thrown back +over it. She was dressed in black and the close-fitting gown showed off +with unconscious vanity the lines of a perfectly moulded and perfectly +supple figure. But it was especially her eyes which attracted John's +sudden attention at that first glance, her violet eyes, tender, sad, +almost pathetic, seeming to ask sympathy and marvellously able to command +it. + +It was but for a moment that she paused. Then came the vicar, following +her from the drawing-room, and all three went on. Presently Short heard +the front door open and Mr. Ambrose shouted to the fly. + +"Muggins! Muggins!" + +No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican, had +christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the least +of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain Charles +Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and Muggins he +remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for the afternoon was +hot and he had anticipated his "fours." + +Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where +the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse +the driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed +close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the +blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt +very foolish. + +"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the +summer's sun. + +"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping +Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel. +Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only the +young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not mind +being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and brought the +fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting. + +"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she +came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then it +was the turn of the little girl. + +"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand. + +"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who +was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding out +her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than ever +as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl blushed +and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the carriage. + +"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door. + +"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered the +lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her voice. +She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful. Muggins +cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and his pupil +standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house. + +"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose, rather +anxiously. + +Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would say +something about the lady, but to his annoyance, he said nothing at all. +John could not ask questions, seeing it was none of his business and was +fain to content himself with thinking of the lady's face and voice. He +felt very uncomfortable at dinner. He thought the excellent Mrs. Ambrose +eyed him with unusual severity, as though suspecting what he was thinking +about, and he thought the vicar's grey eye twinkled occasionally with the +pleasant sense of possessing a secret he had no intention of imparting. +As a matter of fact Mrs. Ambrose was supremely unconscious of the fact +that John had seen the lady, and looked at him with some curiosity, +observing that he seemed nervous and blushed from time to time and was +more silent than usual. She came to the conclusion that he had been +working too hard, as usual, and that night requested him to take two +little pellets of aconite, and to repeat the dose in the morning. Whether +it was the result of the homoeopathic medicine or of the lapse of a few +hours and a good night's rest, it is impossible to say; John, however, +was himself again the next morning and showed no further signs of +nervousness. But he kept his eyes and ears open, hoping for some news of +the exquisite creature who had made so profound an impression on his +heart. + +In due time the joyful news arrived from Cambridge that the Honourable +Cornelius had passed his examination and was at liberty to matriculate at +the beginning of the term. The intelligence was duly telegraphed to his +father, and in a few hours came a despatch in answer, full of +affectionate congratulation and requesting that Cornelius should proceed +at once to Paris, where his father was waiting for him. The young man +took an affectionate leave of the vicar, of Mrs. Ambrose and especially +of John Short, for whom he had conceived an almost superstitious +admiration; old Reynolds was not forgotten in the farewell, and for +several days after Angleside's departure the aged gardener was observed +to walk somewhat unsteadily and to wear a peculiarly thoughtful +expression; while the vicar observed with annoyance that Strawberry, the +old mare, was less carefully groomed than usual. Strangely coincident +with these phenomena was the fact that Simon Gunn's yellow cat seemed to +have entirely repented of her evil practices, renouncing from the day +when Cornelius left for Paris her periodical invasion of the asparagus +beds at the foot of the garden. But the vicar was too practical a man to +waste time in speculating upon the occult relations of seemingly +disconnected facts. He applied himself with diligence to the work of +preparing John Short to compete for the minor scholarship. The labour was +congenial. He had never taken a pupil so far before, and it was a genuine +delight to him to bring his own real powers into play at last. As the +summer wore on, he predicted all manner of success for John Short, and +his predictions were destined before long to be realised, for John did +all he promised to do and more also. To have succeeded in pushing the +Honourable Cornelius through his entrance examination was a triumph +indeed, but an uninteresting one at best, and one which had no further +consequences. But to be the means of turning out the senior classic of +the University was an honour which would not only greatly increase the +good vicar's reputation but would be to him a source of the keenest +satisfaction during the remainder of his life; moreover the prospects +which would be immediately opened to John in case he obtained such a +brilliant success would be a very material benefit to his unlucky father, +whose talents yielded him but a precarious livelihood and whose pitiable +condition had induced his old schoolfellow to undertake the education of +his son. + +Much depended upon John's obtaining one or more scholarships during his +career at college. To a man of inferior talents the vicar would have +suggested that it would be wiser to go to a smaller college than Trinity +where he would have less competition to expect; but as soon as he +realised John's powers, he made up his mind that it would be precisely +where competition was hottest that his pupil would have the greatest +success. He would get something--perhaps his father would make a little +more money--the vicar even dreamed of lending John a small sum--something +would turn up; at all events he must go to the largest college and do +everything in the best possible way. Meanwhile he must work as hard as he +could during the few months remaining before the beginning of his first +term. + +Whether the lady ever wrote to Mr. Ambrose, John could not ascertain; she +was never mentioned at the vicarage, and it seemed as though the mystery +were never to be solved. But the impression she had made upon the young +man's mind remained and even gained strength by the working of his +imagination; for he thought of her night and day, treasuring up every +memory of her that he could recall, building romances in his mind, +conceiving the most ingenious reasons for the solitary visit she had made +to the vicarage, and inwardly vowing that if ever he should be at liberty +to follow his own inclinations he would go out into the world and search +for her. He was only eighteen then, and of a strongly susceptible +temperament. He had seen nothing of the world, for even when living in +London, in a dingy lodging, with his father, he had been perpetually +occupied with books, reading much and seeing little. Then he had been at +school, but he had seen the dark side of school life--the side which boys +who are known to be very poor generally see; and more than ever he had +resorted to study for comfort and relief from outward ills. Then at last +he had been transferred to a serener state in the vicarage of +Billingsfield and had grown up rapidly from a schoolboy to a young man; +but, as has been said, the feminine element at the vicarage was solely +represented by Mrs. Ambrose and the monotony of her maternal society was +varied only by the occasional visits of the mild young Mrs. Edward +Pewlay. John Short had indeed a powerful and aspiring imagination, but it +would have been impossible even by straining that faculty to its utmost +activity to think in the same breath of romance and of Mrs. Ambrose, for +even in her youth Mrs. Ambrose had not been precisely a romantic +character. John's fancy was not stimulated by his surroundings, but it +fed upon itself and grew fast enough to acquire an influence over +everything he did. It was not surprising that, when at last chance threw +in his way a being who seemed instantly to realise and fulfil his wildest +dreams of beauty and feminine fascination, he should have yielded without +a struggle to the delicious influence, feeling that henceforth his ideal +had taken shape and substance, and had thereby become more than ever the +ideal in which he delighted. + +He gave her names, a dozen of them every day, christening her after every +heroine in fiction and history of whom he had ever read. But no name +seemed to suit her well enough; whereupon he wrote a Greek ode and a +Latin epistle to the fair unknown, but omitted to show them to the +Reverend Augustin Ambrose, though he was quite certain that they were the +best he had ever produced. Then he began to write a novel, but suddenly +recollected that a famous author had written one entitled "No Name," and +as that was the only title he could possibly give to the work he +contemplated he of course had no choice but to abandon the work itself. +He wrote more verses, and he dreamed more dreams, and he meanwhile +acquired much learning and in process of time realised that he had but a +few days longer to stay at Billingsfield. The Michaelmas term was about +to open and he must bid farewell to the hospitable roof and the learned +conversation of the good vicar. But when those last days came he realised +that he was leaving the scene of his only dream, and his heart grew sad. + +Indeed he loved the old red brick vicarage with its low porch, overgrown +with creepers, its fragrant old flower garden, surrounding it on three +sides, its gabled roof, its south wall whereon the vicar constantly +attempted to train fig trees, maintaining that the climate of England had +grown warmer and that he would prove it--John loved it all, and +especially he loved the little study, lined with the books grown familiar +to him, and the study door, the door through which he had seen that +lovely face which he firmly believed was to inspire him to do great +things and to influence his whole life for ever after. He would leave the +door open and place himself just where he had sat that day, and then he +would look suddenly up with beating heart, almost fancying he could again +see those violet eyes gazing at him from the dusky passage--blushing then +to himself, like any girl, and burying himself in his book till the fancy +was grown too strong and he looked up again. He had attempted to sketch +her face on a bit of paper; but he had no skill and he thrust the drawing +into the paper basket, horrified at having made anything so hideous in +the effort to represent anything so beautiful, and returned to making +odes upon her, and Latin epistles, in which he succeeded much better. + +And now the time had come when he must leave all this dreaming, or at +least the scene of it, and go to college and win scholarships and renown. +It was hard to go and he showed his regret so plainly that Mrs. Ambrose +was touched at what she took for his affection for the place and for +herself and for the vicar. John Short was indeed very grateful to her for +all the kindness she had shown him, and to Mr. Ambrose for the learning +he had acquired; for John was a fine fellow and never forgot an +obligation nor undervalued one. But when we are very young our hearts are +far more easily touched to joy and sadness by the chords and discords of +our own dreaming, than by the material doings of the world around us, or +by the strong and benevolent interest our elders are good enough to take +in us. We feel grateful to those same elders if we have any good in us, +but we are far from feeling a similar interest in them. We see in our +imaginations wonderful pictures, and we hear wonderful words, for +everything we dream of partakes of an unknown perfection and completely +throws into the shade the inartistic commonplaces of daily life. As John +Short grew older, he often regretted the society of his old tutor and in +the frequent absence of important buttons from his raiment he bitterly +realised that there was no longer a motherly Mrs. Ambrose to inspect his +linen; but when he took leave of them what hurt him most was to turn his +back upon the beloved old study, upon the very door through which he had +once, and only once, beheld the ideal of his first love dream. + +Though the vicar was glad to see the boy started upon what he already +regarded as a career of certain victory, he was sorry to lose him, not +knowing when he should see him again. John intended to read through all +the vacations until he got his degree. He might indeed have come down for +a day or two at Christmas, but with his very slender resources even so +short a pleasure trip was not to be thought of lightly. It was therefore +to be a long separation, so long to look forward to that when John saw +the shabby little box which contained, all his worldly goods put up into +the back of the vicar's dogcart, and stood at last in the hall, saying +good-bye, he felt as though he was being thrust out into the world never +to return again; his heart seemed to rise in his throat, the tears stood +in his eyes and he could hardly speak a word. Even then he thought of +that day when he had waked up the sleepy Muggins to take away the +beautiful unknown lady. He felt he must be quick about his leave-taking, +or he would break down. + +"You have been very good to me. I--I shall never forget it," he murmured +as he shook hands with Mrs. Ambrose. "And you, too, sir--" he added +turning to the vicar. But the old clergyman cut him short, being himself +rather uncertain about the throat. + +"Good-bye, my lad. God bless you. We shall hear of you soon--showing them +what you can do with your Alcaics--Good-bye." + +So John got into the dogcart and was driven off by the ancient +Reynolds--past the "Duke's Head," past the "Feathers," past the +churchyard and the croft--the "croat," they called it in +Billingsfield--and on by the windmill on the heath, a hideous bit of +grassless common euphemistically so named, and so out to the high-road +towards the railway station, feeling very miserable indeed. It is a +curious fact, too, in the history of his psychology that in proportion as +he got farther from the vicarage he thought more and more of his old +tutor and less and less of his unfinished dream, and he realised +painfully that the vicar was nearly the only friend he had in the world. +He would of course find Cornelius Angleside at Cambridge, but he +suspected that Cornelius, turned loose among a merry band of +undergraduates of his own position would be a very different person from +the idle youth he had known at Billingsfield, trembling in the intervals +of his idleness at the awful prospect of the entrance examination, and +frantically attempting to master some bit of stray knowledge which might +possibly be useful to him. Cornelius would hunt, would gamble, would go +to the races and would give wines at college; John was to be a reading +man who must avoid such things as he would avoid the devil himself, not +only because he was too wretchedly poor to have any share whatever in the +amusements of Cornelius and his set, but because every minute was +important, every hour meant not only learning but meant, most +emphatically, money. He thought of his poor father, grinding out the life +of a literary hack in a wretched London lodging, dining Heaven knew where +and generally supping not at all, saving every penny to help his son's +education, hard working, honest, lacking no virtue except the virtue of +all virtues--success. Then he thought how he himself had been favoured by +fortune during these last years, living under the vicar's roof, treated +with the same consideration as the high-born young gentlemen who had been +his companions, living well, sleeping well and getting the best education +in England for nothing or next to nothing, while that same father of his +had never ceased to slave day and night with his pen, honestly doing his +best and yet enjoying none of the good things of life. John thought of +all this and set his teeth boldly to face the world. A few months, he +thought, and he might have earned a scholarship--he might be independent. +Then a little longer--less than three years--and he might, nay, he would, +take high honours in the university and come back crowned with glory, +with the prospect of a fellowship, with every profession open to him, +with the world at his feet and with money in his hand to help his father +out of all his troubles. + +That was how John Short went to Trinity. It was a hard struggle at first, +for he found himself much poorer than he had imagined, and it seemed as +though the ends could not possibly meet. There was no question of denying +himself luxuries; that would have been easy enough. In those first months +it was the necessities that he lacked, the coals for his little grate, +the oil for his one small lamp. But he fought bravely through it, having, +like many another young fellow who has weathered the storms of poverty in +pursuit of learning, an iron constitution, and an even stronger will. He +used to say long afterwards that feeling cold was a mere habit and that +when one thoroughly understood the construction of Greek verses, some +stimulus of physical discomfort was necessary to make the imagination +work well; in support of which assertion he said that he had never done +such good things by the comfortable fire in the study at Billingsfield +vicarage as he did afterwards on winter nights by the light of a tallow +candle, high up in Neville's Court. Moreover, if any one argued that it +was better for an extremely poor man not to go to Trinity, but to some +much smaller college, he answered that as far as he himself was concerned +he could not have done better, which was quite true and therefore +perfectly unanswerable. Where the competition was less, he would have +been satisfied with less, he said; where it was greatest a man could only +be contented when he had reached the highest point possible. But before +he attained his end he suffered more than any one knew, especially during +those first months. For when he had got his first scholarship, he +insisted upon sending back the little sums of hard-earned money his +father sent him from time to time, and he consequently had nearly as hard +work as before to keep himself warm and to keep oil in his lamp during +the long winter's evenings. But he succeeded, nevertheless. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +In the month of October of that year, a short time after John had taken +up his abode in Trinity College, an event occurred which shook +Billingsfield to its foundations; no less an event than the occupation of +the dwelling known as the "cottage." What the cottage was will appear +hereafter. The arrival of the new tenants occurred in the following +manner. + +The Reverend Augustin Ambrose received a letter, which he immediately +showed to his wife, as he showed most of his correspondence; for he was +of the disposition which may be termed wife-consulting. Married men are +generally of two kinds; those who tell their wives everything and those +who tell them nothing. It is evident that the relative merits of the two +systems depend chiefly upon the relative merits of the wives in question. +Mr. Ambrose had no doubt of the advantages of his own method and he +carried it to its furthest expression, for he never did anything whatever +without consulting his better half. On the whole the plan worked well, +for the vicar had learning and his wife had common sense. He therefore +showed the letter to her and she read it, and read it again, and finally +put it away, writing across the envelope in her own large, clear hand the +words--Goddard, Cottage--indicative of the contents. + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR SIR--It is now nearly five months since I saw you last. Need I +tell you that the sense of your kindness is still fresh in my memory? You +do not know, indeed you cannot know, what an impression your goodness +made upon me. You showed me that I was acting rightly. It has been so +hard to act rightly. Of course you quite understand what I mean. I cannot +refer to the great sorrow which has overtaken me and my dear innocent +little Nellie. There is no use in referring to it, for I have told you +all. You allowed me to unburden my heart to you during my brief visit, +and ever since that day I have felt very much, I may say infinitely, +relieved. + +"I am again about to ask you a favour; I trust indeed that I am not +asking too much, but I know by experience how kind you are and so I am +not afraid to ask this too. Do you remember speaking to me of the little +cottage? The picture you drew of it quite charmed me, and I have +determined to take it, that is, if it is still to be let and if it is not +asking quite too much of you. I mean, if you will take it for me. You +cannot think how grateful I shall be and I enclose a cheque. I am almost +sure you said thirty-six pounds. It was thirty-six, was it not? The +reason I venture to enclose the money is because you are so very kind, +but of course you do not know anything certain about me. But I am sure +you will understand. You said you were sure I could live with my little +girl in Billingsfield for three hundred a year. I find I have a little +more, in fact nearly five hundred. If you tell me that I can have the +cottage, I will come down at once, for town is very dreary and we have +been here all summer except a week at Margate. Let me thank you again, +you have been so very kind, and believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely +yours, + +"MARY GODDARD." + + * * * * * + +"Augustin, my dear, this is very exciting," said Mrs. Ambrose, as she +handed the cheque to her husband for inspection and returned the +letter to its envelope, preparatory to marking it for future reference; +and when, as has been said, she had written upon the outside the +words--Goddard, Cottage, and had put it away she turned upon her husband +with an inquiring manner peculiar to her. Mr. Ambrose was standing before +the window, looking out at the rain and occasionally glancing at the +cheque he still held in his hand. + +"Just like a woman to send a cheque to 'bearer' through the post," he +remarked, severely. "However since I have got it, it is all right." + +"I don't think it is all right, Augustin," said his wife. "We are taking +a great responsibility in bringing her into the parish. I am quite sure +she is a dissenter or a Romanist or something dreadful, to begin with." + +"My dear," answered the vicar, mildly, "you make very uncharitable +suppositions. It seems to me that the most one can say of her is that she +is very unhappy and that she does not write very good English." + +"Oh, I have no doubt she is very unhappy. But as you say we must not be +uncharitable. I suppose you will have to write about the cottage." + +"I suppose so," said Mr. Ambrose doubtfully. "I cannot send her back the +money, and the cottage is certainly to let." + +He deposited the cheque in the drawer of his writing-table and began to +walk up and down the room, glancing up from time to time at his wife who +was lifting one after another the ornaments which stood upon the +chimney-piece, in order to ascertain whether Susan had dusted underneath +them. She had many ways of assuring herself that people did their work +properly. + +"No," said she, "you cannot send her back the money. But it is a very +solemn responsibility. I hope we are doing quite right." + +"I certainly would not hesitate to return the cheque, my dear, if I +thought any harm would come of Mrs. Goddard's living here. But I don't +think there is any reason to doubt her story." + +"Of course not. It was in the _Standard_, so there is no doubt about it. +I only hope no one else reads the papers here." + +"They read them in the kitchen," added Mrs. Ambrose presently, "and they +probably take a paper at the Duke's Head. Mr. Boosey is rather a literary +character." + +"Nobody will suppose it was that Goddard, my dear," said the vicar in a +reassuring tone of voice. + +"No--you had better write about the cottage." + +"I will," said the vicar; and he forthwith did. And moreover, with his +usual willingness to give himself trouble for other people, he took a +vast deal of pains to see that the cottage was really habitable. It +turned out to be in very good condition. It was a pretty place enough, +standing ten yards back from the road, beyond the village, just opposite +the gates of the park; a little square house of red brick with a high +pointed roof and a little garden. The walls were overgrown with creepers +which had once been trained with considerable care, but which during the +last two years had thriven in untrimmed luxuriance and now covered the +whole of the side of the house which faced the road. So thickly did they +grow that it was with difficulty that the windows could at first be +opened. The vicar sighed as he entered the darkened rooms. His daughter +had lived in the cottage when she first married the young doctor who had +now gone to London, and the vicar had been, and was, very fond of his +daughter. He had almost despaired of ever seeing her again in +Billingsfield; the only glimpses of her he could obtain were got by going +himself to town, for the doctor was so busy that he always put off the +projected visit to the country and his wife was so fond of him that she +refused to go alone. The vicar sighed as he forced open the windows upon +the lower floor and let the light into the bare and empty rooms which had +once been so bright and full of happiness. He wondered what sort of +person Mrs. Goddard would turn out to be upon nearer acquaintance, and +made vague, unconscious conjectures about her furniture as he stumbled +up the dark stairs to the upper story. + +He was not left long in doubt. The arrangements were easily concluded, +for the cottage belonged to the estate in Chancery and the lawyer in +charge was very busy with other matters. The guarantee afforded by the +vicar's personal application, together with the payment of a year's rent +in advance so far facilitated matters that four days after she had +written to Mr. Ambrose the latter informed Mrs. Goddard that she was at +liberty to take possession. The vicar suggested that the Billingsfield +carrier, who drove his cart to London once a week, could bring her +furniture down in two trips and save her a considerable expense; Mrs. +Goddard accepted this advice and in the course of a fortnight was +installed with all her goods in the cottage. Having completed her +arrangements at last, she came to call upon the vicar's wife. + +Mrs. Goddard had not changed since she had first visited Billingsfield, +five months earlier, though little Eleanor had grown taller and was if +possible prettier than ever. Something of the character of the lady in +black may have been gathered from the style of her letter to Mr. Ambrose; +that communication had impressed the vicar's wife unfavourably and had +drawn from her husband a somewhat compassionate remark about the bad +English it contained. Nevertheless when Mrs. Goddard came to live in +Billingsfield the Ambroses soon discovered that she was a very +well-educated woman, that she appeared to have read much and to have read +intelligently, and that she was on the whole decidedly interesting. It +was long, however, before Mrs. Ambrose entirely conquered a certain +antipathy she felt for her, and which she explained after her own +fashion. Mrs. Goddard was not a dissenter and she was not a Romanist; on +the contrary she appeared to be a very good churchwoman. She paid her +bills regularly and never gave anybody any trouble. She visited the +vicarage at stated intervals, and the vicarage graciously returned her +visits. The vicar himself even went to the cottage more often than Mrs. +Ambrose thought strictly necessary, for the vicar was strongly prejudiced +in her favour. But Mrs. Ambrose did not share that prejudice. Mrs. +Goddard, she said, was too effusive, talked too much about herself and +her troubles, did not look thoroughly straightforward, probably had +foreign blood. Ay, there was the rub--Mrs. Ambrose suspected that Mrs. +Goddard was not quite English. If she was not, why did she not say so, +and be done with it? + +Mrs. Goddard was English, nevertheless, and would have been very much +surprised could she have guessed the secret cause of the slight coldness +she sometimes observed in the manner of the clergyman's wife towards her. +She herself, poor thing, believed it was because she was in trouble, and +considering the nature of the disaster which had befallen her, she was +not surprised. She was rather a weak woman, rather timid, and if she +talked a little too much sometimes it was because she felt embarrassed; +there were times, too, when she was very silent and sad. She had been +very happy and the great catastrophe had overtaken her suddenly, leaving +her absolutely without friends. She wanted to be hidden from the world, +and by one of those strange contrasts often found in weak people she had +suddenly made a very bold resolution and had successfully carried it out. +She had come straight to a man she had never seen, but whom she knew very +well by reputation, and had told him her story and asked him to help her; +and she had not come in vain. The person who advised her to go to the +Reverend Augustin Ambrose knew that there was not a better man to whom +she could apply. She had found what she wanted, a sort of deserted +village where she would never be obliged to meet any one, since there was +absolutely no society; she had found a good man upon whom she felt she +could rely in case of further difficulty; and she had not come upon false +pretences, for she had told her whole story quite frankly. For a woman +who was naturally timid she had done a thing requiring considerable +courage, and she was astonished at her own boldness after she had done +it. But in her peaceful retreat, she reflected that she could not +possibly have left England, as many women in her position would have +done, simply because the idea of exile was intolerable to her; she +reflected also that if she had settled in any place where there was any +sort of society her story would one day have become known, and that if +she had spent years in studying her situation she could not have done +better than in going boldly to the vicar of Billingsfield and explaining +her sad position to him. She had found a haven of rest after many months +of terrible anxiety and she hoped that she might end her days in peace +and in the spot she had chosen. But she was very young--not thirty years +of age yet--and her little girl would soon grow up--and then? Evidently +her dream of peace was likely to be of limited duration; but she resigned +herself to the unpleasant possibilities of the future with a good grace, +in consideration of the advantages she enjoyed in the present. + +Mrs. Ambrose was at home when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor came to the +vicarage. Indeed Mrs. Ambrose was rarely out in the afternoon, unless +something very unusual called her away. She received her visitor with the +stern hospitality she exercised towards strangers. The strangers she saw +were generally the near relations of the young gentlemen whom her husband +received for educational purposes. She stood in the front drawing-room, +that is to say, in the most impressive chamber of that fortress which is +an Englishman's house. It was a formal room, arranged by a fixed rule and +the order of it was maintained inflexibly; no event could be imagined of +such terrible power as to have caused the displacement of one of those +chairs, of one of those ornaments upon the chimney-piece, of one of those +engravings upon the walls. The walls were papered with one shade of +green, the furniture was covered with material of another shade of green +and the well-spared carpet exhibited still a third variety of the same +colour. Mrs. Ambrose's sense of order did not extend to the simplest +forms of artistic harmony, but when it had an opportunity of impressing +itself upon inanimate objects which were liable to be moved, washed or +dusted, its effects were formidable indeed. She worshipped neatness and +cleanliness; she left the question of taste to others. And now she stood +in the keep of her stronghold, the impersonation of moral rectitude and +of practical housekeeping. + +Mrs. Goddard entered rather timidly, followed by little Eleanor whose +ideas had been so much disturbed by the recent change in her existence, +that she had grown unusually silent and her great violet eyes were +unceasingly opened wide to take in the growing wonders of her situation. +Mrs. Goddard was still dressed in black, as when John Short had seen her +five months earlier. There was something a little peculiar in her +mourning, though Mrs. Ambrose would have found it hard to define the +peculiarity. Some people would have said that if she was really a widow +her gown fitted a little too well, her bonnet was a little too small, her +veil a little too short. Mrs. Ambrose supposed that those points were +suggested by the latest fashions in London and summed up the difficulty +by surmising that Mrs. Goddard had foreign blood. + +"I should have called before," said the latter, deeply impressed by the +severe appearance of the vicar's wife, "but I have been so busy putting +my things into the cottage--" + +"Pray don't think of it," answered Mrs. Ambrose. Then she added after a +pause, "I am very glad to see you." She appeared to have been weighing in +her conscience the question whether she could truthfully say so or not. +But Mrs. Goddard was grateful for the smallest advances. + +"Thank you," she said, "you are so very kind. Will you tell Mr. Ambrose +how thankful I am for his kind assistance? Yes, Nellie and I have had +hard work in moving, have not we, dear?" She drew the beautiful child +close to her and gazed lovingly into her eyes. But Nellie was shy; she +hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and then looked doubtfully at Mrs. +Ambrose, and then hid herself again. + +"How old is your little girl?" asked Mrs. Ambrose more kindly. She was +fond of children, and actually pitied any child whose mother perhaps had +foreign blood. + +"Eleanor--I call her Nellie--is eight years old. She will be nine in +January. She is tall for her age," added Mrs. Goddard with affectionate +pride. As a matter of fact Nellie was small for her years, and Mrs. +Ambrose, who was the most truthful of women, felt that she could not +conscientiously agree in calling hex tall. She changed the subject. + +"I am afraid you will find it very quiet in Billingsfield," she said +presently. + +"Oh, I am used--that is, I prefer a very quiet place. I want to live very +quietly for some years, indeed I hope for the rest of my life. Besides it +will be so good for Nellie to live in the country--she will grow so +strong." + +"She looks very well, I am sure," answered Mrs. Ambrose rather bluntly, +looking at the child's clear complexion and bright eyes. "And have you +always lived in town until now, Mrs. Goddard?" she asked. + +"Oh no, not always, but most of the year, perhaps. Indeed I think so." +Mrs. Goddard felt nervous before the searching glance of the elder woman. +Mrs. Ambrose concluded that she was not absolutely straightforward. + +"Do you think you can make the cottage comfortable?" asked the vicar's +wife, seeing that the conversation languished. + +"Oh, I think so," answered her visitor, glad to change the subject, and +suddenly becoming very voluble as she had previously been very shy. "It +is really a charming little place. Of course it is not very large, but as +we have not got very many belongings that is all the better; and the +garden is small but extremely pretty and wild, and the kitchen is very +convenient; really I quite wonder how the people who built it could have +made it all so comfortable. You see there are one--two--the pantry, the +kitchen and two rooms on the ground floor and plenty of room upstairs for +everybody, and as for the sun! it streams into all the windows at once +from morning till night. And such a pretty view, too, of that old gate +opposite--where does it lead to, Mrs. Ambrose? It is so very pretty." + +"It leads to the park and the Hall," answered Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Oh--" Mrs. Goddard's tone changed. "But nobody lives there?" she asked +suddenly. + +"Oh no--it is in Chancery, you know." + +"What--what is that, exactly?" asked Mrs. Goddard, timidly. "Is there a +young heir waiting to grow up--I mean waiting to take possession?" + +"No. There is a suit about it. It has been going on for forty years my +husband says, and they cannot decide to whom it belongs." + +"I see," answered Mrs. Goddard. "I suppose they will never decide now." + +"Probably not for some time." + +"It must be a very pretty place. Can one go in, do you think? I am so +fond of trees--what a beautiful garden you have yourself, Mrs. Ambrose." + +"Would you like to see it?" asked the vicar's wife, anxious to bring the +visit to a conclusion. + +"Oh, thank you--of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "Would not you +like to run about the garden, Nellie?" + +The little girl nodded slowly and stared at Mrs. Ambrose. + +"My husband is a very good gardener," said the latter, leading the way +out to the hall. "And so was John Short, but he has left us, you know." + +"Who was John Short?" asked Mrs. Goddard rather absently, as she watched +Mrs. Ambrose who was wrapping herself in a huge blue waterproof cloak and +tying a sort of worsted hood over her head. + +"He was one of the boys Mr. Ambrose prepared for college--such a good +fellow. You may have seen him when you came last June, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"Had he very bright blue eyes--a nice face?" + +"Yes--that is, it might have been Mr. Angleside--Lord Scatterbeigh's +son--he was here, too." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Goddard, "perhaps it was." + +"Mamma," asked little Nellie, "what is Laws Catterbay?" + +"A peer, darling." + +"Like the one at Brighton, mamma, with a band?" + +"No, child," answered the mother laughing. "P, double E, R, peer--a rich +gentleman." + +"Like poor papa then?" inquired the irrepressible Eleanor. + +Mrs. Goddard turned pale and pressed the little girl close to her side, +leaning down to whisper in her ear. + +"You must not ask foolish questions, darling--I will tell you by and by." + +"Papa was a rich gentleman," objected the child. + +Mrs. Goddard looked at Mrs. Ambrose, and the ready tears came into her +eyes. The vicar's wife smiled kindly and took little Nellie by the hand. + +"Come, dear," she said in the motherly tone that was natural to her when +she was not receiving visitors. "Come and see the garden and you can play +with Carlo." + +"Can't I see Laws Catterbay, too?" asked the little girl rather +wistfully. + +"Carlo is a great, big, brown dog," said Mrs. Ambrose, leading the child +out into the garden, while Mrs. Goddard followed close behind. Before +they had gone far they came upon the vicar, arrayed in an old coat, his +hands thrust into a pair of gigantic gardening gloves and a battered old +felt hat upon his head. Mrs. Goddard had felt rather uncomfortable in the +impressive society of Mrs. Ambrose and the sight of the vicar's genial +face was reassuring in the extreme. She was not disappointed, for he +immediately relieved the situation by asking all manner of kindly +questions, interspersed with remarks upon his garden, while Mrs. Ambrose +introduced little Nellie to the acquaintance of Carlo who had not seen so +pretty a little girl for many a day, and capered and wagged his feathery +tail in a manner most unseemly for so clerical a dog. + +So it came about that Mrs. Goddard established herself at Billingsfield +and made her first visit to the vicarage. After that the ice was broken +and things went on smoothly enough. Mrs. Ambrose's hints concerning +foreign blood, and her husband's invariable remonstrance to the effect +that she ought to be more charitable, grew more and more rare as time +went on, and finally ceased altogether. Mrs. Goddard became a regular +institution, and ceased to astonish the inhabitants. Mr. Thomas Reid, the +sexton, was heard to remark from time to time that he "didn't hold with +th'm newfangle fashins in dress;" but he was a regular old conservative, +and most people agreed with Mr. Abraham Boosey of the Duke's Head, who +had often been to London, and who said she did "look just A one, slap up, +she did!" + +Mrs. Goddard became an institution, and in the course of the first year +of her residence in the cottage it came to be expected that she should +dine at the vicarage at least once a week; and once a week, also, Mr. and +Mrs. Ambrose went up and had tea with her and little Eleanor at the +cottage. It came to pass also that Mrs. Goddard heard a vast deal of talk +about John Short and his successes at Trinity, and she actually developed +a lively interest in his career, and asked for news of him almost as +eagerly as though he had been already a friend of her own. In very quiet +places people easily get into the sympathetic habit of regarding their +neighbours' interests as very closely allied to their own. The constant +talk about John Short, the vicar's sanguine hopes for his brilliant +future, and Mrs. Ambrose's unlimited praise of his moral qualities, +repeated day by day and week by week produced a vivid impression on Mrs. +Goddard's mind. It would have surprised her and even amused her beyond +measure had she had any idea that she herself had for a long time +absorbed the interest of this same John Short, that he had written +hundreds of Greek and Latin verses in her praise, while wholly ignorant +of her name, and that at the very time when without knowing him, she was +constantly mentioning him as though she knew him intimately well, he +himself was looking back to the one glimpse he had had of her, as to a +dream of unspeakable bliss. + +It never occurred to Mr. Ambrose's mind to tell John in the occasional +letters he wrote that Mrs. Goddard had settled in Billingsfield. John, he +thought, could take no possible interest in knowing about her, and +moreover, Mrs. Goddard herself was most anxious never to be mentioned +abroad. She had come to Billingsfield to live in complete obscurity, and +the good vicar had promised that as far as he and his wife were concerned +she should have her wish. To tell even John Short, his own beloved pupil, +would be to some extent a breach of faith, and there was assuredly no +earthly reason why John should be told. It might do harm, for of course +the young fellow had made acquaintances at Cambridge; he had probably +read about the Goddard case in the papers, and might talk about it. If he +should happen to come down for a day or two he would probably meet her; +but that could not be avoided. It was not likely that he would come for +some time. The vicar himself intended to go up to Cambridge for a day or +two after Christmas to see him; but the winter flew by and Mr. Ambrose +did not go. Then came Easter, then the summer and the Long vacation. John +wrote that he could not leave his books for a day, but that he hoped to +run down next Christmas. Again he did not come, but there came the news +of his having won another and a more important scholarship; the news also +that he was already regarded as the most promising man in the university, +all of which exceedingly delighted the heart of the Reverend Augustin +Ambrose, and being told with eulogistic comments to Mrs. Goddard, tended +to increase the interest she felt in the existence of John Short, so that +she began to long for a sight of him, without exactly knowing why. + +Gradually, too, as she and her little girl passed many peaceful days in +the quiet cottage, the sad woman's face grew less sorrowful. She spoke of +herself more cheerfully and dwelt less upon the subject of her grief. She +had at first been so miserable that she could hardly talk at all without +referring to her unhappy situation though, after her first interview with +Mrs. Ambrose, no one had ever heard her mention any details connected +with her trouble. But now she never approached the subject at all. Her +face lost none of its pathetic beauty, it is true, but it seemed to +express sorrow past rather than present. Meanwhile little Nellie grew +daily more lovely, and absorbed more and more of her mother's attention. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Events of such stirring interest as the establishment of Mrs. Goddard in +Billingsfield rarely come alone; for it seems to be in the nature of +great changes to bring other changes with them, even when there is no +apparent connection whatever between them. It took nearly two years for +Billingsfield to recover from its astonishment at Mrs. Goddard's arrival, +and before the excitement had completely worn off the village was again +taken off its feet by unexpected news of stupendous import, even as of +old Pompeii was overthrown by a second earthquake before it had wholly +recovered from the devastation caused by the first. The shock was indeed +a severe one. The Juxon estate was reported to be out of Chancery, and a +new squire was coming to take up his residence at the Hall. + +It is not known exactly how the thing first became known, but there was +soon no doubt whatever that it was true. Thomas Reid, the sexton, who +remembered that the old squire died forty years ago come Michaelmas, and +had been buried in a "wonderful heavy" coffin, Thomas Reid the stern +censor of the vicar's sermons, a melancholic and sober man, so far lost +his head over the news as to ask Mr. Ambrose's leave to ring the bells, +Mr. Abraham Boosey having promised beer for the ringers. Even to the +vicar's enlightened mind it seemed fitting that there should be some +festivity over so great an event and the bells were accordingly rung +during one whole afternoon. Thomas Reid's ringers never got beyond the +first "bob" of a peal, for with the exception of the sexton himself and +old William Speller the wheelwright, who pulled the treble bell, they +were chiefly dull youths who with infinite difficulty had been taught +what changes they knew by rote and had very little idea of ringing by +scientific rule. Moreover Mr. Boosey was liberal in the matter of beer +that day and the effect of each successive can that was taken up the +stairs of the old tower was immediately apparent to every one within +hearing, that is to say as far as five miles around. + +The estate was out of Chancery at last. For forty years, ever since the +death of the old squire, no one had rightfully called the Hall his own. +The heir had lived abroad, and had lived in such an exceedingly eccentric +manner as to give ground for a suit _de lunatico inquirendo_, brought by +another heir. With the consistency of judicial purpose which +characterises such proceedings the courts appeared to have decided that +though the natural possessor, the eccentric individual who lived abroad, +was too mad to be left in actual possession, he was not mad enough to +justify actual possession in the person of the next of kin. Proceedings +continued, fees were paid, a certain legal personage already mentioned +came down from time to time and looked over the estate, but the matter +was not finally settled until the eccentric individual died, after forty +years of eccentricity, to the infinite relief and satisfaction of all +parties and especially of his lawful successor Charles James Juxon now, +at last, "of Billingsfield Hall, in the county of Essex, Esquire." + +In due time also Mr. Juxon appeared. It was natural that he should come +to see the vicar, and as it happened that he called late in the afternoon +upon the day when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor were accustomed to dine +at the vicarage, he at once had an opportunity of making the acquaintance +of his tenant; thus, if we except the free-thinking doctor, it will be +seen that Mr. Juxon was in the course of five minutes introduced to the +whole of the Billingsfield society. + +He was a man inclining towards middle age, of an active and vigorous +body, of a moderate intelligence and of decidedly prepossessing +appearance. His features were of the strong, square type, common to men +whose fathers for many generations have lived in the country. His eyes +were small, blue and very bright, and to judge from the lines in his +sunburned face he was a man who laughed often and heartily. He had an +abundance of short brown hair, parted very far upon one side and brushed +to a phenomenal smoothness, and he wore a full brown beard, cut rather +short and carefully trimmed. He immediately won the heart of Mrs. Ambrose +on account of his extremely neat appearance. There was no foreign blood +in him, she was sure. He had large clean hands with large and polished +nails. He wore very well made clothes, and he spoke like a gentleman. +The vicar, too, was at once prepossessed in his favour, and even little +Eleanor, who was generally very shy before strangers, looked at him +admiringly and showed little of her usual bashfulness. But Mrs. Goddard +seemed ill at ease and tried to keep out of the conversation as much as +possible. + +"There have been great rejoicings at the prospect of your arrival," said +the vicar when the new-comer had been introduced to both the ladies. "I +fancy that if you had let it be known that you were coming down to-day +the people would have turned out to meet you at the station." + +"The truth is, I rather avoid that sort of thing," said the squire, +smiling. "I would rather enter upon my dominions as quietly as possible." + +"It is much better for the people, too," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. "Their +idea of a holiday is to do no work and have too much beer." + +"I daresay that would not hurt them much," answered Mr. Juxon cheerfully. +"By the bye, I know nothing about them. I have never been here before. +My man of business wanted to come down and show me over the estate, and +introduce me to the farmers and all that, but I thought it would be such +a bore that I would not have him." + +"There is not much to tell, really," said Mr. Ambrose. "The society of +Billingsfield is all here," he added with a smile, "including one of your +tenants." + +"Are you my tenant?" asked Mr. Juxon pleasantly, and he looked at Mrs. +Goddard. + +"Yes," said she, "I have taken the cottage." + +"The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the +cottage?" + +"Such a pretty place," answered Mrs. Ambrose, "just opposite the park +gate. You must have seen it as you came down." + +"Oh, is that it?" said the squire. "Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived +there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall +is a perfect wilderness." + +Mrs. Goddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into +his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and +her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession +at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The +idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance, +and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he +would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and +the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors +at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was +at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her +embarrassment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the +cottage himself. + +"Do not be afraid, Mrs. Goddard," he said quickly, "I am not going to do +anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it +would be too small, you know." + +"Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity +which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs. +Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should +have said that he was married as soon as he entered the room. + +"I have a very large family," answered the squire, and after enjoying for +a moment the surprise he saw in Mrs. Ambrose's face, he added with a +laugh, "I have a library of ten thousand volumes--a very large family +indeed. Otherwise I have no encumbrances, thank heaven." + +"You are a scholar?" asked Mr. Ambrose eagerly. + +"A book fancier, only a book fancier," returned the squire modestly. "But +I am very fond of the fancy." + +"What is a book fancier, mamma?" asked little Eleanor in a whisper. But +Mr. Juxon heard the child's question. + +"If your mamma will bring you up to the Hall one of these days, Miss +Goddard, I will show you. A book fancier is a terrible fellow who has +lots of books, and is pursued by a large evil genius telling him he must +buy every book he sees, and that he will never by any possibility read +half of them before he dies." + +Little Eleanor stared for a moment with her great violet eyes, and then +turning again to her mother, whispered in her ear. + +"Mamma, he called me Miss Goddard!" + +"Run out and play in the garden, darling," said her mother with a smile. +But the child would not go and sat down on a stool and stared at the +squire, who was immensely delighted. + +"So you are going to bring all your library, Mr. Juxon?" asked the vicar +returning to the charge. + +"Yes--and I beg you will make any use of it you please," answered the +visitor. "I have a great fondness for books and I think I have some +valuable volumes. But I am no great scholar, as you are, though I read a +great deal. I have always noticed that the men who accumulate great +libraries do not know much, and the men who know a great deal have very +few books. Now I will wager that you have not a thousand volumes in your +house, Mr. Ambrose." + +"Five hundred would be nearer the mark," said the vicar. + +"The fewer one has the nearer one approaches to Aquinas's _homo unius +libri_," returned the squire. "You are nine thousand five hundred degrees +nearer to ideal wisdom than I am." + +Mr. Ambrose laughed. + +"Nevertheless," he said, "you may be sure that if you give me leave to +use your books, I will take advantage of the permission. It is in writing +sermons that one feels the want of a good library." + +"I should think it would be an awful bore to write sermons," remarked the +squire with such perfect innocence that both the vicar and Mrs. Goddard +laughed loudly. But Mrs. Ambrose eyed Mr. Juxon with renewed severity. + +"I should fancy it would be a much greater bore, as you call it, to the +congregation if my husband never wrote any new ones," she said stiffly. +Whereat the squire looked rather puzzled, and coloured a little. But Mr. +Ambrose came to the rescue. + +"Yes, indeed, my wife is quite right. There are no people with such +terrible memories as churchwardens. They remember a sermon twenty years +old. But as you say, the writing of sermons is not an easy task when a +man has been at it for thirty years and more. A man begins by being +enthusiastic, then his mind gets into a groove and for some time, if he +happens to like the groove, he writes very well. But by and by he has +written all there is to be said in the particular line he has chosen and +he does not know how to choose another. That is the time when a man needs +a library to help him." + +"I really don't think you have reached that point, Mr. Ambrose," remarked +Mrs. Goddard. She admired the vicar and liked his sermons. + +"You are fortunately not in the position of my churchwardens," answered +Mr. Ambrose. "You have not been listening to me for thirty years." + +"How long have you been my tenant, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire. + +"Nearly two years," she answered thoughtfully, and her sad eyes rested a +moment upon Mr. Juxon's face with an expression he remembered. Indeed he +looked at her very often and as he looked his admiration increased, so +that when he rose to take his leave the predominant impression of the +vicarage which remained in his mind was that of her face. Something of +the same fascination took hold of him which had seized upon John Short +when he caught sight of Mrs. Goddard through the open door of the study, +something of that unexpected interest which in Mrs. Ambrose had at first +aroused a half suspicious dislike, now long forgotten. + +Before the squire left he invited the whole party to come and dine with +him at the Hall on the following Saturday. He must have some kind of a +house warming, he said, for he was altogether too lonely up there. Mrs. +Goddard would bring Eleanor, of course; they would dine early--it would +not be late for the little girl. If they all liked they could call it tea +instead of dinner. Of course everything was topsy-turvy in the Hall, but +they would excuse that. He hoped to establish friendly relations with his +vicar and with his tenant--his fair tenant. Might he call soon and see +whether there was anything that could be done to improve the cottage? +Before the day when they were all coming to dine? He would call +to-morrow, then. Anything that needed doing should be done, Mrs. Goddard +might be sure. When the books arrived he would let Mr. Ambrose know, of +course, and they would have a day together. + +So he went away, leaving the impression that he was a very good-natured +and agreeable man. Even Mrs. Ambrose was mollified. He had shocked her by +his remark about sermon writing, but he had of course not meant it, and +he appeared to mean to be very civil. It was curious to see how all +severity vanished from Mrs. Ambrose's manner so soon as the stranger who +aroused it was out of sight and hearing. She appeared as a formidably +stern type of the British matron to the chance visitors who came to the +vicarage; but they were no sooner gone than her natural temper was +restored and she was kindness and geniality itself. + +But Mrs. Goddard was very thoughtful. She was not pleased at the fact of +an addition to the Billingsfield community, and yet she liked the +appearance of the squire. He had declared his intention of calling upon +her on the following day, and she would be bound to receive him. She was +young, she had been shut off from the world for two years, and the +prospect of Mr. Juxon's acquaintance was in itself not unpleasant; but +the idea that he was to be permanently established in the Hall frightened +her. She had felt since she came to Billingsfield that from the very +first she had put herself upon a footing of safety by telling her story +to the vicar. But the vicar would, not without her permission repeat that +story to Mr. Juxon. Was she herself called upon to do so? She was a very +sensitive woman, and her impressionable nature had been strongly affected +by what she had suffered. An almost morbid fear of seeming to make false +pretences possessed her. She was more than thirty years of age, it is +true, but she saw plainly enough in her glass that she was more than +passably good-looking still. There were one or two grey threads in her +brown waving hair and she took no trouble to remove them; no one ever +noticed them. There were one or two lines, very faint lines, in her +forehead; no one ever saw them. She could hardly see them herself. +Supposing--why should she not suppose it?--supposing Mr. Juxon were to +take a fancy to her, as a lone bachelor of forty and odd might easily +take a fancy to a pretty woman who was his tenant and lived at his gate, +what should she do? He was an honest man, and she was a conscientious +woman; she could not deceive him, if it came to that. She would have to +tell him the whole truth. As she thought of it, she turned pale and +trembled. And yet she had liked his face, she had told him he might call +at the cottage, and her woman's instinct foresaw that she was to see him +often. It was not vanity which made her think that the squire might grow +to like her too much. She had had experiences in her life and she knew +that she was attractive; the very fear she had felt for the last two +years lest she should be thrown into the society of men who might be +attracted by her, increased her apprehension tenfold. She could not look +forward with indifference to the expected visit, for the novelty of +seeing any one besides the vicar and his wife was too great; she could +not refuse to see the squire, for he would come again and again until she +received him; and yet, she could not get rid of the idea that there was +danger in seeing him. Call it as one may, that woman's instinct of peril +is rarely at fault. + +In the late twilight of the June evening Mrs. Goddard and Eleanor waited +home together by the broad road which led towards the park gate. + +"Don't you think Mr. Juxon is very kind, mamma?" asked the child. + +"Yes, darling, I have no doubt he is. It was very good of him to ask you +to go to the Hall." + +"And he called me Miss Goddard," said Eleanor. "I wonder whether he will +always call me Miss Goddard." + +"He did not know your name was Nellie," explained her mother. + +"Oh, I wish nobody knew, mamma. It was so nice. When shall I be grown up, +mamma?" + +"Soon, my child--too soon," said Mrs. Goddard with a sigh. Nellie looked +at her mother and was silent for a minute. + +"Mamma, do you like Mr. Juxon?" she asked presently. + +"No, dear--how can one like anybody one has only seen once?" + +"Oh--but I thought you might," said Nellie. "Don't you think you will, +mamma? Say you will--do!" + +"Why?" asked her mother in some surprise. "I cannot say anything about +it. I daresay he is very nice." + +"It will be so delightful to go to the Hall to dinner and be waited +on by big real servants--not like Susan at the vicarage, or Martha. Won't +you like it, mamma? Of course Mr. Juxon will have real servants, just +like--like poor papa." Nellie finished her speech rather doubtfully as +though not sure how her mother would take it. Mrs. Goddard sighed again, +but said nothing. She could not stop the child's talking--why should +Nellie not speak of her father? Nellie did not know. + +"I think it will be perfectly delightful," said Nellie, seeing she got no +answer from her mother, and as though putting the final seal of +affirmation to her remarks about the Hall. But she appeared to be +satisfied at not having been contradicted and did not return to the +subject that evening. + +Mr. Juxon lost no time in keeping his word and on the following morning +at about eleven o'clock, when Mrs. Goddard was just hearing the last of +Nellie's lesson in geography and little Nellie herself was beginning to +be terribly tired of acquiring knowledge in such very warm weather, the +squire's square figure was seen to emerge from the park gate opposite, +clad in grey knickerbockers and dark green stockings, a rose in his +buttonhole and a thick stick in his hand, presenting all the traditional +appearance of a thriving country gentleman of the period. He crossed the +road, stopped a moment and whistled his dog to heel and then opened the +wicket gate that led to the cottage. Nellie sprang to the window in wild +excitement. + +"Oh what a dog!" she cried. "Mamma, _do_ come and see! And Mr. Juxon is +coming, too--he has green stockings!" + +But Mrs. Goddard, who was not prepared for so early a visit, hastily put +away what might be described as the debris of Nellie's lessons, to wit, a +much thumbed book of geography, a well worn spelling book, a very +particularly inky piece of blotting paper, a pen of which most of the +stock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for +several months, and an ancient doll, without the assistance of which, as +a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could +not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them, +Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the +time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was +beginning to echo in the small passage, Mrs. Goddard had passed to the +consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but +in other respects she was presentable. + +"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her +mother. + +"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing +look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one +moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky +fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his +coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of +some gigantic beast plunging into the passage as the front door was +opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured +laugh from the squire. + +"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a +dog he is, sir--" + +"Is Mrs. Goddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the +collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire +looked in. Martha fled down the passage. + +"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to +exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage. + +"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression +of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!" + +"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr. +Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed +and was glad of the diversion. + +"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a +little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs. +Goddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder, +he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was +given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a +big dog is not it?" + +"Very," said Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an +exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he +combined with his gigantic strength and size a grace and swiftness of +motion which no mastiff can possess. His smooth clean coat, of a +perfectly even slate colour throughout, was without folds, close as a +greyhound's, showing every articulation and every swelling muscle of his +body. His broad square head and monstrous jaw betrayed more of the +quickness and sudden ferocity of the tiger than those suggested by the +heavy, lion-like jowl of the English mastiff. His ears, too, were close +cropped, in accordance with the Russian fashion, and somehow the +compactness this gave to his head seemed to throw forward and bring into +prominence his great fiery eyes, that reflected red lights as he moved, +and did not tend to inspire confidence in the timid stranger. + +"Do sit down," said Mrs. Goddard, and when the squire was seated Stamboul +sat himself down upon his haunches beside him, and looked slowly from his +master to the lady and back again, his tongue hanging out as though +anxious to hear what they might have to say to each other. + +"I thought I should be sure to find you in the morning," began Mr. Juxon, +after a pause. "I hope I have not disturbed you?" + +"Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished her lessons." + +"The fact is," continued the squire, "that I was going to survey the +nakedness of the land which has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of +the park I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist the +temptation of calling. I had no idea we were such near neighbours." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "it is very near." + +Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not exactly at a loss for words, +but Mrs. Goddard did not seem inclined to encourage the conversation. He +saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable but that its +arrangement betrayed a considerable taste for luxury. The furniture was +of a kind not generally seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed +part of some great establishment. The carpet itself was of a finer and +softer kind than any at the Hall. The writing-table was a piece of richly +inlaid work, and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe and +valuable kind that are seen in rich men's houses. A clock which was +undoubtedly of the Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece. On +the walls were hung three or four pictures which, Mr. Juxon thought, must +be both old and of great value. Upon a little table by the fireplace lay +four or five objects of Chinese jade and Japanese ivory and a silver +chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw, and wondered why such a +very pretty woman, who possessed such very pretty things, should choose +to come and live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield. And +having seen and wondered he became interested in his charming tenant and +endeavoured to carry on the conversation in a more confidential strain. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"You have done more towards beautifying the cottage than I could have +hoped to do," said Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one +hand on Stamboul's great head. + +"It was very pretty of itself," answered Mrs. Goddard, "and fortunately +it is not very big, or my things would look lost in it." + +"I should not say that--you have so many beautiful things. They seem to +suit the place so well. I am sure you will never think of taking them +away." + +"Not if I can help it--I am too glad to be quiet." + +"You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire. + +"No--not exactly that--only a little, after all. I have not been to +Constantinople for instance," she added looking at the hound Mr. Juxon +had brought from the East. "You are indeed a traveller." + +"I have travelled all my life," said the squire, indifferently, as though +the subject of his wanderings did not interest him. "From what little I +have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will find all the quiet you could +wish, here. Really, I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for +information. What sort of man is that excellent rector down there, whom I +met last night?" + +The squire's tone became more confidential as he put the question. + +"Well--he is not a rector, to begin with," answered Mrs. Goddard with a +smile, "he is the vicar, and he is a most good man, whom I have always +found most kind." + +"I can readily fancy that," said Mr. Juxon. "But his wife seems to be of +the severe type." + +"No--she struck me so at first, too. I think it is only with strangers. +She is such a motherly sort of woman, you do not know! She only has that +little manner when you first meet her." + +"What a strange thing that is!" remarked the squire, looking at Mrs. +Goddard. "The natural belief of English people in each other's depravity +until they have had time to make acquaintance! And is there no one else +here--no doctor--no doctor's wife?" + +"Not a soul," answered Mrs. Goddard. "There is a doctor, but the vicarage +suspects him of free thought. He certainly never goes to church. He has +no wife." + +"This is the most Arcadian retreat I ever was in. Upon my word, I am a +very lucky man." + +"I suppose that it must be a relief when one has travelled so much," +replied Mrs. Goddard. + +"Or suffered very much," added the squire, half unconsciously, looking at +her sad face. + +"Yes," she answered. At that moment the door opened and Nellie entered +the room, having successfully grappled with the inkstains. She went +straight to the squire, and held out her hand, blushing a little, but +looking very pretty. Then she saw the huge head of Stamboul who looked up +at her with a ferociously agreeable canine smile, and thwacked the carpet +with his tail as he sat; Nellie started back. + +"Oh, what a dog!" she exclaimed. But very soon she was on excellent +terms with him; little Nellie was not timid, and Stamboul, who liked +people who were not afraid of him and was especially fond of children, +did his best to be amusing. + +"He is a very good dog," remarked Mr. Juxon. "He once did me a very good +service." + +"How was that?" + +"I was riding in the Belgrade forest one summer. I was alone with +Stamboul following. A couple of ruffians tried to rob me. Stamboul caught +one of them." + +"Did he hurt him very much?" + +"I don't know--he killed him before the fellow could scream, and I shot +the other," replied the squire calmly. + +"What a horrible story!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, turning pale. "Come +here, Nellie--don't touch that dreadful dog!" + +"Do not be afraid--he is perfectly harmless. Come here Stamboul!" The +huge beast obeyed, wagging his tail, and sat down at his master's feet, +still looking rather wistfully at Nellie who had been playing with him. +"You see," continued Mr. Juxon, "he is as quiet as a lamb--would not hurt +a fly!" + +"I think it is dreadful to have such animals about," said Mrs. Goddard in +a low voice, still looking at the dog with horror. + +"I am sorry I told you. It may prejudice you against him. I only meant to +explain how faithful he is, that is all. You see a man grows fond of a +creature that has saved his life." + +"I suppose so, but it is rather startling to see such an animal so near +to one. I fear I am very nervous." + +"By the bye." said the squire with the bold irrelevancy of a man who +wants to turn the subject, "are you fond of flowers?" + +"I?" said Mrs. Goddard in surprise. "Yes--very. Why?" + +"I thought you would not mind if I had the garden here improved a little. +One might put in a couple of frames. I did not see any flowers about. I +am so fond of them myself, you see, that I always look for them." + +"You are very kind," answered Mrs. Goddard. "But I would not have you +take any trouble on my account. We are so comfortable and so fond of the +cottage already--" + +"Well, I hope you will grow to like it even better," returned the squire +with a genial smile. "Anything I can do, you know--" he rose as though to +take his leave. "Excuse me, but may I look at that picture? Andrea del +Sarto? Yes, I thought so--wonderful--upon my word, in a cottage in +Billingsfield. Where did you find it?" + +"It was my husband's," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"Ah--ah, yes," said the squire in a subdued tone. "I beg your pardon," he +added, as people often do, unconsciously, when they fancy they have +accidentally roused in another a painful train of thought. Then he turned +to go. "We dine at half-past seven, you know, so as to be early for Miss +Nellie," he said, as he went out. + +Mrs. Goddard was glad he was gone, though she felt that he was not +unsympathetic. The story of the dog had frightened her, and her own +mention of her husband had made her nervous and sad. More than ever she +felt that fear of being in a false position, which had assailed her when +she had first met the squire on the previous evening. He had at once +opened relations with her in a way which showed that he intended to be +intimate; he had offered to improve her cottage, had insisted upon making +frames in her garden, had asked her to dinner with the Ambroses and had +established the right to talk to her whenever he got a chance. He +interested her, too, which was worse. His passing references to his +travels and to his adventures, of which he spoke with the indifference +of a man accustomed to danger, his unassuming manner, his frank +ways--everything about him awakened her interest. She had supposed that +in two years the very faculty of being interested by a man would be +dulled if not destroyed; she found to her annoyance that though she had +seen Mr. Juxon only twice she could not put him out of her thoughts. She +was, moreover, a nervous, almost morbid, woman, and the natural result of +trying to forget his existence was that she could think of nothing else. + +How much better it would be, she thought, if he knew her story from the +first. He might then be as friendly as he pleased; there would be no +danger in it, to him or to her. She almost determined to go at once and +ask the vicar's advice. But by the time she had nearly made up her mind +it was the hour for luncheon, and little Nellie's appetite was exigent. +By the time lunch was over her determination had changed. She had +reflected that the vicar would think her morbid, that, with his usual +good sense, he would say there was no necessity for telling the squire +anything; indeed, that to do so would be undignified. If the squire were +indeed going to lead the life of a recluse as he proposed doing, he was +not really a man to cause her any apprehension. If he had travelled about +the world for forty years, without having his heart disturbed by any of +the women he must have met in that time, he was certainly not the kind of +man, when once he had determined to settle in his home, to fall in love +with the first pretty woman he met. It was absurd; there was no +likelihood of it; it was her own miserable vanity, she told herself, +which made the thing seem probable, and she would not think any more +about it. She, a woman thirty-one years of age, with a daughter who ere +long would be growing up to womanhood! To be afraid of a mere stranger +like Mr. Juxon--afraid lest he should fall in love with her! Could +anything be more ridiculous? Her duty was to live quietly as she had +lived before, to take no more notice of the squire than was necessary in +order to be civil, and so all would be well. + +And so it seemed for a long time. The squire improved the garden of the +cottage and Mrs. Goddard and Nellie, with the Ambroses, dined at the +Hall, which at first seemed an exceedingly dreary and dismal place, but +which, as they returned thither again and again, grew more and more +luxurious, till the transformation was complete. Mr. Juxon brought all +manner of things to the house; vans upon vans arrived, laden with boxes +of books and pictures and oriental carpets and rare objects which the +squire had collected in his many years of travel, and which he appeared +to have stored in London until he had at last inherited the Hall. The +longer the Ambroses and Mrs. Goddard knew him, the more singularly +impressed they were with his reticence concerning himself. He appeared to +have been everywhere, to have seen everything, and he had certainly +brought back a vast collection of more or less valuable objects from his +travels, besides the large library he had accumulated and which contained +many rare and curious editions of ancient books. He was evidently a man +of very good education, and a much better scholar than he was willing to +allow. The vicar delighted in his society and when the two found +themselves together in the great room which Mr. Juxon had lined with +well-filled shelves, they remained for hours absorbed in literary and +scholastic talk. But whenever the vicar approached the subject of the +squire's past life, the latter became vague and gave ambiguous answers to +any direct questions addressed to him. He evidently disliked talking of +himself, though he would talk about anything else that occurred to him +with a fluency which Mrs. Ambrose declared was the only un-English thing +about him. The consequence was that the vicar became more and more +interested in his new acquaintance, and though the squire was so frank +and honest a man that it was impossible to suspect him of any doubtful +action in the past, Mr. Ambrose suspected that he had a secret. Indeed +after hearing the story Mrs. Goddard had confided to his ears, nothing +would have surprised the vicar. After finding that so good, so upright +and so honourable a woman as the fair tenant of the cottage could be put +into such a singularly painful position as that in which she now found +herself, it was not hard to imagine that this singular person who had +inherited the Hall might also have some weighty reason for loving the +solitude of Billingsfield. + +To chronicle the small events which occurred in that Arcadian parish, +would be to overstep the bounds of permissible tediousness. In such +places all events move slowly and take long to develop to their results. +The passions which in our own quickly moving world spring up, flourish, +wither and are cut down in a month require, when they are not stimulated +by the fertilising heat of artificial surroundings, a longer period for +their growth; and when that growth is attained they are likely to be +stronger and more deeply rooted. It is not true that the study of them is +less interesting, nor that they have less importance in themselves. The +difficulty of narrative is greater when they are to be described, for it +is necessary to carry the imagination in a short time over a long period, +to show how from small incidents great results follow, and to show also +how the very limited and trivial nature of the surroundings may cause +important things to be overlooked. Amidst such influences acquaintance is +soon made between the few persons so thrown together, but each is apt to +regard such new acquaintance merely as bearing upon his or her own +particular interests. It is surprising to see how people will live side +by side in solitude, even in danger, in distant settlements, in the +mining districts of the West, in up-country stations in India, on board +ship, even, for months and years, without knowing anything of each +other's previous history; whereas in the crowded centres of civilisation +and society the first questions are "Where does he come from?" "What are +his antecedents?" "What has he done in the world?" And unless a man can +answer such inquiries to the general satisfaction he is likely to be +heavily handicapped in the social race. But in more primitive situations +men are ruled by more primitive feelings of mutual respect; it is +considered that a man should not be pressed to speak of things he shows +no desire to discuss and that, provided he does not interfere with his +neighbour's wellbeing, his past life is nobody's business. One may feel +curiosity concerning him, but under no circumstances is one justified in +asking questions. + +For these reasons, although Mr. Juxon's arrival and instalment in the +Hall were regarded with satisfaction by the little circle at +Billingsfield, while he himself was at once received into intimacy and +treated with cordial friendliness, he nevertheless represented in the +minds of all an unsolved enigma. And to the squire the existence of one +of the circle was at least as problematical as his own life could seem to +any of them. The more he saw of Mrs. Goddard, the more he wondered at her +and speculated about her and the less he dared to ask her any questions. +But he understood from Mr. Ambrose's manner, that the vicar at least was +in possession of her secret, and he inferred from what he was able to +judge about the vicar's character that the latter was not a man to extend +his friendship to any one who did not deserve it. Whatever Mrs. Goddard's +story was, he felt sure that her troubles had not been caused by her own +misconduct. She was in every respect what he called a good woman. Of +course, too, she was a widow; the way in which she spoke of her husband +implied that, on those rare occasions when she spoke of him at all. +Charles James Juxon was a gentleman, whatever course of life he had +followed before settling in the country, and he did not feel that he +should be justified in asking questions about Mrs. Goddard of the vicar. +Besides, as time went on and he found his own interest in her increasing, +he began to nourish the hope that he might one day hear her story from +her own lips. In his simplicity it did not strike him that he himself had +grown to be an object of interest to her. + +Somehow, during the summer and autumn of that year, Mrs. Goddard +contracted a habit of watching the park gate from the window of the +cottage, particularly at certain hours of the day. It was only a habit, +but it seemed to amuse her. She used to sit in the small bay window with +her books, reading to herself or teaching Nellie, and it was quite +natural that from time to time she should look out across the road. But +it rarely happened, when she was installed in that particular place, that +Mr. Juxon failed to appear at the gate, with his dog Stamboul, his green +stockings, his stick and the inevitable rose in his coat. Moreover he +generally crossed the road and, if he did not enter the cottage and spend +a quarter of an hour in conversation, he at least spoke to Mrs. Goddard +through the open window. It was remarkable, too, that as time went on +what at first had seemed the result of chance, recurred with such +invariable regularity as to betray the existence of a fixed rule. Nellie, +too, who was an observant child, had ceased asking questions but watched +her mother with her great violet eyes in a way that made Mrs. Goddard +nervous. Nellie liked the squire very much but though she asked her +mother very often at first whether she, too, was fond of that nice Mr. +Juxon, the answers she received were not encouraging. How was it +possible, Mrs. Goddard asked, to speak of liking anybody one had known so +short a time? And as Nellie was quite unable to answer such an inquiry, +she desisted from her questions and applied herself to the method of +personal observation. But here, too, she was met by a hopeless +difficulty. The squire and her mother never seemed to have any secrets, +as Nellie would have expressed it. They met daily, and daily exchanged +very much the same remarks concerning the weather, the garden, the +vicar's last sermon. When they talked about anything else, they spoke of +books, of which the squire lent Mrs. Goddard a great number. But this was +a subject which did not interest Nellie very much; she was not by any +means a prodigy in the way of learning, and though she was now nearly +eleven years old was only just beginning to read the Waverley novels. On +one occasion she remarked to her mother that she did not believe a word +of them and did not think they were a bit like real life, but the +momentary fit of scepticism soon passed and Nellie read on contentedly, +not omitting however to watch her mother in order to find out, as her +small mind expressed it, "whether mamma really liked that nice Mr. +Juxon." Events were slowly preparing themselves which would help her to +come to a satisfactory conclusion upon that matter. + +Mr. Juxon himself was in a very uncertain state of mind. After knowing +Mrs. Goddard for six months, and having acquired the habit of seeing her +almost every day, he found to his surprise that she formed a necessary +part of his existence. It need not have surprised him, for in spite of +that lady's surmise with regard to his early life, he was in reality a +man of generous and susceptible temperament. He recognised in the +charming tenant of the cottage many qualities which he liked, and he +could not deny that she was exceedingly pretty. Being a strong man he was +particularly attracted by the pathetic expression of her face, the +perpetual sadness that was visible there when she was not momentarily +interested or amused. Had he suspected her paleness and air of secret +suffering to be the result of any physical infirmity, she would not have +interested him so much. But Mrs. Goddard's lithe figure and easy grace of +activity belied all idea of weakness. It was undoubtedly some hidden +suffering of mind which lent that sadness to her voice and features, and +which so deeply roused the sympathies of the squire. At the end of six +months Mr. Juxon was very much interested in Mrs. Goddard, but despite +all his efforts to be agreeable he seemed to have made no progress +whatever in the direction of banishing her cares. To tell the truth, it +did not enter his mind that he was in love with her. She was his tenant; +she was evidently very unhappy about something; it was therefore +undeniably his duty as a landlord and as a gentleman to make life +easy for her. + +He wondered what the matter could be. At first he had been inclined to +think that she was poor and was depressed by poverty. But though she +lived very simply, she never seemed to be in difficulties. Five hundred +pounds a year go a long way in the village of Billingsfield. It was +certainly not want of money which made her unhappy. The interest of the +sum represented by the pictures hung in her little sitting-room, not to +mention the other objects of value she possessed, would have been alone +sufficient to afford her a living. The squire himself would have given +her a high price for these things, but in six months she never in the +most distant manner suggested that she wished to part with them. The idea +then naturally suggested itself to Mr. Juxon's mind that she was still +mourning for her husband, and that she would probably continue to mourn +for him until some one, himself for instance, succeeded in consoling her +for so great a loss. + +The conclusion startled the squire. That was not precisely the part he +contemplated playing, nor the species of consolation he proposed to +offer. Mrs. Goddard was indeed a charming woman, and the squire liked +charming women and delighted in their society. But Mr. Juxon was a +bachelor of more than forty years standing, and he had never regarded +marriage as a thing of itself, for himself, desirable. He immediately +thrust the idea from his mind with a mental "_vade retro Satanas_!" and +determined that things were very agreeable in their present state, and +might go on for ever; that if Mrs. Goddard was unhappy that did not +prevent her from talking very pleasantly whenever he saw her, which was +nearly every day, and that her griefs were emphatically none of his +business. Before very long however Mr. Juxon discovered that though it +was a very simple thing to make such a determination it was a very +different thing to keep it. Mrs. Goddard interested him too much. When he +was with her he was perpetually longing to talk about herself instead of +about the weather and the garden and the books, and once or twice he was +very nearly betrayed into talking about himself, a circumstance so +extraordinary that Mr. Juxon imagined he must be either ill or going mad, +and thought seriously of sending for the doctor. He controlled the +impulse, however, and temporarily recovered; but strange to say from that +time forward the conversation languished when he found himself alone with +Mrs. Goddard, and it seemed very hard to maintain their joint interest in +the weather, the garden and the books at the proper standard of +intensity. They had grown intimate, and familiarity had begun to breed a +contempt of those petty subjects upon which their intimacy had been +founded. It is not clear why this should be so, but it is true, +nevertheless, and many a couple before Charles Juxon and Mary Goddard had +found it out. As the interest of two people in each other increases their +interest in things, as things, diminishes in like ratio, and they are +very certain ultimately to reach that point described by the Frenchman's +maxim--"a man should never talk to a woman except of herself or himself." + +If Mr. Juxon was not in love with Mary Goddard he was at least rapidly +approaching a very dangerous state; for he saw her every day and could +not let one day go by without seeing her, and moreover he grew silent in +her company, to a degree which embarrassed her and made him feel himself +more stupid than he had ever dreamed possible; so that he would sometimes +stay too long, in the hope of finding something to say, and sometimes he +would leave her abruptly and go and shut himself up with his books, and +busy himself with his catalogues and his bindings and the arrangement of +his rare editions. One day at last, he felt that he had behaved so very +absurdly that he was ashamed of himself, and suddenly disappeared for +nearly a week. When he returned he said he had been to town to attend a +great sale of books, which was perfectly true; he did not add that the +learned expert he employed in London could have done the business for him +just as well. But the trip had done him no good, for he grew more silent +than ever, and Mrs. Goddard even thought his brown face looked a shade +paler; but that might have been the effect of the winter weather. +Ordinary sunburn she reflected, as she looked at her own white skin in +the mirror, will generally wear off in six months, though freckles will +not. + +If Mr. Juxon was not in love, it would be very hard to say what Mary +Goddard felt. It was not true that time was effacing the memory of the +great sorrow she had suffered. It was there still, that memory, keen and +sharp as ever; it would never go away again so long as she lived. But she +had been soothed by the quiet life in Billingsfield; the evidences of the +past had been removed far from her, she had found in the Reverend +Augustin Ambrose one of those rare and manly natures who can keep a +secret for ever without ever referring to its existence even with the +person who has confided it. For a few days she had hesitated whether to +ask the vicar's advice about Mr. Juxon or not. She had thought it her +duty to allow Mr. Ambrose to tell the squire whatever he thought fit of +her own story. But she had changed her mind, and the squire had remained +in ignorance. It was best so, she thought; for now, after more than six +months, Mr. Juxon had taken the position of a friend towards her, and, as +she thought, showed no disposition whatever to overstep the boundaries of +friendship. The regularity of his visits and the sameness of the +conversation seemed of themselves a guarantee of his simple goodwill. It +did not strike her as possible that if he were going to fall in love with +her at all, that catastrophe should be postponed beyond six months from +their first acquaintance. Nor did it seem extraordinary to her that she +should actually look forward to those visits, and take pleasure in that +monotonous intercourse. Her life was very quiet; it was natural that she +should take whatever diversion came in her way, and should even be +thankful for it. Mr. Juxon was an honest gentleman, a scholar and a man +who had seen the world. If what he said was not always very original it +was always very true, a merit not always conceded to the highest +originality. He spoke intelligently; he told her the news; he lent her +the newest books and reviews, and offered her his opinions upon them, +with the regularity of a daily paper. In such a place, where +communications with the outer world seemed as difficult as at the +antipodes, and where the remainder of society was limited to the +household of the vicarage, what wonder was it if she found Mr. Juxon an +agreeable companion, and believed the companionship harmless? + +But far down in the involutions of her feminine consciousness there was +present a perpetual curiosity in regard to the squire, a curiosity she +never expected to satisfy, but was wholly unable to repress. Under the +influence of this feeling she made remarks from time to time of an +apparently harmless nature, but which in the squire promoted that strange +inclination to talk about himself, which he had lately observed and which +caused him so much alarm. He said to himself that he had nothing to be +concealed, and that if any one had asked him direct questions concerning +his past he would have answered them boldly enough. But he knew himself +to be so singularly averse to dwelling on his own affairs that he +wondered why he should now be impelled to break through so good a rule. +Indeed he had not the insight to perceive that Mrs. Goddard lost no +opportunity of leading him to the subject of his various adventures, and, +if he had suspected it, he would have been very much surprised. + +Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were far from guessing what an intimacy had sprung +up between the two. Both the cottage and the Hall lay at a considerable +distance from the vicarage, and though Mrs. Ambrose occasionally went to +see Mrs. Goddard at irregular hours in the morning and afternoon, it was +remarkable that the squire never called when she was there. Once Mrs. +Ambrose arrived during one of his visits, but thought it natural enough +that Mr. Juxon should drop in to see his tenant. Indeed when she called +the two were talking about the garden--as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +John Short had almost finished his hard work at college. For two years +and a half he had laboured on acquiring for himself reputation and a +certain amount of more solid advantage in the shape of scholarships. +Never in that time had he left Cambridge even for a day unless compelled +to do so by the regulations of his college. His father had found it hard +to induce him to come up to town; and, being in somewhat easier +circumstances since John had declared that he needed no further help to +complete his education, he had himself gone to see his son more than +once. But John had never been to Billingsfield and he knew nothing of the +changes that had taken place there. At last, however, Short felt that he +must have some rest before he went up for honours; he had grown thin and +even pale; his head ached perpetually, and his eyes no longer seemed so +good as they had been. He went to a doctor, and the doctor told him that +with his admirable constitution a few days of absolute rest would do all +that was necessary. John wrote to Mr. Ambrose to say that he would at +last accept the invitation so often extended and would spend the week +between Christmas and New Year's day at Billingsfield. + +There were great rejoicings at the vicarage. John had never been +forgotten for a day since he had left, each successive step in his career +had been hailed with hearty delight, and now that at last he was coming +back to rest himself for a week before the final effort Mrs. Ambrose was +as enthusiastic as her husband. Even Mrs. Goddard, who was not quite sure +whether she had ever seen John or not, and the squire who had certainly +never seen him, joined in the general excitement. Mrs. Goddard asked the +entire party to tea at the cottage and the squire asked them to come and +skate at the Hall and to dine afterwards; for the weather was cold and +the vicar said John was a very good skater. Was there anything John could +not do? There was nothing he could not do much better than anybody else, +answered Mr. Ambrose; and the good clergyman's pride in his pupil was +perhaps not the less because he had at first received him on charitable +considerations, and felt that if he had risked much in being so generous +he had also been amply rewarded by the brilliant success of his +undertaking. + +When John arrived, everybody said he was "so much improved." He had got +his growth now, being close upon one and twenty years of age; his blue +eyes were deeper set; his downy whiskers had disappeared and a small +moustache shaded his upper lip; he looked more intellectual but not less +strong, though Mrs. Ambrose said he was dreadfully pale--perhaps he owed +some of the improvement observed in his appearance to the clothes he +wore. Poor boy, he had been but scantily supplied in the old days; he +looked prosperous, now, by comparison. + +"We have had great additions to our society, since you left us," said the +vicar. "We have got a squire at the Hall, and a lady with a little girl +at the cottage." + +"Such a nice little girl," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. + +When John found out that the lady at the cottage was no other than the +lady in black to whom he had lost his heart two years and a half before, +he was considerably surprised. It would be absurd to suppose that the +boyish fancy which had made so much romance in his life for so many +months could outlast the excitements of the University. It would be +absurd to dignify such a fancy by any serious name. He had grown to be a +man since those days and he had put away childish things. He blushed to +remember that he had spent hours in writing odes to the beautiful +unknown, and whole nights in dreaming of her face. And yet he could +remember that as much as a year after he had left Billingsfield he still +thought of her as his highest ideal of woman, and still occasionally +composed a few verses to her memory, regretting, perhaps, the cooling of +his poetic ardour. Then he had gradually lost sight of her in the hard +work which made up his life. Profound study had made him more prosaic and +he believed that he had done with ideals for ever, after the manner of +many clever young fellows who at one and twenty feel that they are +separated from the follies of eighteen by a great and impassable gulf. +The gulf, however, was not in John's case so wide nor so deep but what, +at the prospect of being suddenly brought face to face, and made +acquainted, with her who for so long had seemed the object of a romantic +passion, he felt a strange thrill of surprise and embarrassment. Those +meetings of later years generally bring painful disillusion. How many of +us can remember some fair-haired little girl who in our childhood +represented to us the very incarnation of feminine grace and beauty, for +whom we fetched and carried, for whom we bound nosegays on the heath and +stole apples from the orchard and climbed upon the table after desert, if +we were left alone in the dining-room, to lay hands on some beautiful +sweetmeat wrapped in tinsel and fringes of pink paper--have we not met +her again in after-life, a grown woman, very, very far from our ideal of +feminine grace and beauty? And still in spite of changes in herself and +ourselves there has clung to her memory through all those years enough of +romance to make our heart beat a little faster at the prospect of +suddenly meeting her, enough to make us wonder a little regretfully if +she was at all like the little golden-haired child we loved long ago. + +But with John the feeling was stronger than that. It was but two years +and a half since he had seen Mrs. Goddard, and, not even knowing her +name, had erected for her a pedestal in his boyish heart. There was +moreover about her a mystery still unsolved. There was something odd and +strange in her one visit to the vicarage, in the fact that the vicar had +never referred to that visit and, lastly, it seemed unlike Mr. Ambrose to +have said nothing of her settlement in Billingsfield in the course of all +the letters he had written to John since the latter had left him. John +dwelt upon the name--Goddard--but it held no association for him. It was +not at all like the names he had given her in his imagination. He +wondered what she would be like and he felt nervously anxious to meet +her. Somehow, too, what he heard of the squire did not please him; he +felt an immediate antagonism to Mr. Juxon, to his books, to his amateur +scholarship, even to his appearance as described by Mrs. Ambrose, who +said he was such a thorough Englishman and wondered how he kept his hair +so smooth. + +It was not long before he had an opportunity of judging for himself of +what Mr. Ambrose called the recent addition to Billingsfield society. On +the very afternoon of his arrival the vicar proposed to walk up to the +Hall and have a look at the library, and John readily assented. It was +Christmas Eve and the weather, even in Essex, was sharp and frosty. The +muddy road was frozen hard and the afternoon sun, slanting through the +oak trees that bordered the road beyond the village, made no perceptible +impression on the cold. The two men walked briskly in the direction of +the park gate. Before they had quite reached it however, the door of the +cottage opposite was opened, and Stamboul, the Russian bloodhound, +bounded down the path, cleared the wicket gate in his vast stride, and +then turning suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to wait for his +master. But the dog instantly caught sight of the vicar, with whom he was +on very good terms, and trotted slowly up to him, thrusting his great +nose into his hand, and then proceeding to make acquaintance with John. +He seemed to approve of the stranger, for he gave a short sniff of +satisfaction and trotted back to the wicket of the cottage. At this +moment Mrs. Goddard and Nellie came out, followed by the squire arrayed +in his inevitable green stockings. There was however no rose in his coat. +Whether the greenhouses at the Hall had failed to produce any in the +bitter weather, or whether Mr. Juxon had transferred the rose from his +coat to the possession of Mrs. Goddard, is uncertain. The three came out +into the road where the vicar and John stood still to meet them. + +"Mrs. Goddard," said the clergyman, "this is Mr. Short, of whom you have +heard--John, let me introduce you to Mr. Juxon." + +John felt that he blushed violently as he took Mrs. Goddard's hand. He +would not have believed that he could feel so much embarrassed, and he +hated himself for betraying it. But nobody noticed his colour. The +weather was bright and cold, and even Mrs. Goddard's pale and delicate +skin had a rosy tinge. + +"We were just going for a walk," she explained. + +"And we were going to see you at the Hall," said the vicar to Mr. Juxon. + +"Let us do both," said the latter. "Let us walk to the Hall and have +a cup of tea. We can look at the ice and see whether it will bear +to-morrow." + +Everybody agreed to the proposal, and it so fell out that the squire and +the vicar went before while John and Mrs. Goddard followed and Nellie +walked between them, holding Stamboul by the collar, and talking to him +as she went. John looked at his companion, and saw with a strange +satisfaction that his first impression, the impression he had cherished +so long, had not been a mistaken one. Her deep violet eyes were still +sad, beautiful and dreamy. Her small nose was full of expression, and was +not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be. Her rich brown hair +waved across her forehead as it did on that day when John first saw her; +and now as he spoke with her, her mouth smiled, as he had been sure it +would. John felt a curious sense of pride in her, in finding that he had +not been deceived, that this ideal of whom he had dreamed was really and +truly very good to look at. He knew little of the artist's rules of +beauty; he had often looked with wonder at the faces in the illustrations +to Dr. Smith's classical dictionary, and had tried to understand where +the beauty of them lay, and at Cambridge he had seen and studied with +interest many photographs and casts from the antiques. But to his mind +the antique would not bear comparison for a moment with Mrs. Goddard, who +resembled no engraving nor photograph nor cast he had ever seen. + +And she, too, looked at him, and said to herself that he did not look +like what she had expected. He looked like a lean, fresh young Englishman +of moderate intelligence and in moderate circumstances. And yet she knew +that he was no ordinary young fellow, that he was wonderfully gifted, in +fact, and likely to make a mark in the world. She resolved to take a +proper interest in him. + +"Do you know," she said, "I have heard so much about you, that I feel as +though I had met you before, Mr. Short." + +"We really have met," said John. "Do you remember that hot day when you +came to the vicarage and I waked up Muggins for you?" + +"Yes--was that you? You have changed. That is, I suppose I did not see +you very well in the hurry." + +"I suppose I have changed in two years and a half. I was only a boy then, +you know. But how have you heard so much about me?" + +"Billingsfield," said Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, "is not a large +place. The Ambroses are very fond of you and always talk of what you are +doing." + +"And so you really live here, Mrs. Goddard? How long is it since you +came? Mr. Ambrose never told me--" + +"I have been here more than two years--two years last October," she +answered quietly. + +"The very year I left--only a month after I was gone. How strange!" + +Mrs. Goddard looked up nervously. She was frightened lest John should +have made any deductions from the date of her arrival. But John was +thinking in a very different train of thought. + +"Why is it strange?" she asked. + +"Oh, I hardly know," said John in considerable embarrassment. "I was only +thinking--about you--that is, about it all." + +The answer did not tend to quiet Mrs. Goddard's apprehensions. + +"About me?" she exclaimed. "Why should you think about me?" + +"It was very foolish, of course," said John. "Only, when I caught sight +of you that day I was very much struck. You know, I was only a boy, then. +I hoped you would come back--but you did not." He blushed violently, and +then glanced at his companion to see whether she had noticed it. + +"No," she said, "I did not come back for some time." + +"And then I was gone. Mr. Ambrose never told me you had come." + +"Why should he?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I think he might. You see Billingsfield has been a +sort of home to me, and it is a small place; so I thought he might have +told me the news." + +"I suppose he thought it would not interest you," said Mrs. Goddard. "I +am sure I do not know why it should. But you must be very fond of the +place, are you not?" + +"Very. As I was saying, it is very like home to me. My father lives in +town you know--that is not at all like home. One always associates the +idea of home with the country, and a vicarage and a Hall, and all that." + +"Does one?" said Mrs. Goddard, picking her way over the frozen mud of the +road. "Take care, Nellie, it is dreadfully slippery!" + +"How much she has grown," remarked John, looking at the girl's active +figure as she walked before them. "She was quite a little girl when I saw +her first." + +"Yes, she grows very fast," answered Mrs. Goddard rather regretfully. + +"You say that as though you were sorry." + +"I? No. I am glad to see her grow. What a funny remark." + +"I thought you spoke sadly," explained John. + +"Oh, dear no. Only she is coming to the awkward age." + +"She is coming to it very gracefully," said John, who wanted to say +something pleasant. + +"That is the most any of us can hope to do," answered Mrs. Goddard with a +little smile. "We all have our awkward age, I suppose." + +"I should not think you could remember yours." + +"Why? Do you think it was so very long ago?" Mrs. Goddard laughed. + +"No--I cannot believe you ever had any," said John. + +The boyish compliment pleased Mrs. Goddard. It was long since any one had +flattered her, for flattery did not enter into the squire's system for +making himself agreeable. + +"Do they teach that sort of thing at Cambridge?" she asked demurely. + +"What sort of thing?" + +"Making little speeches to ladies," said she. + +"No--I wish they did," said John, laughing. "I should know much better +how to make them. We learn how to write Greek odes to moral +abstractions." + +"What a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. + +"Do you think so? I do not know. Now, for instance, I have written a +great many Greek odes to you--" + +"To me?" interrupted his companion in surprise. + +"Do you think it is so very extraordinary?" + +"Very." + +"Well--you see--I only saw you once--you won't laugh?" + +"No," said Mrs. Goddard, who was very much amused, and was beginning to +think that John Short was the most original young man she had ever met. + +"I only saw you once, when you came to the vicarage, and I had not the +least idea what your name was. But I--I hoped you would come back; and so +I used to write poems to you. They were very good, too," added John in a +meditative tone, "I have never written any nearly so good as they were." + +"Really?" Mrs. Goddard looked at him rather incredulously and then +laughed. + +"You said you would not laugh," objected John. + +"I cannot help it in the least," said she. "It seems so funny." + +"It did not seem funny to me, I can assure you," replied John rather +warmly. "I thought it very serious." + +"You don't do it now, do you?" asked Mrs. Goddard, looking up at him +quietly. + +"Oh no--a man's ideals change so much, you know," answered John, who felt +he had been foolishly betrayed into telling his story, and hated to be +laughed at. + +"I am very glad of that. How long are you going to stay here, Mr. Short?" + +"Until New Year's Day, I think," he answered. "Perhaps you will have time +to forget about the poetry before I go." + +"I don't know why," said Mrs. Goddard, noticing his hurt tone. "I +think it was very pretty--I mean the way you did it. You must be a born +poet--to write verses to a person you did not know and had only seen +once!" + +"It is much easier than writing verses to moral abstractions one has +never seen at all," explained John, who was easily pacified. "When a man +writes a great deal he feels the necessity of attaching all those +beautiful moral qualities to some real, living person whom he can see--" + +"Even if he only sees her once," remarked Mrs. Goddard demurely. + +"Yes, even if he only sees her once. You have no idea how hard it is to +concentrate one's faculties upon a mere idea; but the moment a man sees a +woman whom he can endow with all sorts of beautiful qualities--why it's +just as easy as hunting." + +"I am glad to have been of so much service to you, even +unconsciously--but, don't you think perhaps Mrs. Ambrose would have done +as well?" + +"Mrs. Ambrose?" repeated John. Then he broke into a hearty laugh. "No--I +have no hesitation in saying that she would not have done as well. I am +deeply indebted to Mrs. Ambrose for a thousand kindnesses, for a great +deal more than I can tell--but, on the whole, I say, no; I could not have +written odes to Mrs. Ambrose." + +"No, I suppose not. Besides, fancy the vicar's state of mind! She would +have had to call him in to translate your poetry." + +"It is very singular," said John in a tone of reflection. "But, if I had +not done all that, we should not be talking as we are now, after ten +minutes acquaintance." + +"Probably not," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"No--certainly not. By the bye, there is the Hall. I suppose you have +often been there since Mr. Juxon came--what kind of man is he?" + +"He has been a great traveller," answered his companion. "And then--well, +he is a scholar and has an immense library--" + +"And an immense dog--yes, but I mean, what kind of man is he himself?" + +"He is very agreeable," said Mrs. Goddard quietly. "Very well bred, very +well educated. We find him a great addition in Billingsfield." + +"I should think so, if he is all you say," said John discontentedly. His +antagonism against Mr. Juxon was rapidly increasing. Mrs. Goddard looked +at him in some surprise, being very far from understanding his tone. + +"I think you will like him," she said. "He knows all about you from the +Ambroses, and he always speaks of you with the greatest admiration." + +"Really? It is awfully kind of him, I am sure. I am very much obliged," +said John rather contemptuously. + +"Why do you speak like that?" asked Mrs. Goddard gravely. "You cannot +possibly have any cause for disliking him. Besides, he is a friend of +ours--" + +"Oh, of course, then it is different," said John. "If he is a friend of +yours--" + +"Do you generally take violent dislikes to people at first sight, Mr. +Short?" + +"Oh, dear no. Not at all--at least, not dislikes. I suppose Mr. Juxon's +face reminds me of somebody I do not like. I will behave like an angel. +Here we are." + +The effect of this conversation upon the two persons between whom it took +place was exceedingly different. Mrs. Goddard was amused, without being +altogether pleased. She had made the acquaintance of a refreshingly young +scholar whom she understood to be full of genius. He was enthusiastic, +simple, seemingly incapable of concealing anything that passed through +his mind, unreasonable and evidently very susceptible. On the whole, she +thought she should like him, though his scornful manner in speaking of +the squire had annoyed her. The interest she could feel in him, if she +felt any at all, would be akin to that of the vicar in the boy. He was +only a boy; brilliantly talented, they said, but still a mere boy. She +was fully ten years older than he--she might almost be his mother--well, +not quite that, but very nearly. It was amusing to think of his writing +odes to her. She wished she could see translations of them, and she +almost made up her mind to ask him to show them to her. + +John on the other hand experienced a curious sensation. He had never +before been in the society of so charming a woman. He looked at her and +looked again, and came to the conclusion that she was not only charming +but beautiful. He had not the least idea of her age; it is not the manner +of his kind to think much about the age of a woman, provided she is not +too young. The girl might be ten. Mrs. Goddard might have married at +sixteen--twenty-six, twenty-seven--what was that? John called himself +twenty-two. Five years was simply no difference at all! Besides, who +cared for age? + +He had suddenly found himself almost on a footing of intimacy with this +lovely creature. His odes had served him well; it had pleased her to hear +the story. She had laughed a little, of course; but women, as John knew, +always laugh when they are pleased. He would like to show her his odes. +As he walked through the park by her side he felt a curious sense of +possession in her which gave him a thrill of exquisite delight; and when +they entered the Hall he felt as though he were resigning her to the +squire, which gave him a corresponding sense of annoyance. When an +Englishman experiences these sensations, he is in love. John resolved +that whatever happened he would walk back with Mrs. Goddard. + +"Come in," said the squire cheerily. "We are not so cold as we used to be +up here." + +A great fire of logs was burning upon the hearth in the Hall. Stamboul +stalked up to the open chimney, scratched the tiger's skin which served +for a rug, and threw himself down as though his day's work were done. +Mr. Juxon went up to Mrs. Goddard. + +"I think you had better take off your coat," he said. "The house is very +warm." + +Mrs. Goddard allowed the squire to help her in removing the heavy black +jacket lined and trimmed with fur, which she wore. John eyed the +proceeding uneasily and kept on his greatcoat. + +"Thank you--I don't mind the heat," he said shortly when the squire +suggested to him that he might be too warm. John was in a fit of +contrariety. Mrs. Goddard glanced at him, as he spoke, and he thought he +detected a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, which did not tend to smooth +his temper. + +"You will have some tea, Mrs. Goddard?" said Mr. Juxon, leading the way +into the library, which he regarded as the most habitable room in the +house. Mrs. Goddard walked by his side and the vicar followed, while John +and Nellie brought up the rear. + +"Is not it a beautiful place?" said Nellie, who was anxious that the +new-comer should appreciate the magnificence of the Hall. + +"Can't see very well," said John, "it is so dark." + +"Oh, but it is beautiful," insisted Miss Nellie. "And they have lots of +lamps here in the evening. Perhaps Mr. Juxon will have them lighted +before we go. He is always so kind." + +"Is he?" asked John with a show of interest. + +"Yes--he brings mamma a rose every day," said Nellie. + +"Not really?" said John, beginning to feel that he was justified in +hating the squire with all his might. + +"Yes--and books, too. Lots of them--but then, he has so many. See, this +is the library. Is not it splendid!" + +John looked about him and was surprised. The last rays of the setting sun +fell across the open lawn and through the deep windows of the great room, +illuminating the tall carved bookcases, the heavily gilt bindings, the +rich, dark Russia leather and morocco of the folios. The footsteps of the +party fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet and almost insensibly the +voices of the visitors dropped to a lower key. A fine large wood fire was +burning on the hearth, carefully covered with a metal netting lest any +spark should fly out and cause damage to the treasures accumulated in the +neighbouring shelves. + +"Pray make yourself at home, Mr. Short," said the squire, coming up to +John. "You may find something of interest here. There are some old +editions of the classics that are thought rare--some specimens of +Venetian printing, too, that you may like to look at. Mr. Ambrose can +tell you more about them than I." + +John's feeling of antagonism, and even his resentment against Mr. Juxon, +roused by Nellie's innocent remark about the roses, were not proof +against the real scholastic passion aroused by the sight of rare and +valuable books. In a few minutes he had divested himself of his greatcoat +and was examining the books with an expression of delight upon his face +which was pleasant to see. He glanced from time to time at the other +persons in the room and looked very often at Mrs. Goddard, but on the +whole he was profoundly interested in the contents of the library. Mrs. +Goddard was installed in a huge leathern easy-chair by the fire, and the +squire was handing her one after another a number of new volumes which +lay upon a small table, and which she appeared to examine with interest. +Nellie knew where to look for her favourite books of engravings and had +curled herself up in a corner absorbed in "Hyde's Royal Residences." The +vicar went to look for something he wanted to consult. + +"What do you think of our new friend?" asked Mrs. Goddard of the squire. +She spoke in a low tone and did not look up from the new book he had just +handed her. + +"He appears to have a very peculiar temper," said Mr. Juxon. "But he +looks clever." + +"What do you think he was talking about as we came through the park?" +asked Mrs. Goddard. + +"What?" + +"He was saying that he saw me once before he went to college, and--fancy +how deliciously boyish! he said he had written ever so many Greek odes to +my memory since!" Mrs. Goddard laughed a little and blushed faintly. + +"Let us hope, for the sake of his success, that you may continue to +inspire him," said the squire gravely. "I have no doubt the odes were +very good." + +"So he said. Fancy!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Mrs. Goddard did not mean to walk home with John; but on the other hand +she did not mean to walk with the squire. She revolved the matter in her +mind as she sat in the library talking in an undertone with Mr. Juxon. +She liked the great room, the air of luxury, the squire's tea and the +squire's conversation. It is worth noticing that his flow of talk was +more abundant to-day than it had been for some time; whether it was +John's presence which stimulated Mr. Juxon's imagination, or whether +Mrs. Goddard had suddenly grown more interesting since John Short's +appearance it is hard to say; it is certain that Mr. Juxon talked better +than usual. + +The afternoon, however, was far spent and the party had only come to make +a short visit. Mrs. Goddard rose from her seat. + +"Nellie, child, we must be going home," she said, calling to the little +girl who was still absorbed in the book of engravings which she had taken +to the window to catch the last of the waning light. + +John started and came forward with alacrity. The vicar looked up; Nellie +reluctantly brought her book back. + +"It is very early," objected the squire. "Really, the days have no +business to be so short." + +"It would not seem like Christmas if they were long," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"It does not seem like Christmas anyhow," remarked John, enigmatically. +No one understood his observation and no one paid any attention to it. +Whereupon John's previous feeling of annoyance returned and he went to +look for his greatcoat in the dark corner where he had laid it. + +"You must not come all the way back with us," said Mrs. Goddard as they +all went out into the hall and began to put on their warm things before +the fire. "Really--it is late. Mr. Ambrose will give me his arm." + +The squire insisted however, and Stamboul, who had had a comfortable nap +by the fire, was of the same opinion as his master and plunged wildly at +the door. + +"Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ambrose?" said Mrs. Goddard, looking +rather timidly at the vicar as they stood upon the broad steps in the +sparkling evening air. She felt that she was disappointing both the +squire and John, but she had quite made up her mind. She had her own +reasons. The vicar, good man, was unconsciously a little flattered by her +choice, as with her hand resting on the sleeve of his greatcoat he led +the way down the park. The squire and John were fain to follow together, +but Nellie took her mother's hand, and Stamboul walked behind affecting +an unusual gravity. + +"You must come again when there is more daylight," said Mr. Juxon to his +companion. + +"Thank you," said John. "You are very good." He intended to relapse into +silence, but his instinct made him ashamed of seeming rude. "You have a +magnificent library," he added presently in a rather cold tone. + +"You have been used to much better ones in Cambridge," said the squire, +modestly. + +"Do you know Cambridge well, Mr. Juxon?" + +"Very well. I am a Cambridge man, myself." + +"Indeed?" exclaimed John, immediately discovering that the squire was not +so bad as he had thought. "Indeed! I had no idea. Mr. Ambrose never told +me that." + +"I am not sure that he is aware of it," said Mr. Juxon quietly. "The +subject never happened to come up." + +"How odd!" remarked John, who could not conceive of associating with a +man for any length of time without asking at what University he had +been. + +"I don't know," answered Mr. Juxon. "There are lots of other things to +talk about." + +"Oh--of course," said John, in a tone which did not express conviction. + +Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard walked briskly in front; so +briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say, +in order to keep up with them. + +"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, as they turned a +bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and +red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just +above the fading glow. + +"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you +see the new moon!" + +Mrs. Goddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little +closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether +there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps +Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the +subject. + +"How do you like our John Short?" he asked. + +"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. Goddard. "He is so fresh and young." + +"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like +what you fancied he would be?" + +"Well no--not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always +thought he would be rather Byronic--the poetical type, if you know what +I mean." + +"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of +profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw." + +"Oh yes--I daresay," replied Mrs. Goddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure +he must be very clever." + +So they chatted quietly as they walked down the park. But the squire and +John did not make progress in their conversation, and by the time they +reached the gate they had yielded to an awkward silence. They had both +been annoyed because Mrs. Goddard had taken the vicar's arm instead of +choosing one of themselves, but the joint sense of disappointment did not +constitute a common bond of interest. Either one would have suffered +anything rather than mention Mrs. Goddard to the other in the course of +the walk. And yet Mr. Juxon might have been John's father. At the gate of +the cottage they separated. The squire said he would turn back. Mrs. +Goddard had reached her destination. John and the vicar would return to +the vicarage. John tried to linger a moment, to get a word with Mrs. +Goddard. He was so persistent that she let him follow her through the +wicket gate and then turned quickly. + +"What is it?" she asked, rather suddenly, holding out her hand to say +good-bye. + +"Oh, nothing," answered John. "That is--would you like to see one of +those--those little odes of mine?" + +"Yes, certainly, if you like," she answered frankly, and then laughed. +"Of course I would. Good-night." + +He turned and fled. The vicar was waiting for him, and eyed him rather +curiously as he came back. Mr. Juxon was standing in the middle of the +road, making Stamboul jump over his stick, backwards and forwards. + +"Good-night," he said, pausing in his occupation. The vicar and John +turned away and walked homewards. Before they turned the corner towards +the village John instinctively looked back. Mr. Juxon was still making +Stamboul jump the stick before the cottage, but as far as he could see in +the dusk, Mrs. Goddard and Nellie had disappeared within. John felt that +he was very unhappy. + +"Mr. Ambrose," he began. Then he stopped and hesitated. "Mr. Ambrose," he +continued at last, "you never told me half the news of Billingsfield in +your letters." + +"You mean about Mrs. Goddard? Well--no--I did not think it would interest +you very much." + +"She is a very interesting person," said John. He could have added that +if he had known she was in Billingsfield he would have made a great +sacrifice in order to come down for a day to make her acquaintance. But +he did not say it. + +"She is a great addition," said the vicar. + +"Oh--very great, I should think." + +Christmas eve was passed at the vicarage in preparation for the morrow. +Mrs. Ambrose was very active in binding holly wherever it was possible to +put it. The mince-pies were tasted and pronounced a success, and old +Reynolds was despatched to the cottage with a small basket containing a +certain number of them as a present to Mrs. Goddard. An emissary appeared +from the Hall with a variety of articles which the squire begged to +contribute towards the vicar's Christmas dinner; among others a haunch of +venison which Mrs. Ambrose pronounced to be in the best condition. The +vicar retorted by sending to the Hall a magnificent Cottenham cheese +which, as a former Fellow of Trinity, he had succeeded in obtaining. +Moreover Mr. Ambrose himself descended to the cellar and brought up +several bottles of Audit ale which he declared must be allowed to stand +some time in the pantry in order to bring out the flavour and to be +thoroughly settled. John gave his assistance wherever it was needed and +enjoyed vastly the old-fashioned preparations for Christmas day. It was +long since the season had brought him such rejoicing and he intended to +rejoice with a good will towards men and especially towards the Ambroses. +After dinner the whole party, consisting of three highly efficient +persons and old Reynolds, adjourned to the church to complete the +decorations for the morrow. + +The church of Billingsfield, known as St. Mary's, was quite large enough +to contain twice the entire population of the parish. It was built upon a +part of the foundations of an ancient abbey, and the vicar was very proud +of the monument of a crusading Earl of Oxford which he had caused to be +placed in the chancel, it having been discovered in the old chancel of +the abbey in the park, far beyond the present limits of the church. The +tower was the highest in the neighbourhood. The whole building was of +gray rubble, irregular stones set together with a crumbling cement, and +presented an appearance which, if not architecturally imposing, was at +least sufficiently venerable. At the present time the aisles were full of +heaped-up holly and wreaths; a few lamps and a considerable number of +tallow candles shed a rather feeble light amongst the pillars; a crowd of +school children, not yet washed for the morrow, were busy under the +directions of the schoolmistress in decorating the chancel; Mr. Thomas +Reid the conservative sexton was at the top of a tall ladder, presumably +using doubtful language to himself as every third nail he tried to drive +into the crevices of the stone "crooked hisself and larfed at him," as he +expressed it; the organ was playing and a dozen small boys with three or +four men were industriously practising the anthem "Arise, Shine," +producing strains which if not calculated altogether to elevate the heart +by their harmony, would certainly have caused the hair of a sensitive +musician to rise on end; three or four of the oldest inhabitants were +leaning on their sticks in the neighbourhood of the great stove in the +middle aisle, warming themselves and grumbling that "times warn't as they +used to be;" Mr. Abraham Boosey was noisily declaring that he had +"cartlods more o' thim greens" to come, and Muggins, who had had some +beer, was stumbling cheerfully against the pews in his efforts to bring a +huge load of fir branches to the foot of Mr. Thomas Reid's long ladder. +It was a thorough Christmas scene and John Short's heart warmed as he +came back suddenly to the things which for three years had been so +familiar to him and which he had so much missed in his solitude at +Cambridge. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose set to work and John followed their +example. Even the prickly holly leaves were pleasant to touch and there +was a homely joy in the fir branches dripping with half melted snow. + +Before they had been at work very long, John was aware of a little +figure, muffled in furs and standing beside him. He looked up and saw +little Nellie's lovely face and long brown curls. + +"Can't I help you, Mr. Short?" she asked timidly. "I like to help, and +they won't let me." + +"Who are 'they'?" asked John kindly, but looking about for the figure of +Nellie's mother. + +"The schoolmistress and Mrs. Ambrose. They said I should dirty my frock." + +"Well," said John, doubtfully, "I don't know. Perhaps you would. But you +might hold the string for me--that won't hurt your clothes, you know." + +"There are more greens this year," remarked Nellie, sitting down upon the +end of the choir bench where John was at work and taking the ball of +string in her hand. "Mr. Juxon has sent a lot from the park." + +"He seems to be always sending things," said John, who had no reason +whatever for saying so, except that the squire had sent a hamper to the +vicarage. "Did he stay long before dinner?" he added, in the tone people +adopt when they hope to make children talk. + +"Stay long where?" asked Nellie innocently. + +"Oh, I thought he went into your house after we left you," answered John. + +"Oh no--he did not come in," said Nellie. John continued to work in +silence. At some distance from where he was, Mrs. Goddard was talking to +Mrs. Ambrose. He could see her graceful figure, but he could hardly +distinguish her features in the gloom of the dimly-lighted church. He +longed to leave Nellie and to go and speak to her, but an undefined +feeling of hurt pride prevented him. He would not forgive her for having +taken the vicar's arm in coming home through the park; so he stayed where +he was, pricking his fingers with the holly and rather impatiently +pulling the string off the ball which Nellie held. If Mrs. Goddard wanted +to speak to him, she might come of her own accord, he thought, for he +felt that he had behaved foolishly in asking if she wished to see his +odes. Somehow, when he thought about it, the odes did not seem so good +now as they had seemed that afternoon. + +Mrs. Goddard had not seen him at first, and for some time she remained in +consultation with Mrs. Ambrose. At last she turned and looking for Nellie +saw that she was seated beside John; to his great delight she came +towards him. She looked more lovely than ever, he thought; the dark fur +about her throat set off her delicate, sad face like a frame. + +"Oh--are you here, too, Mr. Short?" she said. + +"Hard at work, as you see," answered John. "Are you going to help, Mrs. +Goddard? Won't you help me?" + +"I wanted to," said Nellie, appealing to her mother, "but they would not +let me, so I can only hold the string." + +"Well, dear--we will see if we can help Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard +good-naturedly, and she sat down upon the choir bench. + +John never forgot that delightful Christmas Eve. For nearly two hours he +never left Mrs. Goddard's side, asking her advice about every branch and +bit of holly and following out to the letter her most minute suggestions. +He forgot all about the squire and about the walk back from the park, in +the delight of having Mrs. Goddard to himself. He pushed the school +children about and spoke roughly to old Reynolds if her commands were not +instantly executed; he felt in the little crowd of village people that he +was her natural protector, and he wished he might never have anything in +the world to do save to decorate a church in her company. He grew more +and more confidential and when the work was all done he felt that he had +thoroughly established himself in her good graces and went home to dream +of the happiest day he had ever spent. The organ ceased playing, the +little choir dispersed, the school children were sent home, Mr. Abraham +Boosey retired to the bar of the Duke's Head, Muggins tenderly embraced +every tombstone he met on his way through the churchyard, the +"gentlefolk" followed Reynolds' lantern towards the vicarage, and Mr. +Thomas Reid, the conservative and melancholic sexton, put out the lights +and locked the church doors, muttering a sour laudation of more primitive +times, when "the gentlefolk minded their business." + +For the second time that day, John and Mr. Ambrose walked as far as the +cottage, to see Mrs. Goddard to her home. When they parted from her and +Nellie, John was careful not to say anything more about the odes, a +subject to which Mrs. Goddard had not referred in the course of the +evening. John thanked her rather effusively for her help--he could never +have got through those choir benches without her, he said; and the vicar +added that he was very much obliged, too, and surreptitiously conveyed +to Mrs. Goddard's hand a small package intended for Miss Nellie's +Christmas stocking, from him and his wife, and which he had forgotten to +give earlier. Nellie was destined to have a fuller stocking than usual +this year, for the squire had remembered her as well as Mr. Ambrose. + +John went to bed in his old room at the vicarage protesting that he had +enjoyed the first day of his holiday immensely. As he blew out the light, +he thought suddenly how often in that very room he had gone to bed +dreaming about the lady in black and composing verses to her, till +somehow the Greek terminations would get mixed up with the Latin roots, +the quantities all seemed to change places, and he used to fall asleep +with a delicious half romantic sense of happiness always unfulfilled yet +always present. And now at last it began to be fulfilled in earnest; he +had met the lady in black at last, had spent nearly half a day in her +company and was more persuaded than ever that she was really and truly +his ideal. He did not go to sleep so soon as in the old days, and he was +sorry to go to sleep at all; he wanted to enjoy all his delicious +recollections of that afternoon before he slept and, as he recapitulated +the events which had befallen him and recalled each expression of the +face that had charmed him and every intonation of the charmer's voice, he +felt that he had never been really happy before, that no amount of +success at Cambridge could give him half the delight he had +experienced during one hour in the old Billingsfield church, and that +altogether life anywhere else was not worth living. To-morrow he would +see Mrs. Goddard again, and the next day and the day after that and +then--"bother the future!" ejaculated John, and went to sleep. + +He awoke early, roused by the loud clanging of the Christmas bells, and +looking out he saw that the day was fine and cold and bright as Christmas +day should be, and generally is. The hoar frost was frozen into fantastic +shapes upon his little window, the snow was clinging to the yew branches +outside and the robins were hopping and chirping over the thin crust of +frozen snow that just covered the ground. The road was hard and brown as +on the previous day, and the ice in the park would probably bear. Perhaps +Mrs. Goddard would skate in the afternoon between the services, but +then--Juxon would be there. "Never mind Juxon," quoth John to himself, +"it is Christmas day!" + +At the vicarage and elsewhere, all over the land, those things were done +which delight the heart of Englishmen at the merry season. Everybody +shook hands with everybody else, everybody cried "Merry Christmas!" to +his neighbour in the street, with an intonation as though he were saying +something startlingly new and brilliant which had never been said before. +Every labourer who had a new smock-frock put it on, and those who had +none had at least a bit of new red worsted comforter about their throats +and began the day by standing at their doors in the cold morning, smoking +a "ha'p'orth o' shag" in a new clay pipe, greeting each other across the +village street. Muggins, who had spent a portion of the night in +exchanging affectionate Christmas wishes with the tombstones in the +churchyard, appeared fresh and ruddy at an early hour, clad in the long +black coat and tall hat which he was accustomed to wear when he drove Mr. +Boosey's fly on great festivals. Most of the cottages in the single +street sported a bit of holly in their windows, and altogether the +appearance of Billingsfield was singularly festive and mirthful. At +precisely ten minutes to eleven the vicar and Mrs. Ambrose, accompanied +by John, issued from the vicarage and went across the road by the private +path to the church. As they entered the porch Mr. Reid, who stood +solemnly tolling the small bell, popularly nicknamed the "Ting-tang," +and of which the single rope passed down close to the south door, +vouchsafed John a sour smile of recognition. John felt as though he had +come home. Mrs. Goddard and Nellie appeared a moment afterwards and took +their seats in the pew traditionally belonging to the cottage, behind +that of the squire who was always early, and the sight of whose smoothly +brushed hair and brown beard was a constant source of satisfaction to +Mrs. Ambrose. John and Mrs. Ambrose sat on the opposite side of the +aisle, but John's eyes strayed very frequently towards Mrs. Goddard; so +frequently indeed that she noticed it and leaned far back in her seat to +avoid his glance. Whereupon John blushed and felt that the vicar, who was +reading the Second Lesson, had probably noticed his distraction. It was +hard to realise that two years and a half had passed since he had sat in +that same pew; perhaps, however, the presence of Mrs. Goddard helped him +to understand the lapse of time. But for her it would have been very +hard; for the vicar's voice sounded precisely as it used to sound; Mrs. +Ambrose had not lost her habit of removing one glove and putting it into +her prayer book as a mark while she found the hymn in the accompanying +volume; the bright decorations looked as they looked years ago above the +organ and round the chancel; from far down the church, just before the +sermon, came the old accustomed sound of small boys shuffling their +hobnailed shoes upon the stone floor and the audible guttural whisper of +the churchwarden admonishing them to "mind the stick;" the stained-glass +windows admitted the same pleasant light as of yore--all was unchanged. +But Mrs. Goddard and Nellie occupied the cottage pew, and their presence +alone was sufficient to mark to John the fact that he was now a man. + +The service was sympathetic to John Short. He liked the simplicity of it, +even the rough singing of the choir, as compared with the solemn and +magnificent musical services of Trinity College Chapel. But it seemed +very long before it was all over and he was waiting for Mrs. Goddard +outside the church door. + +There were more greetings, more "Merry Christmas" and "Many happy +returns." Mrs. Goddard looked more charming than ever and was quite as +cordial as on the previous evening. + +"How much better it all looked this morning by daylight," she said. + +"I think it looked very pretty last night," answered John. "There is +nothing so delightful as Christmas decorations, is there?" + +"Perhaps you will come down next year and help us again?" suggested Mrs. +Goddard. + +"Yes--well, I might come at Easter, for that matter," answered the young +man, who after finding it impossible to visit Billingsfield during two +years and a half, now saw no difficulty whatever in the way of making two +visits in the course of six months. "Do you still decorate at Easter?" he +asked. + +"Oh yes--do you think you can come?" she said pleasantly. "I thought you +were to be very busy just then." + +"Yes, that is true," answered John. "But of course I could come, you +know, if it were necessary." + +"Hardly exactly necessary--" Mrs. Goddard laughed. + +"The doctor told me some relaxation was absolutely indispensable for my +health," said John rather sententiously. + +"You don't really look very ill--are you?" She seemed incredulous. + +"Oh no, of course not--only a little overworked sometimes." + +"In that case I have no doubt it would do you good," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"Do you really think so?" asked John, hopefully. + +"Oh--that is a matter for your doctor to decide. I cannot possibly tell," +she answered. + +"I think you would make a very good doctor, Mrs. Goddard," said John +venturing on a bolder flight. + +"Really--I never thought of trying it," she replied with a little laugh. +"Good morning, Mr. Ambrose. Nellie wants to thank you for your beautiful +present. It was really too good of you." + +The vicar came out of the vestry and joined the group in the path. Mrs. +Ambrose, who had been asking Tom Judd's wife about her baby, also came +up, and the squire, who had been presenting Mr. Reid with ten shillings +for his Christmas box and who looked singularly bereaved without the +faithful Stamboul at his heels, sauntered up and began congratulating +everybody. In the distance the last of the congregation, chiefly the old +women and cripples who could not keep up with the rest, hobbled away +through the white gate of the churchyard. + +It had been previously agreed that if the ice would bear there should be +skating in the afternoon and the squire was anxious to inform the party +that the pond was in excellent condition. + +"As black as your hat," he said cheerfully. "Stamboul and I have been +sliding all over it, so of course it would bear an ox. It did not crack +anywhere." + +"Do you skate, Mrs. Goddard?" asked John. + +"Not very well--not nearly so well as Nellie. But I am very fond of it." + +"Will you let me push you about in a chair, then? It is capital fun." + +"Very good fun for me, no doubt," answered Mrs. Goddard, laughing. + +"I would rather do it than anything else," said John in a tone of +conviction. "It is splendid exercise, pushing people about in chairs." + +"So it is," said the squire, heartily. "We will take turns, Mr. Short." +The suggestion did not meet with any enthusiastic response from John, who +wished Mr. Juxon were not able to skate. + +Poor John, he had but one idea, which consisted simply in getting Mrs. +Goddard to himself as often and as long as possible. Unfortunately this +idea did not coincide with Mr. Juxon's views. Mr. Juxon was an older, +slower and calmer man than the enthusiastic young scholar, and though +very far from obtruding his views or making any assertion of his rights, +was equally far from forgetting them. He was a man more of actions than +words. He had been in the habit of monopolising Mrs. Goddard's society +for months and he had no intention of relinquishing his claims, even for +the charitable purpose of allowing a poor student to enjoy his Christmas +holiday and bit of romance undisturbed. If John had presented himself as +a boy, it might have been different; but John emphatically considered +himself a man, and the squire was quite willing to treat him as such, +since he desired it. That is to say he would not permit him to "cut him +out" as he would have expressed it. The result of the position in which +John and Mr. Juxon soon found themselves was to be expected. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +John did not sleep so peacefully nor dream so happily that night as on +the night before. The course of true love had not run smooth that +afternoon. The squire had insisted upon having his share of the lovely +Mrs. Goddard's society and she herself had not seemed greatly disturbed +at a temporary separation from John. The latter amused her for a little +while; the former held the position of a friend whose conversation she +liked better than that of other people. John was disappointed and thought +of going back to Cambridge the next day. So strong, indeed, was his +sudden desire to leave Billingsfield without finishing his visit, that +before going to bed he had packed some of his belongings into his small +portmanteau; the tears almost stood in his eyes as he busied himself +about his room and he muttered certain formulae of self-accusation as he +collected his things, saying over and over in his heart--"What a fool I +am! Why should she care for me? What am I that she should care for me?" +etc. etc. Then he opened his window and looked at the bright stars which +shone out over the old yew tree; but it was exceedingly cold, and so he +shut it again and went to bed, feeling very uncomfortable and unhappy. + +But when he awoke in the morning he looked at his half-packed portmanteau +and laughed, and instead of saying "What a fool I am!" he said "What a +fool I was!"--which is generally and in most conditions of human affairs +a much wiser thing to say. Then he carefully took everything out of the +portmanteau again and replaced things as they had lain before in his +room, lest perchance Susan, the housemaid, should detect what had passed +through his mind on the previous evening and should tell Mrs. Ambrose. +And from all this it appears that John was exceedingly young, as indeed +he was, in spite of his being nearly one and twenty years of age. But +doubtless if men were willing to confess their disappointments and +foolish, impetuous resolutions, many would be found who have done +likewise, being in years much older than John Short. Unfortunately for +human nature most men would rather confess to positive wrong-doing than +to any such youthful follies as these, while they are young; and when +they are old they would rather be thought young and foolish than confess +the evil deeds they have actually done. + +John, however, did not moralise upon his situation. The weather was again +fine and as he dressed his spirits rose. He became magnanimous and +resolved to forget yesterday and make the most of today. He would see +Mrs. Goddard of course; perhaps he would show her a little coldness at +first, giving her to understand that she had not treated him well on the +previous afternoon; then he would interest her by his talk--he would +repeat to her one of those unlucky odes and translate it for her benefit, +making use of the freedom he would thus get in order to make her an +unlimited number of graceful compliments. Perhaps, too, he ought to pay +more attention to Nellie, if he wished to conciliate her mother. Women, +he reflected, have such strange prejudices! + +He wondered whether it would be proper for him to call upon Mrs. Goddard. +He was not quite sure about it, and he was rather ashamed of having so +little knowledge of the world; but he believed that in Billingsfield he +might run the risk. There had been talk of skating again that morning, +and so, about ten o'clock, John told Mr. Ambrose he would go for a short +walk and then join them all at the pond in the park. The project seemed +good, and he put it into execution. As he walked up the frozen road, he +industriously repeated in his mind the Greek verses he was going to +translate to Mrs. Goddard; he had no copy of them but his memory was very +good. He met half a dozen labourers, strolling about with their pipes +until it was time to go and have a pint of beer, as is their manner upon +holidays; they touched their hats to him, remembering his face well, and +he smiled happily at the rough fellows, contrasting his situation with +theirs, who from the misfortune of social prejudice were not permitted to +go and call upon Mrs. Goddard. His heart beat rather fast as he went up +to the door of the cottage, and for one unpleasant moment he again +doubted whether it was proper for him to make such an early visit. But +being bent on romantic adventure he rang boldly and inquired for Mrs. +Goddard. + +She was surprised to see John at that hour and alone; but it did not +enter her head to refuse him admittance. Indeed as he stood in the little +passage he heard the words which passed between her and Martha. + +"What is it, Martha?" + +"It's a young gentleman, mam. I rather think, mam, it's the young +gentleman that's stopping at the vicarage." + +"Oh--ask him to come in." + +"In 'ere, mam?" + +"No--into the sitting-room," said Mrs. Goddard, who was busy in the +dining-room. + +John was accordingly ushered in and told to wait a minute; which he did, +surveying with surprise the beautiful pictures, the rich looking +furniture and the valuable objects that lay about upon the tables. He +experienced a thrill of pleasure, for he felt sure that Mrs. Goddard +possessed another qualification which he had unconsciously attributed to +her--that of being accustomed to a certain kind of luxury, which in +John's mind was mysteriously connected with his romance. It is one of the +most undefinable of the many indefinite feelings to which young men in +love are subject, especially young men who have been, or are, very poor. +They like to connect ideas of wealth and comfort, even of a luxurious +existence, with the object of their affections. They desire the world of +love to be new to them, and in order to be wholly new in their +experience, it must be rich. The feeling is not so wholly unworthy as it +might seem; they instinctively place their love upon a pedestal and +require its surroundings to be of a better kind than such as they have +been accustomed to in their own lives. King Cophetua, being a king, could +afford to love the beggar maid, and a very old song sings of a "lady who +loved a swine," but the names of the poor young men who have loved above +their fortune and station are innumerable as the swallows in spring. John +saw that Mrs. Goddard was much richer than he had ever been, and without +the smallest second thought was pleased. In a few moments she entered the +room. John had his speech ready. + +"I thought, if you were going to skate, I would call and ask leave to go +with you," he said glibly, as she gave him her hand. + +"Oh--thanks. But is not it rather early?" + +"It is twenty minutes past ten," said John, looking at the clock. + +"Well, let us get warm before starting," said Mrs. Goddard, sitting down +by the fire. "It is so cold this morning." + +John thought she was lovely to look at as she sat there, warming her +hands and shielding her face from the flame with them at the same time. +She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, but said nothing. She was still +a little surprised to see him and wondered whether he himself had +anything to say. + +"Yes," said John, "it is very cold--traditional Christmas weather. Could +not be finer, in fact, could it?" + +"No--it could not be finer," echoed Mrs. Goddard, suppressing a smile. +Then as though to help him out of his embarrassment by giving an impulse +to the conversation, she added, "By the bye, Mr. Short, while we are +warming ourselves why do not you let me hear one of your odes?" + +She meant it kindly, thinking it would give him pleasure, as indeed it +did. John's heart leaped and he blushed all over his face with delight. +Mrs. Goddard was not quite sure whether she had done right, but she +attributed his evident satisfaction to his vanity as a scholar. + +"Certainly," he said with alacrity, "if you would like to hear it. Would +you care to hear me repeat the Greek first?" + +"Oh, of all things. I do not think I have ever heard Greek." + +John cleared his throat and began, glancing at his hostess rather +nervously from time to time. But his memory never failed him, and he went +on to the end without a break or hesitation. + +"How do you think it sounds?" he asked timidly when he had finished. + +"It sounds very funny," said Mrs. Goddard. "I had no idea Greek sounded +like that--but it has a pleasant rhythm." + +"That is the thing," said John, enthusiastically. "I see you really +appreciate it. Of course nobody knows how the ancients pronounced Greek, +and if one pronounced it as the moderns do, it would sound all wrong--but +the rhythm is the thing, you know. It is impossible to get over that." + +Mrs. Goddard was not positively sure what he meant by "getting over the +rhythm;" possibly John himself could not have defined his meaning very +clearly. But his cheeks glowed and he was very much pleased. + +"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Goddard confidently. "But what does it all +mean, Mr. Short?" + +"Would you really like to know?" asked John in fresh embarrassment. He +suddenly realised how wonderfully delightful it was to be repeating his +own poetry to the woman for whom it was written. + +"Indeed yes--what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in +Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?" + +"Yes--you will promise not to be offended?" + +"Of course," said Mrs. Goddard; then blushing a little she added, "it is +quite--I mean--quite the sort of thing, is not it?" + +"Oh quite," said John, blushing too, but looking grave for a moment. Then +he repeated the English translation of the verses which, as they were +certainly not so good as the original, may be omitted here. They set +forth that in the vault of the world's night a new star had appeared +which men had not yet named, nor would be likely to name until the power +of human speech should be considerably increased, and the verses dwelt +upon the theme, turning it and revolving it in several ways, finally +declaring that the far-darting sun must look out for his interests unless +he meant to be outshone by the new star. Translated into English there +was nothing very remarkable about the performance though the original +Greek ode was undoubtedly very good of its kind. But Mrs. Goddard was +determined to be pleased. + +"I think it is charming," she said, when John had reached the end and +paused for her criticism. + +"The Greek is very much better," said John doubtfully. "I cannot write +English verses--they seem to me so much harder." + +"I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard. "But did you really write that +when--" she stopped not knowing exactly how to express herself. But +John had his answer ready. + +"Oh, I wrote ever so many," he said, "and I have got them all at +Cambridge. But that is the only one I quite remember. I wrote them just +after the day when I waked up Muggins--the only time I had seen you till +now. I think I could--" + +"How funny it seems," said Mrs. Goddard, "without knowing a person, to +write verses to them! How did you manage to do it?" + +"I was going to say that I think--I am quite sure--I could write much +better things to you now." + +"Oh, that is impossible--quite absurd, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, +laughing more gaily than usual. + +"Why?" asked John, somewhat emboldened by his success. "I do not see why, +if one has an ideal, you know, one should not understand it much better +when one comes near to it." + +"Yes--but--how can I possibly be your ideal?" She felt herself so much +older than John that she thought it was out of the question to be +annoyed; so she treated him in a matter of fact way, and was really +amused at his talk. + +"I don't see why not," answered John stoutly. "You might be any man's +ideal." + +"Oh, really--" ejaculated Mrs. Goddard, somewhat startled at the force of +the sweeping compliment. To be told point-blank, even by an enthusiastic +youth of one and twenty, that one is the ideal woman, must be either very +pleasant or very startling. + +"Excuse me," she said quickly, before he could answer her, "you know of +course I am very ignorant--yes I am--but will you please tell me what is +an 'ideal'?" + +"Why--yes," said John, "it is very easy. Ideal comes from idea. Plato +meant, by the idea, the perfect model--well, do you see?" + +"Not exactly," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"It is very simple. When I, when anybody, says you are the ideal woman, +it is meant that you are the perfect model, the archetype of a woman." + +"Yes--but that is absurd," said his companion rather coldly. + +"I am sorry that it should seem absurd," said John in a persuasive tone; +"it seems very natural to me. A man thinks for a long time about +everything that most attracts him and then, on a sudden, he sees it all +before him, quite real and alive, and then he says he has realised his +ideal. But you liked the verses, Mrs. Goddard?" he added quickly, hoping +to bring back the smile that had vanished from her face. He had a strong +impression that he had been a little too familiar. Probably Mrs. Goddard +thought so too. + +"Oh yes, I think they are very nice," she answered. But the smile did not +come back. She was not displeased, but she was not pleased either; she +was wondering how far this boy would go if she would let him. John, +however, felt unpleasantly doubtful about what he had done. + +"I hope you are not displeased," he said. + +"Oh, not in the least," said she. "Shall we go to the park and skate?" + +"I am not sure that I will skate to-day," said John, foolishly. Mrs. +Goddard looked at him in unfeigned surprise. + +"Why not? I thought it was for that--" + +"Oh, of course," said John quickly. "Only it is not very amusing to skate +when Mr. Juxon is pushing you about in a chair." + +"Really--why should not he push me about, if I like it?" + +"If you like it--that is different," answered John impatiently. + +Mrs. Goddard began to think that John was very like a spoiled child, and +she resented his evident wish to monopolise her society. She left the +room to get ready for the walk, vaguely wishing that he had not come. + +"I have made a fool of myself again," said John to himself, when he was +left alone; and he suddenly wished he could get out of the house without +seeing her again. But before he had done wishing, she returned. + +"Where is Miss Nellie?" he asked gloomily, as they walked down the path. +"I hope she is coming too." + +"She went up to the pond with Mr. Juxon, just before you came." + +"Do you let her go about like that, without you?" asked John severely. + +"Why not? Really, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, glancing up at his face, +"either you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a +good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--" + +She was naturally a little timid, but John's youth and what she +considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to +protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous. + +"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are +quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest +reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal +antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me." + +"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows +nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They +were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind +that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch. + +"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he +said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom. + +"Nor I," said Mrs. Goddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back +for her to pass. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there +was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it +for themselves. Mrs. Goddard was so much amused at John's absence of mind +that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was +attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that +had darkened the horizon of his romance had passed quickly away, and once +more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life. +If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his +imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. Goddard's chair upon the +ice, he mentally ejaculated "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the +previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park +was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. Goddard did not seem to be +in a hurry. + +"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently. + +"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the +year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will +very soon be alive again." + +"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of +it." + +"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not +you?" + +"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently. +Mrs. Goddard could not resist the temptation of teazing him a little. +They had grown very intimate in forty-eight hours; it had taken six +months for Mr. Juxon to reach the point John had won in two days. + +"Are they?" she asked quietly. "Is that the reason you selected me for +the 'idea' of your ode, which you explained to me?" + +"You?" said John in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Why, you are not any +older than I am!" + +"Do you think so?" she inquired with a demure smile. "I am very much +older than you think." + +"You must be--I mean, you know, you must be older than you look." + +"Thank you," said Mrs. Goddard, still smiling, and just resting the tips +of her fingers upon his arm as she stepped across a slippery place in the +frozen road. "Yes, I am a great deal older than you." + +John would have liked very much to ask her age, but even to his youthful +and unsophisticated mind such a question seemed almost too personal. He +did not really believe that she was more than five years older than he, +and that seemed to be no difference at all. + +"I don't know," he said. "I am nearly one and twenty." + +"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Goddard, who had heard every detail concerning +John from Mr. Ambrose, again and again. "Just think," she added with a +laugh, "only one and twenty! Why when I was one and twenty I was--" she +stopped short. + +"What were you doing then?" asked John, trying not to seem too curious. + +"I was living in London," she said quietly. She half enjoyed his +disappointment. + +"Yes," he said, "I daresay. But what--well, I suppose I ought not to ask +any questions." + +"Certainly not," said she. "It is very rude to ask a lady questions about +her age." + +"I do not mean to be rude again," said John, pretending to laugh. "Have +you always been fond of skating?" he asked, fixing his eye upon a distant +tree, and trying to look unconscious. + +"No--I only learned since I came here. Besides, I skate very badly." + +"Did Mr. Juxon teach you?" asked John, still gazing into the distance. +From not looking at the path he slipped on a frozen puddle and nearly +fell. Whereat, as usual, when he did anything awkward, he blushed to the +brim of his hat. + +"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. "You will fall if you don't look +where you are going. No; Mr. Juxon was not here last year. He only came +here in the summer." + +"It seems to me that he has always been here," said John, trying to +recover his equanimity. "Then I suppose Mr. Ambrose taught you to skate?" + +"Exactly--Mr. Ambrose taught me. He skates very well." + +"So will you, with a little more practice," answered her companion in a +rather patronising tone. He intended perhaps to convey the idea that Mrs. +Goddard would improve in the exercise if she would actually skate, and +with him, instead of submitting to be pushed about in a chair by Mr. +Juxon. + +"Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard indifferently. "We shall soon be +there, now. I can hear them on the ice." + +"Too soon," said John with regret. + +"I thought you liked skating so much." + +"I like walking with you much better," he replied, and he glanced at her +face to see if his speech produced any sign of sympathy. + +"You have walked with me; now you can skate with Nellie," suggested Mrs. +Goddard. + +"You talk as though I were a child," said John, suddenly losing his +temper in a very unaccountable way. + +"Because I said you might skate with Nellie? Really, I don't see why. Mr. +Juxon is not a child, and he has been skating with her all the morning." + +"That is different," retorted John growing very red. + +"Yes--Nellie is much nearer to your age than to Mr. Juxon's," answered +Mrs. Goddard, with a calmness which made John desperate. + +"Really, Mrs. Goddard," he said stiffly, "I cannot see what that has to +do with it." + +"'The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the lady so much older +than myself has charged--' How does the quotation end, Mr. Short?" + +"'Has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither +attempt to palliate nor deny,'" said John savagely. "Quite so, Mrs. +Goddard. I shall not attempt to palliate it, nor will I venture to deny +it." + +"Then why in the world are you so angry with me?" she asked, suddenly +turning her violet eyes upon him. "I was only laughing, you know." + +"Only laughing!" repeated John. "It is more pleasant to laugh than to be +laughed at." + +"Yes--would not you allow me the pleasure then, just for once?" + +"Certainly, if you desire it. You are so extremely merry--" + +"Come, Mr. Short, we must not seem to have been quarrelling when we reach +the pond. It would be too ridiculous." + +"Everything seems to strike you in a humorous light to-day," answered +John, beginning to be pacified by her tone. + +"Do you know, you are much more interesting when you are angry," said +Mrs. Goddard. + +"And you only made me angry in order to see whether I was interesting?" + +"Perhaps--but then, I could not help it in the least." + +"I trust you are thoroughly satisfied upon the point, Mrs. Goddard? If +there is anything more that I can do to facilitate your researches in +psychology--" + +"You would help me? Even to the extent of being angry again?" She smiled +so pleasantly and frankly that John's wrath vanished. + +"It is impossible to be angry with you. I am very sorry if I seemed to +be," he answered. "A man who has the good fortune to be thrown into your +society is a fool to waste his time in being disagreeable." + +"I agree with the conclusion, at all events--that is, it is much better +to be agreeable. Is it not? Let us be friends." + +"Oh, by all means," said John. + +They walked on for some minutes in silence. John reflected that he had +witnessed a phase of Mrs. Goddard's character of which he had been very +far from suspecting the existence. He had not hitherto imagined her to be +a woman of quick temper or sharp speech. His idea of her was formed +chiefly upon her appearance. Her sad face, with its pathetic expression, +suggested a melancholy humour delighting in subdued and tranquil +thoughts, inclined naturally to the romantic view, or to what in the eyes +of youths of twenty appears to be the romantic view of life. He had +suddenly found her answering him with a sharpness which, while it roused +his wits, startled his sensibilities. But he was flattered as well. His +instinct and his observation of Mrs. Goddard when in the society of +others led him to believe that with Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, or even with +Mr. Juxon, she was not in the habit of talking as she talked with him. He +was therefore inwardly pleased, so soon as his passing annoyance had +subsided, to feel that she made a difference between him and others. + +It was quite true that she made a distinction, though she did so almost +unconsciously. It was perfectly natural, too. She was young in heart, in +spite of her thirty years and her troubles; she had an elastic +temperament; to a physiognomist her face would have shown a delicate +sensitiveness to impressions rather than any inborn tendency to sadness. +In spite of everything she was still young, and for two years and a half +she had been in the society of persons much older than herself, persons +she respected and regarded as friends, but persons in whom her youth +found no sympathy. It was natural, therefore, that when time to some +extent had healed the wound she had suffered and she suddenly found +herself in the society of a young and enthusiastic man, something of the +enforced soberness of her manner should unbend, showing her character in +a new light. She herself enjoyed the change, hardly knowing why; she +enjoyed a little passage of arms with John, and it amused her more than +she could have expected to be young again, to annoy him, to break the +peace and heal it again in five minutes. But what happened entirely +failed to amuse the squire, who did not regard such diversions as +harmless; and moreover she was far from expecting the effect which her +treatment of John Short produced upon his scholarly but enthusiastic +temper. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The squire had remarked that John Short seemed to have a peculiar temper, +and Mrs. Goddard had observed the same thing. What has gone before +sufficiently explains the change in John's manner, and the difference in +his behaviour was plainly apparent even to Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose. The +vicar indeed was wise enough to see that John was very much attracted by +Mrs. Goddard, but he was also wise enough to say nothing about it. His +wife, however, who had witnessed no love-making for nearly thirty years, +except the courtship of the young physician who had married her daughter, +attributed John's demeanour to no such disturbing cause. He was +overworked, she said; he was therefore irritable; he had of course never +taken that excellent homoeopathic remedy, highly diluted aconite, since +he had left the vicarage; the consequence was that he was subject to +nervous headache--she only hoped he would not be taken ill on the eve of +the examination for honours. She hoped, too, that he would prolong his +holiday to the very last moment, for the country air and the rest he +enjoyed were sure to do him so much good. With regard, to the extension +of John's visit, the vicar thought differently, although he held his +peace. There were many reasons why John should not become attached to +Mrs. Goddard both for her sake and his own, and if he staid long, the +vicar felt quite sure that he would fall in love with her. She was +dangerously pretty, she was much older than John--which in the case of +very young men constitutes an additional probability--she evidently took +an innocent pleasure in his society, and altogether such a complication +as was likely to ensue was highly undesirable. Therefore, when Mrs. +Ambrose pressed John to stay longer than he had intended, the vicar not +only gave him no encouragement, but spoke gravely of the near approach of +the contest for honours, of the necessity of concentrating every force +for the coming struggle, and expressed at the same time the firm +conviction that, if John did his best, he ought to be the senior classic +in the year. + +Even Mrs. Goddard urged him to go. Of course he asked her advice. He +would not have lost that opportunity of making her speak of himself, nor +of gauging the exact extent of the interest he hoped she felt in him. + +It was two or three days after the long conversation he had enjoyed with +her. In that time they had met often and John's admiration for her, +strengthened by his own romantic desire to be really in love, had begun +to assume proportions which startled Mrs. Goddard and annoyed Mr. Juxon. +The latter felt that the boy was in his way; whenever he wanted to see +Mrs. Goddard, John was at her side, talking eagerly and contesting his +position against the squire with a fierceness which in an older and wiser +man would have been in the worst possible taste. Even as it was, Mr. +Juxon looked considerably annoyed as he stood by, smoothing his smooth +hair from time to time with his large white hand and feeling that even at +his age, and with his experience, a man might sometimes cut a poor +figure. + +On the particular occasion when the relations between John and the squire +became an object of comment to Mrs. Ambrose, the whole party were +assembled at Mrs. Goddard's cottage. She had invited everybody to tea, a +meal which in her little household represented a compromise between her +appetite and Nellie's. She had felt that in the small festivities of the +Billingsfield Christmas season she was called upon to do her share with +the rest and, being a simple woman, she took her part simply, and did not +dignify the entertainment of her four friends by calling it a dinner. The +occasion was none the less hospitable, for she gave both time and thought +to her preparations. Especially she had considered the question of +precedence; it was doubtful, she thought, whether the squire or the vicar +should sit upon her right hand. The squire, as being lord of the manor, +represented the powers temporal, the vicar on the other hand represented +the church, which on ordinary occasions takes precedence of the lay +faculty. She had at last privately consulted Mr. Juxon, in whom she had +the greatest confidence, asking him frankly which she should do, and Mr. +Juxon had unhesitatingly yielded the post of honour to the vicar, adding +to enforce his opinion the very plausible argument that if he, the +squire, took Mrs. Goddard in to tea, the vicar would have to give his arm +either to little Nellie or to his own wife. Mrs. Goddard was convinced +and the affair was a complete success. + +John felt that he could not complain of his position, but as he was +separated from the object of his admiration during the whole meal, he +resolved to indemnify himself for his sufferings by monopolising her +conversation during the rest of the evening. The squire on the other +hand, who had been obliged to talk to Mrs. Ambrose during most of the +time while they were at table, and who, moreover, was beginning to feel +that he had seen almost enough of John Short, determined to give the +young man a lesson in the art of interesting women in general and Mrs. +Goddard in particular. She, indeed, would not have been a woman at all +had she not understood the two men and their intentions. After tea the +party congregated round the fire in the little drawing-room, standing in +a circle, of which their hostess formed the centre. Mr. Juxon and John, +anticipating that Mrs. Goddard must ultimately sit upon one side or other +of the fireplace had at first chosen opposite sides, each hoping that she +would take the chair nearest to himself. But Mrs. Goddard remained +standing an unreasonably long time, for the very reason that she did not +choose to sit beside either of them. Seeing this the squire, who had +perhaps a greater experience than his adversary in this kind of strategic +warfare, left his place and put himself on the same side as John. He +argued that Mrs. Goddard would probably then choose the opposite side, +whereas John who was younger would think she would come towards the two +where they stood; John would consequently lose time, Mr. Juxon would +cross again and install himself by her side while his enemy was +hesitating. + +While these moves and counter-moves were proceeding, the conversation was +general. The vicar was for the hundredth time admiring the Andrea del +Sarto over the chimney-piece and his wife was explaining her general +objections to the representation of sacred subjects upon canvas, while +Mrs. Goddard answered each in turn and endeavoured to disagree with +neither. What the squire had foreseen when he made his last move, +however, actually took place at last. Mrs. Goddard established herself +upon the side opposite the two men. Mr. Juxon crossed rapidly to where +she was seated, and Mrs. Ambrose, who had turned with the intention of +speaking to the squire, found herself confronted by John. He saw that he +had been worsted by his foe and immediately lost his temper; but being +brought face to face with Mrs. Ambrose was obliged to control it as he +might. That excellent lady beamed upon him with a maternal smile of the +kind which is peculiarly irritating to young men. He struggled to get +away however, glancing over Mrs. Ambrose's shoulder at the squire and +longing to be "at him" as he would have expressed it. But the squire was +not to be got at so easily, for the vicar's wife was of a fine presence +and covered much ground. John involuntarily thought of the dyke before +Troy, of Hector and his heroes attempting to storm it and of the Ajaces +and Sarpedon defending it and glaring down from above. He could +appreciate Hector's feelings--Mrs. Ambrose was very like the dyke. + +The squire smiled serenely and smoothed his hair as he talked to Mrs. +Goddard and she herself looked by no means discontented, thereby adding, +as it were, an insult to the injury done to John. + +"I shall always envy you the cottage," the squire was saying. "I have not +a single room in the Hall that is half so cheery in the evening." + +"I shall never forget my terror when we first met," answered Mrs. +Goddard, "do you remember? You frightened me by saying you would like to +live here. I thought you meant it." + +"You must have thought I was the most unmannerly of barbarians." + +"Instead of being the best of landlords," added Mrs. Goddard with a +grateful smile. + +"I hardly know whether I am that," said Mr. Juxon, settling himself in +his chair. "But I believe I am by nature an exceedingly comfortable man, +and I never fail to consult the interests of my comfort." + +"And of mine. Think of all you have done to improve this place. I can +never thank you enough. I suppose one always feels particularly grateful +at Christmas time--does not one?" + +"One has more to be grateful for, it seems to me--in our climate, too. +People in southern countries never really know what comfort means, +because nature never makes them thoroughly uncomfortable. Only a man who +is freezing can appreciate a good fire." + +"I suppose you have been a good deal in such places," suggested Mrs. +Goddard, vaguely. + +"Oh yes--everywhere," answered the squire with equal indefiniteness. "By +the bye, talking of travelling, when is our young friend going away?" +There was not a shade of ill-humour in the question. + +"The day after New Year's--I believe." + +"He has had a very pleasant visit." + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Goddard, "I hope it will do him a great deal of +good." + +"Why? Was he ill? Ah--I remember, they said he had worked too hard. It is +a great mistake to work too hard, especially when one is very young." + +"He is very young, is not he?" remarked Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, +remembering the many conversations she had had with him. + +"Very. Did it ever strike you that--well, that he was losing his head a +little?" + +"No," answered his companion innocently. "What about?" + +"Oh, nothing. Only he has rather a peculiar temper. He is perpetually +getting very angry with no ostensible reason--and then he glares at one +like an angry cat." + +"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, "he might hear you." + +"Do him good," said the squire cheerfully. + +"Oh, no! It would hurt his feelings dreadfully. How can you be so +unkind?" + +"He is a very good boy, you know. Really, I believe he is. Only he is +inclined to be rather too unreasonable; I should think he might be +satisfied." + +"Satisfied with what?" inquired Mrs. Goddard, who did not wish to +understand. + +"With the way you have treated him," returned the squire bluntly. "You +have been wonderfully good to him." + +"Have I?" The faint colour rose to her cheek. "I don't know--poor fellow! +I daresay his life at Cambridge is very dull." + +"Yes. Entirely devoid of that species of amusement which he has enjoyed +so abundantly in Billingsfield. It is not every undergraduate who has a +chance to talk to you for a week at a time." + +Mr. Juxon made the remark very calmly, without seeming to be in the least +annoyed. He was much too wise a man to appear to be displeased at Mrs. +Goddard's treatment of John. Moreover, he felt that on the present +occasion, at least, John had been summarily worsted; it was his turn to +be magnanimous. + +"If you are going to make compliments, I will go away," said Mrs. +Goddard. + +"I? I never made a compliment in my life," replied the squire +complacently. "Do you think it is a compliment to tell you that Mr. Short +probably enjoys your conversation much more than the study of Greek +roots?" + +"Well--not exactly--" + +"Besides, in general," continued the squire, "compliments are mere waste +of breath. If a woman has any vanity she knows her own good points much +better than any man who attempts to explain them to her; and if she has +no vanity, no amount of explanation of her merits will make her see them +in a proper light." + +"That is very true," answered Mrs. Goddard, thoughtfully. "It never +struck me before. I wonder whether that is the reason women always like +men who never make any compliments at all?" + +The squire's face assumed an amusing expression of inquiry and surprise. + +"Is that personal?" he asked. + +"Oh--of course not," answered Mrs. Goddard in some confusion. She blushed +and turning towards the fire took up the poker and pretended to stir the +coals. Women always delight in knocking a good fire to pieces, out of +pure absence of mind. John Short saw the movement and, escaping suddenly +from the maternal conversation of Mrs. Ambrose, threw himself upon his +knee on the hearth-rug and tried to take the poker from his hostess's +hand. + +"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, don't! Let me do it--please!" he exclaimed. + +"But I can do it very well myself," said she protesting and not relaxing +her hold upon the poker. But John was obstinate in his determination to +save her trouble, and rudely tried to get the instrument away. + +"Please don't--you hurt me," said Mrs. Goddard petulantly. + +"Oh--I beg your pardon--I wanted to help you," said John leaving his +hold. "I did not really hurt you--did I?" he asked, almost tenderly. + +"Dreadfully," replied Mrs. Goddard, half angry and half amused at his +impatience and subsequent contrition. The squire sat complacently in his +chair, watching the little scene. John hated him more than ever, and grew +very red. Mrs. Goddard saw the boy's embarrassment and presently +relented. + +"I daresay you will do it better than I," she said, handing him the +poker, which John seized with alacrity. "That big coal--there," she +added, pointing to a smouldering block in the corner of the grate. + +"I did not mean to be rude," said John. "I only wanted to help you." He +knelt by her side poking the fire industriously. "I only wanted to get a +chance to talk to you," he added, in a low voice, barely audible to Mrs. +Goddard as she leaned forward. + +"I am afraid you cannot do that just now," she said, not unkindly, but +with the least shade of severity in her tone. "You will get dreadfully +hot if you stay there, so near the fire." + +"I don't mind the heat in the least," said John heroically. Nevertheless +as she did not give him any further encouragement he was presently +obliged to retire, greatly discomfited. He could not spend the evening on +his knees with the poker in his hand. + +"Bad failure," remarked the squire in an undertone as soon as John had +rejoined Mrs. Ambrose, who had not quite finished her lecture on +homoeopathy. + +Mrs. Goddard leaned back in her chair and looked at Mr. Juxon rather +coolly. She did not want him to laugh at John, though she was not willing +to encourage John herself. + +"You should not be unkind," she said. "He is such a nice boy--why should +you wish him to be uncomfortable?" + +"Oh, I don't in the least. I could not help being amused a little. I am +sure I don't want to be unkind." + +Indeed the squire had not shown himself to be so, on the whole, and he +did not refer to the matter again during the evening. He kept his place +for some time by Mrs. Goddard's side and then, judging that he had +sufficiently asserted his superiority, rose and talked to Mrs. Ambrose. +But John, being now in a thoroughly bad humour, could not take his vacant +seat with a good grace. He stood aloof and took up a book that lay upon +the table and avoided looking at Mrs. Goddard. By and by, when the party +broke up, he said good-night in such a particularly cold and formal tone +of voice that she stared at him in surprise. But he took no notice of her +look and went away after the Ambroses, in that state of mind which boys +call a huff. + +But on the following day John repented of his behaviour. All day long he +wandered about the garden of the vicarage, excusing himself from joining +the daily skating which formed the staple of amusement during the +Christmas week, by saying that he had an idea for a copy of verses and +must needs work it out. But he inwardly hoped that Mrs. Goddard would +come to the vicarage late in the afternoon, without the inevitable Mr. +Juxon, and that he might then get a chance of talking to her. He was not +quite sure what he should say. He would find words on the spur of the +moment; it would at all events be much easier than to meet her on the ice +at the Hall with all the rest of them and to see Mr. Juxon pushing her +about in that detestable chair, with the unruffled air of superiority +which John so hated to see upon his face. The vicar suspected more than +ever that there was something wrong; he had seen some of the by-play on +the previous evening, and had noticed John's ill-concealed disappointment +at being unable to dislodge the sturdy squire from his seat. But Mrs. +Ambrose seemed to be very obtuse, and the vicar would have been the last +to have spoken of his suspicions, even to the wife of his bosom. It was +his duty to induce John to go back to his work at the end of the week; it +was not his duty to put imputations upon him which Mrs. Ambrose would +naturally exaggerate and which would drive her excellent heart into a +terrible state of nervous anxiety. + +But Mrs. Goddard did not come back to the vicarage on that day, and John +went to dinner with a sad heart. It did not seem like a day at all if he +had not seen her and talked with her. He had now no doubt whatever that +he was seriously in love, and he set himself to consider his position. +The more he considered it, the more irreconcilable it seemed to be with +the passion which beset him. A child could see that for several years, at +least, he would not be in a position to marry. With Mr. Juxon at hand +from year's end to year's end, the owner of the Hall, of the +Billingsfield property and according to all appearances of other +resources besides,--with such a man constantly devoted to her, could Mrs. +Goddard be expected to wait for poor John three years, even two years, +from the time of the examination for the classical Tripos? Nothing was +more improbable, he was forced to admit. And yet, the idea of life if he +did not marry Mrs. Goddard was dismal beyond all expression; he would +probably not survive it. He did not know what he should do. He shrank +from the thought of declaring his love to her at once. He remembered with +pain that she had a terrible way of laughing at him when he grew +confidential or too complimentary, and he dreaded lest at the supreme +moment of his life he should appear ridiculous in her eyes--he, a mere +undergraduate. If he came out at the head of the Tripos it would be +different; and yet that seemed so long to wait, especially while Mr. +Juxon lived at the Hall and Mrs. Goddard lived at the park gates. +Suddenly a thought struck him which filled him with delight; it was just +possible that Mr. Juxon had no intention of marrying Mrs. Goddard. If he +had any such views he would probably have declared them before now, for +he had met her every day during more than half a year. John longed to ask +some one the question. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose, who might be supposed to know +everything connected with Mrs. Goddard, could tell him. He felt very +nervous at the idea of speaking to the vicar on the subject, and yet it +seemed to him that no one else could set his mind at rest. If he were +quite certain that Mr. Juxon had no intention of offering himself to the +charming tenant of the cottage, he might return to his work with some +sense of security in the future. Otherwise he saw only the desperate +alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved +her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of +hearing any day that she had married the squire. To be laughed at would +be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle, +would be awful. No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth; +it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done. Having at +last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of +dinner, his spirits rose a little. He took another glass of the vicar's +mild ale and felt that he could face his fate. + +"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr. Ambrose?" he said as they +rose from table. + +"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the +drawing-room, he returned to find John. There was a low, smouldering fire +in the study grate, and John had lit a solitary candle. The room looked +very dark and dismal and John was seated in one of the black leather +chairs, waiting. + +"Anything about those verses you were speaking of to-day?" asked the +vicar cheerfully, in anticipation of a pleasant classical chat. + +"No," said John, gloomily. "The fact is--" he cleared his throat, "the +fact is, I want to ask you rather a delicate question, sir." + +The vicar's heavy eyebrows contracted; the lines of his face all turned +downwards, and his long, clean-shaved upper lip closed sharply upon its +fellow, like a steel trap. He turned his grey eyes upon John's averted +face with a searching look. + +"Have you got into any trouble at Trinity, John?" he asked severely. + +"Oh no--no indeed," said John. Nothing was further from his thoughts than +his college at that moment. "I want to ask you a question, which no one +else can answer. Is--do you think that--that Mr. Juxon has any idea of +marrying Mrs. Goddard?" + +The vicar started in astonishment and laid both hands upon the arms of +his chair. + +"What--in the world--put that--into your head?" he asked very slowly, +emphasising every word of his question. John was prepared to see his old +tutor astonished but was rather taken aback at the vicar's tone. + +"Do you think it is likely, sir?" he insisted. + +"Certainly not," answered the vicar, still eyeing him suspiciously. +"Certainly not. I have positive reasons to prove the contrary. But, my +dear John, why, in the name of all that is sensible, do you ask me such a +question? You don't seriously think of proposing--" + +"I don't see why I should not," said John doggedly, seeing that he was +found out. + +"You don't see why you should not? Why the thing is perfectly absurd, not +to say utterly impossible! John, you are certainly mad." + +"I don't see why," repeated John. "I am a grown man. I have good +prospects--" + +"Good prospects!" ejaculated the vicar in horror. "Good prospects! Why, +you are only an undergraduate at Cambridge." + +"I may be senior classic in a few months," objected John. "That is not +such a bad prospect, it seems to me." + +"It means that you may get a fellowship, probably will--in the course of +a few years. But you lose it if you marry. Besides--do you know that Mrs. +Goddard is ten years older than you, and more?" + +"Impossible," said John in a tone of conviction. + +"I know that she is. She will be two and thirty on her next birthday, and +you are not yet one and twenty." + +"I shall be next month," argued John, who was somewhat taken aback, +however, by the alarming news of Mrs. Goddard's age. "Besides, I can go +into the church, before I get a fellowship--" + +"No, you can't," said the vicar energetically. "You won't be able to +manage it. If you do, you will have to put up with a poor living." + +"That would not matter. Mrs. Goddard has something--" + +"An honourable prospect!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, growing more and more +excited. "To marry a woman ten years older than yourself because she has +a little money of her own! You! I would not have thought it of you, +John--indeed I would not!" + +Indeed no one was more surprised than John Short himself, when he found +himself arguing the possibilities of his marriage with his old tutor. But +he was an obstinate young fellow enough and was not inclined to give up +the fight easily. + +"Really," he objected, "I cannot see anything so very terrible in the +idea. I shall certainly make my way in the world. You know that it is not +for the sake of her money. Many men have married women ten years older +than themselves, and not half so beautiful and charming, I am sure." + +"I don't believe it," said the vicar, "and if they have, why it has been +very different, that is all. Besides, you have not known Mrs. Goddard a +week--positively not more than five days--why, it is madness! Do you mean +to tell me that at the end of five days you believe you are seriously +attached to a lady you never saw in your life before?" + +"I saw her once," said John. "That day when I waked Muggins--" + +"Once! Nearly three years ago! I have no patience with you, John! That a +young fellow of your capabilities should give way to such a boyish fancy! +It is absolutely amazing! I thought you were growing to like her society +very much, but I did not believe it would, come to this!" + +"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said John stoutly. + +"It is something to be afraid of," answered the vicar. + +"Oh, do not be alarmed," retorted John. "I will do nothing rash. You have +set my mind at rest in assuring me that she will not marry Mr. Juxon. I +shall not think of offering myself to Mrs. Goddard until after the +Tripos." + +"Offering myself"--how deliciously important the expression sounded to +John's own ears! It conveyed such a delightful sense of the possibilities +of life when at last he should feel that he was in a position to offer +himself to any woman, especially to Mrs. Goddard. + +"I have a great mind not to ask you to come down, even if you do turn out +senior classic," said the vicar, still fuming with excitement. "But if +you put off your rash action until then, you will probably have changed +your mind." + +"I will never change my mind," said John confidently. It was evident, +nevertheless, that if the romance of his life were left to the tender +mercies of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, it was likely to come to an +abrupt termination. When the two returned to the society of Mrs. Ambrose, +the vicar was still very much agitated and John was plunged in a gloomy +melancholy. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The vicar's suspicions were more than realized and he passed an +uncomfortable day after his interview with John, in debating what he +ought to do, whether he ought to do anything at all, or whether he should +merely hasten his old pupil's departure and leave matters to take care of +themselves. He was a very conscientious man, and he felt that he was +responsible for John's conduct towards Mrs. Goddard, seeing that she had +put herself under his protection, and that John was almost like one of +his family. His first impulse was to ask counsel of his wife, but he +rejected the plan, reflecting with great justice that she was very fond +of John and had at first not been sure of liking Mrs. Goddard; she would +be capable of thinking that the latter had "led Short on," as she would +probably say. The vicar did not believe this, and was therefore loath +that any one else should. He felt that circumstances had made him Mrs. +Goddard's protector, and he was moreover personally attached to her; he +would not therefore do or say anything whereby she was likely to +appear to any one else in an unfavourable light. It was incredible that +she should have given John any real encouragement. Mr. Ambrose wondered +whether he ought to warn her of his pupil's madness. But when he thought +about that, it seemed unnecessary. It was unlikely that John would betray +himself during his present visit, since the vicar had solemnly assured +him that there was no possibility of a marriage so far as Mr. Juxon was +concerned. It was undoubtedly a very uncomfortable situation but there +was evidently nothing to be done; Mr. Ambrose felt that to speak to Mrs. +Goddard would be to precipitate matters in a way which could not but +cause much humiliation to John Short and much annoyance to herself. He +accordingly held his peace, but his upper lip set itself stiffly and his +eyes had a combative expression which told his wife that there was +something the matter. + +After breakfast John went out, on pretence of walking in the garden, and +Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were left alone. The latter, as usual after the +morning meal, busied herself about the room, searching out those secret +corners which she suspected Susan of having forgotten to dust. The vicar +stood looking out of the window. The weather was grey and it seemed +likely that there would be a thaw which would spoil the skating. + +"I think," said Mrs. Ambrose, "that John is far from well." + +"What makes you say that?" inquired the vicar, who was thinking of him at +that very moment. + +"Anybody might see it. He has no appetite--he ate nothing at breakfast +this morning. He looks pale. My dear, that boy will certainly break +down." + +"I don't believe it," answered Mr. Ambrose still looking out of the +window. His hands were in his pockets, thrusting the skirts of his +clerical coat to right and left; he slowly raised himself upon his toes +and let himself down again, repeating the operation as though it helped +him to think. + +"That is the way you spoil all your coats, Augustin," said his wife +looking at him from behind. "I assure you, my dear, that boy is not well. +Poor fellow, all alone at college with nobody to look after him--" + +"We have all had to go through that. I do not think it hurts him a bit," +said the vicar, slowly removing his hands from his pockets in deference +to his wife's suggestion. + +"Then what is it, I would like to know? There is certainly something the +matter. Now I ask you whether he looks like himself?" + +"Perhaps he does look a little tired." + +"Tired! There is something on his mind, Augustin. I am positively certain +there is something on his mind. Why won't you tell me?" + +"My dear--" began the vicar, and then stopped short. He was a very +truthful man, and as he knew very well what was the matter with John he +was embarrassed to find an answer. "My dear," he repeated, "I do not +think he is ill." + +"Then I am right," retorted Mrs. Ambrose, triumphantly. "It is just as I +thought, there is something on his mind. Don't deny it, Augustin; there +is something on his mind." + +Mr. Ambrose was silent; he glared fiercely at the window panes. + +"Why don't you tell me?" insisted his better half. "I am quite sure you +know all about it. Augustin, do you know, or do you not?" + +Thus directly questioned the vicar turned sharply round, sweeping the +window with his coat tails. + +"My dear," he said, shortly, "I do know. Can you not imagine that it may +be a matter which John does not care to have mentioned?" + +Mrs. Ambrose grew red with annoyance. She had set her heart on finding +out what had disturbed John, and the vicar had apparently made up his +mind that she should not succeed. Such occurrences were very rare between +that happy couple. + +"I cannot believe he has done anything wrong," said Mrs. Ambrose. +"Anything which need be concealed from me--the interest I have always +taken--" + +"He has not done anything wrong," said the vicar impatiently. "I do wish +you would drop the subject--" + +"Then why should it be concealed from me?" objected his wife with +admirable logic. "If it is anything good he need not hide his light under +a bushel, I should think." + +"There are plenty of things which are neither bad nor good," argued the +vicar, who felt that if he could draw Mrs. Ambrose into a Socratic +discussion he was safe. + +"That is a distinct prevarication, Augustin," said she severely. "I am +surprised at you." + +"Not at all," retorted the vicar. "What has occurred to John is not owing +to any fault of his." In his own mind the good man excused himself by +saying that John could not have helped falling in love with Mrs. Goddard. +But his wife turned quickly upon him. + +"That does not prevent what has occurred to him, as you call it, from +being good, or more likely bad, to judge from his looks." + +"My dear," said Mr. Ambrose, driven to bay, "I entirely decline to +discuss the point." + +"I thought you trusted me, Augustin." + +"So I do--certainly--and I always consult you about my own affairs." + +"I think I have as much right to know about John as you have," retorted +his wife, who seemed deeply hurt. + +"That is a point then which you ought to settle with John," said the +vicar. "I cannot betray his confidence, even to you." + +"Oh--then he has been making confidences to you?" + +"How in the world should I know about his affairs unless he told me?" + +"One may see a great many things without being told about them, you +know," answered Mrs. Ambrose, assuming a prim expression as she examined +a small spot in the tablecloth. The vicar was walking up and down the +room. Her speech, which was made quite at random, startled him. She, too, +might easily have observed John's manner when he was with Mrs. Goddard; +she might have guessed the secret, and have put her own interpretation on +John's sudden melancholy. + +"What may one see?" asked the vicar quickly. + +"I did not say one could see anything," answered his wife. "But from your +manner I infer that there really is something to see. Wait a minute--what +can it be?" + +"Nothing--my dear, nothing," said the vicar desperately. + +"Oh, Augustin, I know you so well," said the implacable Mrs. Ambrose. "I +am quite sure now, that it is something I have seen. Deny it, my dear." + +The vicar was silent and bit his long upper lip as he marched up and down +the room. + +"Of course--you cannot deny it," she continued. "It is perfectly clear. +The very first day he arrived--when you came down from the Hall, in the +evening--Augustin, I have got it! It is Mrs. Goddard--now don't tell me +it is not. I am quite sure it is Mrs. Goddard. How stupid of me! Is it +not Mrs. Goddard?" + +"If you are so positive," said the vicar, resorting to a form of defence +generally learned in the nursery, "why do you ask me?" + +"I insist upon knowing, Augustin, is it, or is it not, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"My dear, I positively refuse to answer any more questions," said the +vicar with tardy firmness. + +"Oh, it is no matter," retorted Mrs. Ambrose in complete triumph, "if it +were not Mrs. Goddard of course you would say so at once." + +A form of argument so unanswerable, that the vicar hastily left the room +feeling that he had basely betrayed John's confidence, and muttering +something about intolerable curiosity. Mrs. Ambrose had vanquished her +husband, as she usually did on those rare occasions when anything +approaching to a dispute arose between them. Having come to the +conclusion that "it" was Mrs. Goddard, the remainder of the secret needed +no discovery. It was plain that John must be in love with the tenant of +the cottage, and it seemed likely that it would devolve upon Mrs. Ambrose +to clear up the matter. She was very fond of John and her first +impression was that Mrs. Goddard, whom she now again suspected of having +foreign blood, had "led him on"--an impression which the vicar had +anticipated when he rashly resolved not to tell his wife John's secret. +She knew very well that the vicar must have told John his mind in regard +to such an attachment, and she easily concluded that he must have done so +on the previous evening when John called him into the study. But she had +just won a victory over her husband, and she consequently felt that he +was weak, probably too weak to save the situation, and it was borne in +upon her that she ought to do something immediately. Unhappily she did +not see quite clearly what was to be done. She might go straight to Mrs. +Goddard and accuse her of having engaged John's affections; but the more +she thought of that, the more diffident she grew in regard to the result +of such an interview. Curiosity had led her to a certain point, but +caution prevented her from going any further. Mrs. Ambrose was very +cautious. The habit of living in a small place, feeling that all her +actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them, +had made her even more careful than she was by nature. It would be very +unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. Goddard unless she were very sure +of the result. Mrs. Goddard was hardly a friend. In Mrs. Ambrose's +opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost +daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not constitute +friendship. Nevertheless the vicar's wife would have been ashamed to own +that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of +Mrs. Goddard's real character; especially as the latter had requested the +vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at +Billingsfield. Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained +over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally +the events of the last few days. She remembered distinctly that John had +perpetually pursued Mrs. Goddard, and that although the latter seemed to +find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose's knowledge +given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and +signals, which in the good lady's mind were classified under the term +"flirting." Mrs. Ambrose's ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated; +thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had +not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just. +Mrs. Goddard had not flirted with John. It is worthy of notice that in +proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an +explanation from Mrs. Goddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually +arrived at the conclusion that it was John's fault. Half an hour ago, in +the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be +John's fault. She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity. +Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be passed over with +indifference. It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very +soon. + +John thought so too. Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar +knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him +to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of +marrying Mrs. Goddard. He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once +and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over. He would then come +back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the +prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs. +Goddard's feet. But of course he must have one farewell interview. Oh, +those farewell interviews! Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is +taken without leave! + +Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving +the vicarage on the morrow. Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an +equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly +pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for +his health. She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she +was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be +helped. The vicar was moved by his wife's apparent indifference. John, he +said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but +at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of +fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the +consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress. John +saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of +going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night's +interview. But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt +to explain to himself what was happening. + +But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his +intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he +meant to see Mrs. Goddard before he left he must go to her at once. He +therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in +the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road. + +He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. Goddard. He meant, of +course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving +suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to +accomplish it. He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into +his head spontaneously. His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he +blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage. Almost before he knew where +he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the +presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved. But to his great +annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her. Mrs. Goddard sat near +the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep +sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and +hands as she read. Mrs. Goddard extended her hand, without rising. + +"How do you do, Mr. Short?" she said. The young man stood hat in hand in +the middle of the room, feeling very nervous. It was strange that he +should experience any embarrassment now, considering how many hours he +had spent in her company during the last few days. He blushed and +stammered. + +"How do you do? I, in fact--I have come to say good-bye," he blurted out. + +"So soon?" said Mrs. Goddard calmly. "Pray sit down." + +"Are you really going away, Mr. Short?" asked Nellie. "We are so sorry to +lose you." The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been +reading, and thought it very appropriate. Her mother smiled. + +"Yes--as Nellie says--we are sorry to lose you," she said. "I thought you +were to stay until Monday?" + +"So I was--but--very urgent business--not exactly business of course, but +work--calls me away sooner." Having delivered himself of this masterpiece +of explanation John looked nervously at Nellie and then at his hat and +then, with an imploring glance, at Mrs. Goddard. + +"But we shall hear of you, Mr. Short--after the examinations, shall we +not?" + +"Oh yes," said John eagerly. "I will come down as soon as the lists are +out." + +"You have my best wishes, you know," said Mrs. Goddard kindly. "I feel +quite sure that you will really be senior classic." + +"Mamma is always saying that--it is quite true," explained Nellie. + +John blushed again and looked gratefully at Mrs. Goddard. He wished +Nellie would go away, but there was not the least chance of that. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "I often say it. We all take a great interest +in your success here." + +"You are very kind," murmured John. "Of course I shall come down at once +and tell you all about it, if I succeed. I do not really expect to be +first, of course. I shall be satisfied if I get a place in the first ten. +But I mean to do my best." + +"No one can do more," said Mrs. Goddard, leaning back in her chair and +looking into the fire. Her face was quiet, but not sad as it sometimes +was. There was a long silence which John did not know how to break. +Nellie sat upon a carved chair by the side of the fireplace dangling her +legs and looking at her toes, turning them alternately in and out. She +wished John would go for she wanted to get back to her book, but had been +told it was not good manners to read when there were visitors. John +looked at Mrs. Goddard's face and was about to speak, and then changed +his mind and grew red and said nothing. Had she noticed his shyness she +would have made an effort at conversation, but she was absent-minded +to-day, and was thinking of something else. Suddenly she started and +laughed a little. + +"I beg your pardon," she said. "What were you saying, Mr. Short?" Had +John been saying anything he would have repeated it, but being thus +interrogated he grew doubly embarrassed. + +"I--I have not much to say--except good-bye," he answered. + +"Oh, don't go yet," said Mrs. Goddard. "You are not going this afternoon? +It is always so unpleasant to say good-bye, is it not?" + +"Dreadfully," answered John. "I would rather say anything else in the +world. No; I am going early to-morrow morning. There is no help for it," +he added desperately. "I must go, you know." + +"The next time you come, you will be able to stay much longer," said Mrs. +Goddard in an encouraging way. "You will have no more terms, then." + +"No indeed--nothing but to take my degree." + +"And what will you do then? You said the other day that you thought +seriously of going into the church." + +"Oh mamma," interrupted Nellie suddenly looking up, "fancy Mr. Short in a +black gown, preaching like Mr. Ambrose! How perfectly ridiculous he would +look!" + +"Nellie--Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, "do not talk nonsense. It is +very rude to say Mr. Short would look ridiculous." + +"I didn't mean to be rude, mamma," returned Nellie, blushing scarlet and +pouting her lips, "only it would be very funny, wouldn't it?" + +"I daresay it would," said John, relieved by the interruption. "I wish +you would advise me what to do, Mrs. Goddard," he added in a confidential +tone. + +"I?" she exclaimed, and then laughed. "How should I be able to advise +you?" + +"I am sure you could," said John, insisting. "You have such wonderfully +good judgment--" + +"Have I? I did not know it. But, tell me, if you come out very high are +you not sure of getting a fellowship?" + +"It is likely," answered John indifferently. "But I should have to give +it up if I married--" + +"Surely, Mr. Short," cried Mrs. Goddard, with a laugh that cut him to the +quick, "you do not think of marrying for many years to come?" + +"Oh--I don't know," he said, blushing violently, "why should not I?" + +"In the first place, a man should never marry until he is at least five +and twenty years old," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. + +"Well--I may be as old as that before I get the fellowship." + +"Yes, I daresay. But even then, why should you want to resign a handsome +independence as soon as you have got it? Is there anything else so good +within your reach?" + +"There is the church, of course," said John. "But Miss Nellie seems to +think that ridiculous--" + +"Never mind Nellie," answered Mrs. Goddard. "Seriously, Mr. Short, do you +approve of entering the church merely as a profession, a means of earning +money?" + +"Well--no--I did not put it in that way. But many people do." + +"That does not prove that it is either wise or decent," said Mrs. +Goddard. "If you felt impelled to take orders from other motives, it +would be different. As I understand you, you are choosing a profession +for the sake of becoming independent." + +"Certainly," said John. + +"Well, then, there is nothing better for you to do than to get a +fellowship and hold it as long as you can, and during that time you can +make up your mind." She spoke with conviction, and the plan seemed good. +"But I cannot imagine," she continued, "why you should ask my advice." + +"And not to marry?" inquired John nervously. + +"There is plenty of time to think of that when you are thirty--even five +and thirty is not too late." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed John, "I think that is much too old!" + +"Do you call me old?" asked Mrs. Goddard serenely. "I was thirty-one on +my last birthday." + +For the twentieth time, John felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Not +only had he said an unconscionably stupid thing, but Mrs. Goddard, after +advising him not to marry for ten years, had almost hinted that she might +meanwhile be married herself. What else could she mean by the remark? But +John was hardly a responsible being on that day. His views of life and +his understanding were equally disturbed. + +"No indeed," he protested on hearing her confession of age. "No +indeed--why, you are the youngest person I ever saw, of course. But with +men--it is quite different." + +"Is it? I always thought women were supposed to grow old faster than men. +That is the reason why women always marry men so much older than +themselves." + +"Oh--in that case--I have nothing more to say," replied John in very +indistinct tones. The perspiration was standing upon his forehead; the +room swam with him and he felt a terrible, prickly sensation all over his +body. + +"Mamma, shan't I open the door? Mr. Short is so very hot," said Nellie +looking at him in some astonishment. At that moment John felt as though +he could have eaten little Nellie, long legs, ringlets and all, with +infinite satisfaction. He rose suddenly to his feet. + +"The fact is--it is late--I must really be saying good-bye," he +stammered. + +"Must you?" said Mrs. Goddard, suspecting that something was the matter. +"Well, I am very sorry to say good-bye. But you will be coming back soon, +will you not?" + +"Yes--I don't know--perhaps I shall not come back at all. Good-bye--Mrs. +Goddard--good-bye, Miss Nellie." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, looking at him with some +anxiety. "You are not ill? What is the matter?" + +"Oh dear no, nothing," answered John with an unnatural laugh. "No thank +you--good-bye." + +He managed to get out of the door and rushed down to the road. The cold +air steadied his nerves. He felt better. With a sudden revulsion of +feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against +the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general, +not forgetting poor little Nellie. + +"If ever I cross that threshold again--" he muttered with tragic +emphasis. His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously +as he strode towards the vicarage. Several little boys in ragged +smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own +fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned. + +So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the +following morning. He sent an excuse to Mr. Juxon explaining that the +urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when +the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared +the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some +of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly +of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay +and which had come to such a miserable end. + +Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs. Goddard, he was +surprised to find that his memory failed him. He could not recall +anything which could satisfactorily account for the terrible +disappointment and distress he had felt. She had only said that she was +thirty-one years old, precisely as the vicar had stated on the previous +evening, and she had advised him not to marry for some years to come. But +she had laughed, and his feelings had been deeply wounded--he could not +tell precisely at what point in the conversation, but he was quite +certain that she had laughed, and oh! that terrible Nellie! It was very +bitter, and John felt that the best part of his life was lived out. He +went back to his books with a dark and melancholy tenacity of purpose, +flavoured by a hope that he might come to some sudden and awful end in +the course of the next fortnight, thereby causing untold grief and +consternation to the hard-hearted woman he had loved. But before the +fortnight had expired he found to his surprise that he was intensely +interested in his work, and once or twice he caught himself wondering how +Mrs. Goddard would look when he went back to Billingsfield and told her +he had come out at the head of the classical Tripos--though, of course, +he had no intention of going there, nor of ever seeing her again. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mr. Juxon was relieved to hear that John Short had suddenly gone back to +Cambridge. He had indeed meant to like him from the first and had +behaved towards him with kindness and hospitality; but while ready to +admire his good qualities and to take a proper amount of interest in his +approaching contest for honours, he had found him a troublesome person to +deal with and, in his own words, a nuisance. Matters had come to a climax +after the tea at the cottage, when the squire had so completely +vanquished him, but since that evening the two had not met. + +The opposition which John brought to bear against Mr. Juxon was not, +however, without its effect. The squire was in that state of mind in +which a little additional pressure sufficed to sway his resolutions. +It has been seen that he had for some time regarded Mrs. Goddard's +society as an indispensable element in his daily life; he had been so +much astonished at discovering this that he had absented himself for +several days and had finally returned ready to submit to his fate, in so +far as his fate required that he should see Mrs. Goddard every day. +Shortly afterwards John had appeared and by his persistent attempts to +monopolise Mrs. Goddard's conversation had again caused an interruption +in the squire's habits, which the latter had resented with characteristic +firmness. The very fact of having resisted John had strengthened and +given a new tone to Mr. Juxon's feelings towards his tenant. He began to +watch the hands of the clock with more impatience than formerly when, +after breakfast, he sat reading the papers before the library fire, +waiting for the hour when he was accustomed to go down to the cottage. +His interest in the papers decreased as his interest in the time of day +grew stronger, and for the first time in his life he found to his great +surprise that after reading the news of the day with the greatest care, +he was often quite unable to remember a word of what he had read. Then, +at first, he would be angry with himself and would impose upon himself +the task of reading the paper again before going to the cottage. But very +soon he found that he had to read it twice almost every day, and this +seemed such an unreasonable waste of time that he gave it up, and fell +into very unsystematic habits. + +For some days, as though by mutual consent, neither Mrs. Goddard nor the +squire spoke of John Short. The squire was glad he was gone and hoped +that he would not come back, but was too kind-hearted to say so; Mrs. +Goddard instinctively understood Mr. Juxon's state of mind and did not +disturb his equanimity by broaching an unpleasant subject. Several days +passed by after John had gone and he would certainly not have been +flattered had he known that during that time two, out of the four persons +he had met so often in his short holiday, had never so much as mentioned +him. + +One afternoon in January the squire found himself alone with Mrs. +Goddard. It was a great exception, and she herself doubted whether she +were wise to receive him when she had not Nellie with her. Nellie had +gone to the vicarage to help Mrs. Ambrose with some work she had in hand +for her poor people, but Mrs. Goddard had a slight headache and had +stayed at home in consequence. The weather was very bad; heavy clouds +were driving overhead and the north-east wind howled and screamed through +the leafless oaks of the park, driving a fine sleet against the cottage +windows and making the dead creepers rattle against the wall. It was a +bitter January day, and Mrs. Goddard felt how pleasant a thing it was to +stay at home with a book beside her blazing fire. She was all alone, and +Nellie would not be back before four o'clock. Suddenly a well-known step +echoed upon the slate flags without and there was a ring at the bell. +Mrs. Goddard had hardly time to think what she should do, as she laid her +book upon her knee and looked nervously over her shoulder towards the +door. It was awkward, she thought, but it could not be helped. In such +weather it seemed absurd to send the squire away because her little girl +was not with her. He had come all the way down from the Hall to spend +this dreary afternoon at the cottage--she could not send him away. There +were sounds in the passage as of some one depositing a waterproof coat +and an umbrella, the door opened and Mr. Juxon appeared upon the +threshold. + +"Come in," said Mrs. Goddard, banishing her scruples as soon as she saw +him. "I am all alone," she added rather apologetically. The squire, who +was a simple man in many ways, understood the remark and felt slightly +embarrassed. + +"Is Miss Nellie out?" he asked, coming forward and taking Mrs. Goddard's +hand. He had not yet reached the point of calling the child plain +"Nellie;" he would have thought it an undue familiarity. + +"She is gone to the vicarage," answered Mrs. Goddard. "What a dreadful +day! You must be nearly frozen. Will you have a cup of tea?" + +"No thanks--no, you are very kind. I have had a good walk; I am not +cold--never am. As you say, in such weather I could not resist the +temptation to come in. This is a capital day to test that India-rubber +tubing we have put round your windows. Excuse me--I will just look and +see if the air comes through." + +Mr. Juxon carefully examined the windows of the sitting-room and then +returned to his seat. + +"It is quite air-tight, I think," he said with some satisfaction, as he +smoothed his hair with his hand. + +"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Goddard. "It was so very good of you." + +"Not a bit of it," returned the squire cheerily. "A landlord's chief +pre-occupation ought to be the comfort of his tenants and his next +thought should be to keep his houses in repair. I never owned any +houses before, so I have determined to start with good principles." + +"I am sure you succeed. You walked down?" + +"Always walk, in any weather. It is much less trouble and much cheaper. +Besides, I like it." + +"The best of all reasons. Then you will not have any tea? I almost wish +you would, because I want some myself." + +"Oh of course--in that case I shall be delighted. Shall I ring?" + +He rang and Martha brought the tea. Some time was consumed in the +preparations which Mr. Juxon watched with interest as though he had never +seen tea made before. Everything that Mrs. Goddard did interested him. + +"I do not know why it is," she said at last, "but weather like this is +delightful when one is safe at home. I suppose it is the contrast--" + +"Yes indeed. It is like the watch below in dirty-weather." + +"Excuse me--I don't quite understand--" + +"At sea," explained the squire. "There is no luxury like being below when +the decks are wet and there is heavy weather about." + +"I should think so," said Mrs. Goddard. "Have you been at sea much, Mr. +Juxon?" + +"Thirty years," returned the squire laconically. Mrs. Goddard looked at +him in astonishment. + +"You don't mean to say you have been a sailor all your life?" + +"Does that surprise you? I have been a sailor since I was twelve years +old. But I got very tired of it. It is a hard life." + +"Were you in the navy, Mr. Juxon?" asked Mrs. Goddard eagerly, feeling +that she was at last upon the track of some information in regard to his +past life. + +"Yes--I was in the navy," answered the squire, slowly. "And then I was at +college, and then in the navy again. At last I entered the merchant +service and commanded my own ships for nearly twenty years." + +"How very extraordinary! Why then, you must have been everywhere." + +"Very nearly. But I would much rather be in Billingsfield." + +"You never told me," said Mrs. Goddard almost reproachfully. "What a +change it must have been for you, from the sea to the life of a country +gentleman!" + +"It is what I always wanted." + +"But you do not seem at all like the sea captains one hears about--" + +"Well, perhaps not," replied the squire thoughtfully. "There are a great +many different classes of sea captains. I always had a taste for books. A +man can read a great deal on a long voyage. I have sometimes been at sea +for more than two years at a time. Besides, I had a fairly good education +and--well, I suppose it was because I was a gentleman to begin with and +was more than ten years in the Royal Navy. All that makes a great +difference. Have you ever made a long voyage, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"I have crossed the channel," said she. "But I wish you would tell me +something more about your life." + +"Oh no--it is very dull, all that. You always make me talk about myself," +said the squire in a tone of protestation. + +"It is very interesting." + +"But--could we not vary the conversation by talking about you a little?" +suggested Mr. Juxon. + +"Oh no! Please--" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. She grew pale +and busied herself again with the tea. "Do tell me more about your +voyages. I suppose that was the way you collected so many beautiful +things, was it not?" + +"Yes, I suppose so," answered the squire, looking at her curiously. "In +fact of course it was. I was a great deal in China and South America and +India, and in all sorts of places where one picks up things." + +"And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?" + +"Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil +your carpet." + +The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point +of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she +had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost +control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day. + +"Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about +at first," she remarked, in order to say something. + +"I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her +again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard--I don't mean to be inquisitive you know, +but--I always want to be of any use." + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +"I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I +have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can +help you in any way--you have only to say the word." + +Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the +genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was +surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was +in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had +suffered during the greater part of the last three years. + +"You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter--I have a +headache." + +"Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed +embarrassed. + +"You have done too much already," said Mrs. Goddard, fearing that she had +not sufficiently acknowledged his offer of assistance. + +"I cannot do too much. That is impossible," he said in a tone of +conviction. "I have very few friends, Mrs. Goddard, and I like to think +that you are one of the best of them." + +"I am sure--I don't know what to say, Mr. Juxon," she answered, somewhat +startled by the directness of his speech. "I am sure you have always been +most kind, and I hope you do not think me ungrateful." + +"I? You? No--dear me, please never mention it! The fact is, Mrs. +Goddard--" he stopped and smoothed Ms hair. "What particularly +disagreeable weather," he remarked irrelevantly, looking out of the +window at the driving sleet. + +Mrs. Goddard looked down and slowly stirred her tea. She was pale and her +hand trembled a little, but no one could have guessed that she was +suffering any strong emotion. Mr. Juxon looked towards the window, and +the grey light of the winter's afternoon fell coldly upon his square +sunburned face and carefully trimmed beard. He was silent for a moment, +and then, still looking away from his companion, he continued in a less +hesitating tone. + +"The fact is, I have been thinking a great deal of late," he said, "and +it has struck me that your friendship has grown to be the most important +thing in my life." He paused again and turned his hat round upon his +knee. Still Mrs. Goddard said nothing, and as he did not look at her he +did not perceive that she was unnaturally agitated. + +"I have told you what my life has been," he continued presently. "I have +been a sailor. I made a little money. I finally inherited my uncle's +estate here. I will tell you anything else you would like to ask--I don't +think I ever did anything to conceal. I am forty-two years old. I have +about five thousand a year and I am naturally economical. I would like to +make you a proposal--a very respectful proposal, Mrs. Goddard--" + +Mrs. Goddard uttered a faint exclamation of surprise and fell back in her +chair, staring with wide eyes at the squire, her cheeks very pale and her +lips white. He was too much absorbed in what he was saying to notice the +short smothered ejaculation, and he was too much embarrassed to look at +her. + +"Mrs. Goddard," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "will you marry +me?" + +He was not prepared for the result of his speech. He had pondered it for +some time and had come to the conclusion that it was best to say as +little as possible and to say it plainly. It was an honourable proposal +of marriage from a man in middle life to a lady he had known and +respected for many months; there was very little romance about it; he did +not intend that there should be any. As soon as he had spoken he turned +his head and looked to her for his answer. Mrs. Goddard had clasped her +small white hands over her face and had turned her head away from him +against the cushion of the high backed chair. The squire felt very +uncomfortable in the dead silence, broken only by the sleet driving +against the window panes with a hissing, rattling sound, and by the +singing of the tea-kettle. For some seconds, which to Juxon seemed like +an eternity, Mrs. Goddard did not move. At last she suddenly dropped +her hands and looked into the squire's eyes. He was startled by the ashen +hue of her face. + +"It is impossible," she said, shortly, in broken tones. But the squire +was prepared for some difficulties. + +"I do not see the impossibility," he said quite calmly. "Of course, +I would not press you for an answer, my dear Mrs. Goddard. I am afraid +I have been very abrupt, but I will go away, I will leave you to +consider--" + +"Oh no, no!" cried the poor lady in great distress. "It is quite +impossible--I assure you it is quite, quite impossible!" + +"I don't know," said Mr. Juxon, who saw that she was deeply moved, but +was loath to abandon the field without a further struggle. "I am not a +very young man, it is true--but I am not a very old one either. You, my +dear Mrs. Goddard, have been a widow for some years--" + +"I?" cried Mrs. Goddard with a wild hysterical laugh. "I! Oh God of +mercy! I wish I were." Again she buried her face in the cushion. Her +bosom heaved violently. + +The squire started as though he had been struck, and the blood rushed to +his brown face so that the great veins on his temples stood out like +cords. + +"Did I--did I understand you to say that--your husband is living?" he +asked in a strong, loud voice, ringing with emotion. + +Mrs. Goddard moved a little and seemed to make a great effort to speak. + +"Yes," she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the +room in terrible agitation. + +"But where?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. "Mrs. Goddard, I +think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of +him?" + +By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat +supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly +staring eyes. + +"You have a right to know," she said. "He is in Portland--sentenced to +twelve years hard labour for forgery." + +She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she +did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite +motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the +palms turned upwards on her knees. + +Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong +language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of +the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and +he uttered aloud one strong and solemn ejaculation, more an invocation +than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he +looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady +and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes, +motionless, staring out at the driving sleet. + +Mrs. Goddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to +attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should +have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for +in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened +them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the +grey light. + +"Mr. Juxon," she said faintly, "come here, please." + +The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His +face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing. + +"Mr. Juxon," said Mrs. Goddard, speaking in a low voice, but with far +more calm than he could have expected, "you have a right to know my +story. You have been very kind to me, you have made an honourable offer +to me, you have said you were my friend. I ought to have told you before. +If I had had any idea of what was passing in your mind, I would have told +you, cost what it might." + +Mr. Juxon gravely bowed his head. She was quite right, he thought. He had +a right to know all. With all his kind-heartedness he was a stern man by +nature. + +"Yes," continued Mrs. Goddard, "you have every right to know. My +husband," her voice trembled, "was the head of an important firm in +London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's +death I married Mr. Goddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant +tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon +me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my +husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern. +When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My +husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He +speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his +hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three +years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed. +It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and +brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of +retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of +one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at +Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most +of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I +thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers assured me that I +ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It +is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who +conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I +would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and +gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story. +I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--" + +Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her +voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her +eyes. + +"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her +side, but who was in reality deeply moved. + +"No--she thinks he--that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she +fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and +rocking herself from side to side. + +"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her +arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for +having caused you so much pain--" + +"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady. + +"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard +dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears. + +"I think you behaved very honourably--very generously," continued Mr. +Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood +much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you--you +are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I +should go?" + +"Yes--it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all +about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to +his feet. + +"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this--this very unfortunate +day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?" + +Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears. + +"How good you are!" she said softly. + +"Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend. +Good-bye--G--God bless you!" He seized her hand and squeezed it and then +hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with +Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him. + +The squire was not a romantic character. He was a strong plain man, who +had seen the world and was used to most forms of danger and to a good +many forms of suffering. He was kind-hearted and generous, capable of +feeling sincere sympathy for others, and under certain circumstances of +being deeply wounded himself. He had indeed a far more refined nature +than he himself suspected and on this memorable day he had experienced +more emotions than he remembered to have felt in the course of many +years. + +After long debate and after much searching inquiry into his own motives +he had determined to offer himself to Mrs. Goddard, and he had +accordingly done so in his own straightforward manner. It had seemed +a very important action in his life, a very solemn step, but he was not +prepared for the acute sense of disappointment which he felt when Mrs. +Goddard first said it was impossible for her to accept him, still less +had he anticipated the extraordinary story which she had told him, in +explanation of her refusal. His ideas were completely upset. That Mrs. +Goddard was not a widow after all, was almost as astounding as that she +should prove to be the wife of a felon. But Mr. Juxon was no less +persuaded that she herself was a perfectly good and noble woman, than he +had been before. He felt that he would like to cut the throat of the +villain himself; but he resolved that he would more than ever try to be a +good friend to Mrs. Goddard. + +He walked slowly through the storm towards his house, his broad figure +facing the wind and sleet with as much ease as a steamer forging against +a head sea. He was perfectly indifferent to the weather; but Stamboul +slunk along at his heels, shielding himself from the driving wet snow +behind his master's sturdy legs. The squire was very much disturbed. The +sight of his own solemn butler affected him strangely. He stared about +the library in a vacant way, as though he had never seen the place +before. The realisation of his own calm and luxurious life seemed +unnatural, and his thoughts went back to the poor weeping woman he had +just left. She, too, had enjoyed all this, and more also. She had +probably been richer than he. And now she was living on five hundred a +year in one of his own cottages, hiding her shame in desolate +Billingsfield, the shame of her husband, the forger. + +It was such a hopeless position, the squire thought. No one could help +her, no one could do anything for her. For many weeks, revolving the +situation in his mind, he had amused himself by thinking how she would +look when she should be mistress of the Hall, and wondering whether +little Nellie would call him "father," or merely "Mr. Juxon." And now, +she turned out to be the wife of a forger, sentenced to hard labour in a +convict prison, for twelve years. For twelve years--nearly three must +have elapsed already. In nine years more Goddard would be out again. +Would he claim his wife? Of course--he would come back to her for +support. And poor little Nellie thought he was dead! It would be a +terrible day when she had to be told. If he only would die in +prison!--but men sentenced to hard labour rarely die. They are well cared +for. It is a healthy life. He would certainly live through it and come +back to claim his wife. Poor Mrs. Goddard! her troubles were not ended +yet, though the State had provided her with a respite of twelve years. + +The squire sat long in his easy-chair in the great library, and forgot to +dress for dinner--he always dressed, even though he was quite alone. But +the solemn face of his butler betrayed neither emotion nor surprise when +the master of the Hall walked into the dining-room in his knickerbockers. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +When Nellie came home from the vicarage she found her mother looking very +ill. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her features were drawn +and tear-stained, while the beautiful waves of her brown hair had lost +their habitual neatness and symmetry. The child noticed these things, +with a child's quickness, but explained them on the ground that her +mother's headache was probably much worse. Mrs. Goddard accepted the +explanation and on the following day Nellie had forgotten all about it; +but her mother remembered it long, and it was many days before she +recovered entirely from the shock of her interview with the squire. The +latter did not come to see her as usual, but on the morning after his +visit he sent her down a package of books and some orchids from his +hothouses. He thought it best to leave her to herself for a little while; +the very sight of him, he argued, would be painful to her, and any +meeting with her would be painful to himself. He did not go out of the +house, but spent the whole day in his library among his books, not indeed +reading, but pretending to himself that he was very busy. Being a strong +and sensible man he did not waste time in bemoaning his sorrows, but he +thought about them long and earnestly. The more he thought, the more it +appeared to him that Mrs. Goddard was the person who deserved pity rather +than he himself. His mind dwelt on the terrors of her position in case +her husband should return and claim his wife and daughter when the twelve +years were over, and he thought with horror of Nellie's humiliation, if +at the age of twenty she should discover that her father during all these +years had not been honourably dead and buried, but had been suffering the +punishment of a felon in Portland. That the only attempt he had ever made +to enter the matrimonial state should have been so singularly unfortunate +was indeed a matter which caused him sincere sorrow; he had thought too +often of being married to Mary Goddard to be able to give up the idea +without a sigh. But it is due to him to say that in the midst of his own +disappointment he thought much more of her sorrows than of his own, a +state of mind most probably due to his temperament. + +He saw also how impossible it was to console Mrs. Goddard or even to +alleviate the distress of mind which she must constantly feel. Her +destiny was accomplished in part, and the remainder seemed absolutely +inevitable. No one could prevent her husband from leaving his prison when +his crime was expiated; and no one could then prevent him from joining +his wife and ending his life under her roof. At least so it seemed. +Endless complications would follow. Mrs. Goddard would certainly have to +leave Billingsfield--no one could expect the Ambroses or the squire +himself to associate with a convict forger. Mr. Juxon vaguely wondered +whether he should live another nine years to see the end of all this, and +he inwardly determined to go to sea again rather than to witness such +misery. He could not see, no one could see how things could possibly turn +out in any other way. It would have been some comfort to have gone to the +vicar, and to have discussed with him the possibilities of Mrs. Goddard's +future. The vicar was a man after his own heart, honest, reliable, +charitable and brave; but Mr. Juxon thought that it would not be quite +loyal towards Mrs. Goddard if he let any one else know that he was +acquainted with her story. + +For two days he stayed at home and then he went to see her. To his +surprise she received him very quietly, much as she usually did, without +betraying any emotion; whereupon he wished that he had not allowed two +days to pass without making his usual visit. Mrs. Goddard almost wished +so too. She had been so much accustomed to regard the squire as a friend, +and she had so long been used to the thought that Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose +knew of her past trouble, that the fact of the squire becoming acquainted +with her history seemed to her less important, now that it was +accomplished, than it seemed to the squire himself. She had long thought +of telling him all; she had seriously contemplated doing so when he first +came to Billingsfield, and now at last the thing was done. She was glad +of it. She was no longer in a false position; he could never again think +of marrying her; they could henceforth meet as friends, since he was so +magnanimous as to allow their friendship to exist. Her pride had suffered +so terribly in the beginning that it was past suffering now. She felt +that she was in the position of a suppliant asking only for a quiet +resting-place for herself and her daughter, and she was grateful to the +people who gave her what she asked, feeling that she had fallen among +good Samaritans, whereas in merry England it would have been easy for her +to have fallen among priests and Pharisees. + +So it came about that in a few days her relations with Mr. Juxon were +re-established upon a new basis, but more firmly and satisfactorily than +before, seeing that now there was no possibility of mistake. And for a +long time it seemed as though matters would go on as before. Neither Mrs. +Goddard nor the squire ever referred to the interview on that memorable +stormy afternoon, and so far as the squire could judge his life and hers +might go on with perfect tranquillity until it should please the powers +that be and the governor of Portland to set Mr. Walter Goddard at +liberty. Heaven only knew what would happen then, but it was provided +that there should be plenty of time to prepare for anything which might +ensue. The point upon which Mrs. Goddard had not spoken plainly was that +which concerned her probable treatment of her husband after his +liberation. She had passed that question over in silence. She had +probably never dared to decide. Most probably she would at the last +minute seek some safer retreat than Billingsfield and make tip her mind +to hide for the rest of her life. But Mr. Juxon had heard of women who +had carried charity as far as to receive back their husbands under even +worse circumstances; women were soft-hearted creatures, reflected the +squire, and capable of anything. + +Few people in such a situation could have acted consistently as though +nothing had happened. But Mr. Juxon's extremely reticent nature found it +easy to bury other people's important secrets at least as deeply as he +buried the harmless details of his own honest life. Not a hair of his +smooth head was ruffled, not a line of his square manly face was +disturbed. He looked and acted precisely as he had looked and acted +before. His butler remarked that he ate a little less heartily of late, +and that on one evening, as has been recorded, the squire forgot to +dress for dinner. But the butler in his day had seen greater +eccentricities than these; he had the greatest admiration for Mr. Juxon +and was not inclined to cavil at small things. A real gentleman, of the +good sort, who dressed for dinner when he was alone, who never took too +much wine, who never bullied the servants nor quarrelled unjustly with +the bills, was, as the butler expressed it, "not to be sneezed at, on +no account." The place was a little dull, but the functionary was well +stricken in years and did not like hard work. Mr. Juxon seemed to be +conscious that as he never had visitors at the Hall and as there were +consequently no "tips," his staff was entitled to an occasional fee, +which he presented always with great regularity, and which had the +desired effect. He was a generous man as well as a just. + +The traffic in roses and orchids and new books continued as usual between +the Hall and the cottage, and for many weeks nothing extraordinary +occurred. Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard met frequently, and the only +difference to be observed in the manner of the former was that she +mentioned John Short very often, and every time she mentioned him she +fixed her grey eyes sternly upon Mrs. Goddard, who however did not notice +the scrutiny, or, if she did, was not in the least disturbed by it. For a +long time Mrs. Ambrose entertained a feeble intention of addressing Mrs. +Goddard directly upon the subject of John's affections, but the longer +she put off doing so, the harder it seemed to do it. Mrs. Ambrose had +great faith in the sternness of her eye under certain circumstances, and +seeing that Mrs. Goddard never winced, she gradually fell into the belief +that John had been the more to blame, if there was any blame in the +matter. She had indeed succeeded in the first instance, by methods of her +own which have been heretofore detailed, in extracting a sort of +reluctant admission from her husband; but since that day he had proved +obdurate to all entreaty. Once only he had said with considerable +impatience that John was a very silly boy, and was much better engaged +with his books at college than in running after Mrs. Goddard. That was +all, and gradually as the regular and methodical life at the vicarage +effaced the memory of the doings at Christmas time, the good Mrs. +Ambrose forgot that anything unpleasant had ever occurred. There was no +disturbance of the existing relations and everything went on as before +for many weeks. The February thaw set in early and the March winds began +to blow before February was fairly out. Nat Barker the octogenarian +cripple, who had the reputation of being a weather prophet, was +understood to have said that the spring was "loike to be forrard t'year," +and the minds of the younger inhabitants were considerably relieved. Not +that Nat Barker's prophecies were usually fulfilled; no one ever +remembered them at the time when they might have been verified. But they +were always made at the season when people had nothing to do but to talk +about them. Mr. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, turned up his nose +at them, and said he "wished Nat Barker had to dig a parish depth grave +in three hours without a drop of nothin' to wet his pipe with, and if he +didden fine that groun' oncommon owdacious Thomas Reid he didden know. +They didden know nothin', sir, them parish cripples." Wherewith the +worthy sexton took his way with a battered tin can to get his "fours" +at the Feathers. He did not patronise the Duke's Head. It was too +new-fangled for him, and he suspected his arch enemy, Mr. Abraham Boosey, +of putting a rat or two into the old beer to make it "draw," which +accounted for its being so "hard." But Mr. Abraham Boosey was the +undertaker, and he, Thomas Reid, was the sexton, and it did not do to +express these views too loudly, lest perchance Mr. Boosey should, just in +his play, construct a coffin or two just too big for the regulation +grave, and thereby leave Mr. Reid in the lurch. For the undertaker and +the gravedigger are as necessary to each other, as Mr. Reid maintained, +as a pair of blackbirds in a hedge. + +But the spring was "forrard t'year" and the weather was consequently even +more detestable than usual at that season. The roads were heavy. The rain +seemed never weary of pouring down and the wind never tired of blowing. +The wet and leafless creepers beat against the walls of the cottage, and +the chimneys smoked both there and at the vicarage. The rooms were +pervaded with a disagreeable smell of damp coal smoke, and the fires +struggled desperately to burn against the overwhelming odds of rain and +wind which came down the chimneys. Mrs. Goddard never remembered to have +been so uncomfortable during the two previous winters she had spent in +Billingsfield, and even Nellie grew impatient and petulant. The only +bright spot in those long days seemed to be made by the regular visits of +Mr. Juxon, by the equally regular bi-weekly appearance of the Ambroses +when they came to tea, and by the little dinners at the vicarage. The +weather had grown so wet and the roads so bad that on these latter +occasions the vicar sent his dogcart with Reynolds and the old mare, +Strawberry, to fetch his two guests. Even Mr. Juxon, who always walked +when he could, had got into the habit of driving down to the cottage +in a strange-looking gig which he had imported from America, and which, +among all the many possessions of the squire, alone attracted the +unfavourable comment of his butler. He would have preferred to see a good +English dogcart, high in the seat and wheels, at the door of the Hall, +instead of that outlandish vehicle; but Joseph Ruggles, the groom, +explained to him that it was easier to clean than a dogcart, and that +when it rained he sat inside with the squire. + +On a certain evening in February, towards the end of the month, Mr. and +Mrs. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon came to have tea with Mrs. Goddard. Mr. Juxon +had at first not been regularly invited to these entertainments. They +were perhaps not thought worthy of his grandeur; at all events both the +vicar's wife and Mrs. Goddard had asked him very rarely. But as time went +on and Mr. Juxon's character developed under the eyes of the little +Billingsfield society, it had become apparent to every one that he was a +very simple man, making no pretensions whatever to any superiority on +account of his station. They grew more and more fond of him, and ended by +asking him to their small sociable evenings. On these occasions it +generally occurred that the squire and the vicar fell into conversation +about classical and literary subjects while the two ladies talked of the +little incidents of Billingsfield life, of Tom Judd's wife and of Joe +Staines, the choir boy, who was losing his voice, and of similar topics +of interest in the very small world in which they lived. + +The present evening had not been at all a remarkable one so far as the +talk was concerned. The drenching rain, the tendency of the fire to +smoke, the general wetness and condensed depravity of the atmosphere had +affected the spirits of the little party. They were not gay, and they +broke up early. It was not nine o'clock when all had gone, and Mrs. +Goddard and little Eleanor were left alone by the side of their +drawing-room fire. The child sat upon a footstool and leaned her head +against her mother's knee. Mrs. Goddard herself was thoughtful and +sad, without precisely knowing why. She generally looked forward with +pleasure to meeting the Ambroses, but this evening she had been rather +disappointed. The conversation had dragged, and the excellent Mrs. +Ambrose had been more than usually prosy. Nellie had complained of a +headache and leaned wearily against her mother's knee. + +"Tell me a story, mamma--won't you? Like the ones you used to tell me +when I was quite a little girl." + +"Dear child," said her mother, who was not thinking of story-telling, "I +am afraid I have forgotten all the ones I ever knew. Besides, darling, it +is time for you to go to bed." + +"I don't want to go to bed, mamma. It is such a horrid night. The wind +keeps me awake." + +"You will not sleep at all if I tell you a story," objected Mrs. Goddard. + +"Mr. Juxon tells me such nice stories," said Nellie, reproachfully. + +"What are they about, dear?" + +"Oh, his stories are beautiful. They are always about ships and the blue +sea and wonderful desert islands where he has been. What a wonderful man +he is, mamma, is not he?" + +"Yes, dear, he talks very interestingly." Mrs. Goddard stroked Nellie's +brown curls and looked into the fire. + +"He told me that once, ever so many years ago--he must be very old, +mamma--" Nellie paused and looked up inquiringly. + +"Well, darling--not so very, very old. I think he is over forty." + +"Over forty--four times eleven--he is not four times as old as I am. +Almost, though. All his stories are ever so many years ago. He said he +was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new ship, and the name of +the ship was--let me see, what was the name? I think it was--" + +Mrs. Goddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child's shoulder. + +"Did you hear anything, Nellie?" she asked quickly. Nellie looked up in +some surprise. + +"No, mamma. When? Just now? It must have been the wind. It is such a +horrid night. The name of the ship was the 'Zephyr'--I remember, now." +She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story. Mrs. +Goddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window. She +had probably been mistaken. + +"And where did the ship sail to, Nellie dear?" she asked, smoothing the +child's curls again and forcing herself to smile. + +"Oh--the ship was a perfectly new ship and it was the most beautiful +weather in the world. They were sailing away ever so far, towards the +straits of Magellan. I was so glad because I knew where the straits of +Magellan were--and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished. But I had been +learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen +there, in my geography that very morning--was not it lucky? So I knew all +about it--mamma, how nervous you are! It is nothing but the wind. I wish +you would listen to my story--" + +"I am listening, darling," said Mrs. Goddard, making a strong effort to +overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her. "Go on, +sweetheart--you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing +away--" + +"Mr. Juxon was, mamma," said Nellie correcting her mother with the +asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects. + +"Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the ship was the 'Zephyr.'" + +"Yes--the 'Zephyr,'" repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified. "It was at +Christmas time he said--but that is summer in the southern hemisphere," +she added, proud of her knowledge. "So it was very fine weather. And Mr. +Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a +cigar--" + +"He never smokes, dear," interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie +that she was listening. + +"Well, but he did then, because he said so," returned Nellie unmoved. +"And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he +saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship--the most wonderful thing +he ever saw," added Nellie with some redundance of expression. + +"Was it a whale, child?" asked her mother, staring into the fire and +trying to pay attention. + +"A whale, mamma!" repeated Nellie contemptuously. "As if there were +anything remarkable about a whale! Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales, +I am sure." + +"Well, what was it, dear?" + +"It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a +thousand times as big as the ship--oh mamma! What was that?" + +Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking +towards the window. Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of +her chair. + +"Somebody knocked at the window, mamma," said Nellie breathlessly. "And +then somebody said 'Mary'--quite loud. Oh mamma, what can it be?" + +"Mary?" repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream. + +"Yes--quite loud. Oh mamma! it must be Mary's young man--he does +sometimes come in the evening." + +"Mary's young man, child?" Mrs. Goddard's heart leaped. Her cook's name +was Mary, as well as her own. Nellie naturally never associated the name +with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it. + +"Yes mamma. Don't you know? The postman--the man with the piebald horse." +The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any +letters and probably did not know the postman by sight. + +"At this time of night!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "It is too bad. Mary is +gone to bed." + +"Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting +up for you in the drawing-room," suggested Nellie with much good sense. +"Well, he can't come in, can he, mamma?" + +"Certainly not," said her mother. "But I think you had much better go to +bed, my dear. It is half-past nine." She spoke indistinctly, almost +thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. But +Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her +mother. + +"Oh not yet," said she. "I have not nearly finished about the +sea-serpent. Mr. Juxon said it was not like anything in the world. Do +listen, mamma! It is the most wonderful story you ever heard. It was +all covered with blue and green scales, and it rolled, and rolled, and +rolled, and rolled, till at last it rolled up against the side of the +ship with such a tremendous bump that Mr. Juxon fell right down on his +back." + +"Yes dear," said Mrs. Goddard mechanically, as the child paused. + +"You don't seem to mind at all!" cried Nellie, who felt that her efforts +to amuse her mother were not properly appreciated. "He fell right down on +his back and hurt himself awfully." + +"That was very sad," said Mrs. Goddard. "Did he catch the sea-serpent +afterwards ?" + +"Catch the sea-serpent! Why mamma, don't you know that nobody has ever +caught the sea-serpent? Why, hardly anybody has ever seen him, even!" + +"Yes dear, but I thought Mr. Juxon--" + +"Of course, Mr. Juxon is the most wonderful man--but he could not catch +the sea-serpent. Just fancy! When he got up from his fall, he looked and +he saw him quite half a mile away. He must have gone awfully fast, should +not you think so? Because, you know, it was only a minute." + +"Yes, my child; and it is a beautiful story, and you told it so nicely. +It is very interesting and you must tell me another to-morrow. But now, +dear, you must really go to bed, because I am going to bed, too. That man +startled me so," she said, passing her small white hand over her pale +forehead and then staring into the fire. + +"Well, I don't wonder," answered Nellie in a patronising tone. "Such a +dreadful night too! Of course, it would startle anybody. But he won't try +again, and you can scold Mary to-morrow and then she can scold her young +man." + +The child spoke so naturally that all doubts vanished from Mrs. Goddard's +mind. She reflected that children are much more apt to see things as they +are, than grown people whose nerves are out of order. Nellie's +conclusions were perfectly logical, and it seemed folly to doubt them. +She determined that Mary should certainly be scolded on the morrow and +she unconsciously resolved in her mind the words she should use; for she +was rather a timid woman and stood a little in awe of her stalwart +Berkshire cook, with her mighty arms and her red face, and her uncommonly +plain language. + +"Yes dear," she said more quietly than she had been able to speak for +some time, "I have no doubt you are quite right. I thought I heard his +footsteps just now, going down the path. So he will not trouble us any +more to-night. And now darling, kneel down and say your prayers, and then +we will go to bed." + +So Nellie, reassured by the news that her mother was going to bed, too, +knelt down as she had done every night during the eleven years of her +life, and clasped her hands together, beneath her mother's. Then she +cleared her throat, then she glanced at the clock, then she looked for +one moment into the sweet serious violet eyes that looked down on her so +lovingly, and then at last she bent her lovely little head and began to +say her prayers, there, by the fire, at her mother's knees, while angry +storm howled fiercely without and shook the closed panes and shutters +and occasional drops of rain, falling down the short chimney, sputtered +in the smouldering coal fire. + +"Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom +come--" + +Nellie gave a loud scream and springing up from her knees flung her arms +around her mother's neck, in uttermost, wildest terror. + +"Mamma, mamma!" she cried looking, and yet hardly daring to look, back +towards the closed window. "It called 'MARY GODDARD'! It is you, mamma! +Oh!" + +There was no mistaking it this time. While Nellie was saying her prayer +there had come three sharp and distinct raps upon the wooden shutter, and +a voice, not loud but clear, penetrating into the room in spite of wind +and storm and rain. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard!" it said. + +Mrs. Goddard started to her feet, lifting Nellie bodily from the ground +in her agony of terror; staring round the room wildly as though in search +of some possible escape. + +"I must come in! I will come in!" said the voice again. + +"Oh don't let him in! Mamma! Don't let him in!" moaned the terrified +child upon her breast, clinging to her and weighing her down, and +grasping her neck and arm with convulsive strength. + +But in moments of great agitation timid people, or people who are thought +timid, not uncommonly do brave things. Mrs. Goddard unclasped Nellie's +hold and forced the terror-struck child into a deep chair. + +"Stay there, darling," she said with unnatural calmness. "Do not be +afraid. I will go and open the door." + +Nellie was now too much frightened to resist. Mrs. Goddard went out into +the little passage which was dimly lighted by a hanging lamp, and closed +the door of the drawing-room behind her. She could hear Nellie's +occasional convulsive sobs distinctly. For one moment she paused, her +right hand on the lock of the front door, her left hand pressed to her +side, leaning against the wall of the passage. Then she turned the key +and the handle and drew the door in towards her. A violent gust of wind, +full of cold and drenching rain, whirled into the passage and almost +blinded her. The lamp flickered in the lantern overhead. But she looked +boldly out, facing the wind and weather. + +"Come in!" she called in a low voice. + +Immediately there was a sound as of footsteps coming from the direction +of the drawing-room window, across the wet slate flags which surrounded +the cottage, and a moment afterwards, peering through the darkness, Mrs. +Goddard saw a man with a ghastly face standing before her in the rain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Mrs. Goddard's heart stood still as she looked at the wretched man, and +tried to discover her husband's face, even a resemblance to him, in the +haggard features she saw close before her. But he gave her small time for +reflection; so soon as he had recognised her he sprang past her into the +passage and pulling her after him closed the door. + +"Mary--don't you know me?" he said, in low tones. "You must save me--they +are after me--" He stood close beside her in the narrow way, beneath +the small lamp; he tried to put his arm around her and he bent down and +brought his ghastly face close to hers. But she drew back as from a +contamination. She was horrified, and it was a natural movement. She knew +his voice even better than his features, now that he spoke. He pressed +nearer to her and she thrust him back with her hands. Then suddenly a +thought struck her; she took him by the sleeve and led him into the +dining-room. There was no light there; she pushed him in. + +"Stay there one minute--" + +"No--no, you won't call--" + +"I will save you--there is--there is somebody in the drawing-room." +Before he could answer her she was gone, leaving him alone in the dark. +He listened intently, not venturing to leave the spot where she had +placed him; he thought he heard voices and footsteps, but no one came out +into the passage. It seemed an eternity to wait. At last she came, +bearing a lighted candle in her hand. She carefully shut the door of the +dining-room behind her and put the light upon the table. She moved like a +person in a dream. + +"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair. "Are you hungry?" His sunken +eyes sparkled. She brought food and ale and set them before him. He ate +and drank voraciously in silence. She sat at the opposite side of the +table--the solitary candle between them, and shading her eyes with one +hand she gazed at his face. + +Walter Goddard was a man at least forty years of age. He had been thought +very handsome once. He had light blue eyes and a fair skin with flaxen +hair--now cropped short and close to his head. There was nearly a +fortnight's growth of beard upon his face, but it was not yet sufficient +to hide his mouth and chin. He had formerly worn a heavy moustache and +it was chiefly the absence of it which now made it hard for his wife to +recognise him. A battered hat, drenched and dripping with rain, shaded +his brows. Possibly he was ashamed to remove it. His mouth was small and +weak and his jaw was pointed. His whole expression was singularly +disagreeable--his hands were filthy, and his face was not clean. About +his neck was twisted a ragged woollen comforter, and he wore a +smock-frock which was now soaked with water and clung to his thin figure. +He devoured the food his wife had brought him, shivering from time to +time as though he were still cold. + +Mrs. Goddard watched him in silence. She had done mechanically according +to her first instinct, had led him in and had given him food. But she had +not recovered herself sufficiently from her first horror and astonishment +to realise her situation. At last she spoke. + +"How did you escape?" she asked. He bent lower than before, over his +plate and would not look at her. + +"Don't ask me," he answered shortly. + +"Why did you do it?" she inquired again. Goddard laughed harshly; his +voice was hoarse and cracked. + +"Why did I do it!" he repeated. "Did you ever hear of any one who would +not escape from prison if he had the chance? Don't look at me like that, +Mary--" + +"I am sorry for you," she said. + +"You don't seem very glad to see me," he answered roughly. "I might have +known it." + +"Yes, you might have known it." + +It seemed a very hard and cruel thing to say, and Mary Goddard was very +far from being a cruel woman by nature; but she was stunned by fear and +disgust and horrified by the possibilities of harm suddenly brought +before her. + +Goddard pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows upon the table +supporting his chin in his hands. He scowled at her defiantly. + +"You have given me a warm reception, after nearly three years +of--separation." There was a bitter sneer in the word. + +"I am horrified to see you here," she said simply. "You know very well +that I cannot conceal you--" + +"Oh, I don't expect miracles," said Goddard contemptuously. "I don't know +that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly +agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved +husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--" + +"I will do what I can for you, Walter," said his wife, whose unnatural +calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation. + +"Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east," answered +the convict savagely. + +"I have not got fifty pounds in the house," protested Mary Goddard, in +some alarm. "I never keep much money--I can get it for you--" + +"I have a great mind to look," returned her husband suspiciously. "How +soon can you get it?" + +"To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--" + +"So you keep a banker's account?" + +"Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!" + +"Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once." Suddenly his voice +changed. "Oh, Mary--you used to love me!" cried the wretched man, burying +his face in his hands. + +"I was very wrong," answered his wife, looking away from him. "You did +not deserve it--you never did." + +"Because I was unfortunate!" + +"Unfortunate!" repeated Mary Goddard with rising scorn. +"Unfortunate--when you were deceiving me every day of your life. I could +have forgiven a great deal--Walter--but not that, not that!" + +"What? About the money?" he asked with sudden fierceness. + +"The money--no. Even though you were disgraced and convicted, Walter, I +would have forgiven that, I would have tried to see you, to comfort you. +I should have been sorry for you; I would have done what I could to help +you. But I could not forgive you the rest; I never can." + +"Bah! I never cared for her," said the convict. But under his livid skin +there rose a faint blush of shame. + +"You never cared for me--that is the reason I--am not glad to see you--" + +"I did, Mary. Upon my soul I did. I love you still!" He rose and came +near to his wife, and again he would have put his arm around her. But she +sprang to her feet with an angry light in her eyes. + +"If you dare to touch me, I will give you up!" she cried. Goddard shrank +back to his chair, very pale and trembling violently. + +"You would not do that, Mary," he almost whined. But she remained +standing, looking at him very menacingly. + +"Indeed I would--you don't know me," she said, between her teeth. + +"You are as hard as a stone," he answered, sullenly, and for some minutes +there was silence between them. + +"I suppose you are going to turn me out into the rain again?" asked the +convict. + +"You cannot stay here--you are not safe for a minute. You will have to +go. You must come back to-morrow and I will give you the money. You had +better go now--" + +"Oh, Mary, I would not have thought it of you," moaned Goddard. + +"Why--what else can I do? I cannot let you sleep in the house--I have no +barn. If any one saw you here it would be all over. People know about +it--" + +"What people?" + +"The vicar and his wife and Mr. Juxon at the Hall." + +"Mr. Juxon? What is he like? Would he give me up if he knew?" + +"I think he would," said Mary Goddard, thoughtfully. "I am almost sure he +would. He is the justice of the peace here--he would be bound to." + +"Do you know him?" Goddard thought he detected a slight nervousness in +his wife's manner. + +"Very well. This house belongs to him." + +"Oh!" ejaculated the convict. "I begin to see." + +"Yes--you see you had better go," said his wife innocently. "How can you +manage to come here tomorrow? You cannot go on without the money--" + +"No--and I don't mean to," he answered roughly. Money was indeed an +absolute necessity to him. "Give me what you have got in the house, +anyhow. You may think better of it to-morrow. I don't trust people of +your stamp." + +Mary Goddard rose without a word and left the room. When she was gone the +convict set himself to finish the jug of ale she had brought, and looked +about him. He saw objects that reminded him of his former home. He +examined the fork with which he had eaten and remembered the pattern and +the engraved initials as he turned it over in his hand. The very table +itself had belonged to his house--the carpet beneath his feet, the chair +upon which he sat. It all seemed too unnatural to be true. That very +night, that very hour, he must go forth again into the wild February +weather and hide himself, leaving all these things behind him; leaving +behind too his wife, the woman he had so bitterly injured, but who was +still his wife. It seemed impossible. Surely he might stay if he pleased; +it was not true that detectives were on his track--it was all a dream, +since that dreadful day when he had written that name, which was not his, +upon a piece of paper. He had waked up and was again at home. But he +started as he heard a footstep in the passage, being now accustomed to +start at sounds which suggested pursuit; he started and he felt the wet +smock-frock, which was his disguise, clinging to him as he moved, and the +reality of the present returned to him with awful force. His wife again +entered the room. + +"There are over nine pounds," she said. "It is all I have." She laid the +money upon the table before him and remained standing. "You shall have +the rest to-morrow," she added. + +"Can't I see Nellie?" he asked suddenly. It was the first time he had +spoken of his child. Mrs. Goddard hesitated. + +"No," she said at last. "You cannot see her now. She must not be told; +she thinks you are dead. You may catch a glimpse of her to-morrow--" + +"Well--it is better she should not know, I suppose. You could not +explain." + +"No, Walter, I could not--explain. Come later to-morrow night--to the +same window. I will undo the shutters and give you the money." Mary +Goddard was almost overcome with exhaustion. It was a terrible struggle +to maintain her composure under such circumstances; but necessity does +wonders. "Where will you sleep to-night?" she asked presently. She pitied +the wretch from her heart, though she longed to see him leave her house. + +"I will get into the stables of some public-house. I pass for a tramp." +There was a terrible earnestness in the simple statement, which did more +to make Mary Goddard realise her husband's position than anything else +could have done. To people who live in the country the word "tramp" means +so much. + +"Poor Walter!" said Mrs. Goddard softly, and for the first time since she +had seen him the tears stood in her eyes. + +"Don't waste your pity on me," he answered. "Let me be off." + +There was half a loaf and some cheese left upon the table. Mrs. Goddard +put them together and offered them to him. + +"You had better take it," she said. He took the food readily enough and +hid it under his frock. He knew the value of it. Then he got upon his +feet. He moved painfully, for the cold and the wet had stiffened his +limbs already weakened with hunger and exhaustion. + +"Let me be off," he said again, and moved towards the door. His wife +followed him in silence. In the passage he paused again. + +"Well, Mary," he said, "I suppose I ought to be grateful to you for not +giving me up to the police." + +"You know very well," answered Mrs. Goddard, "that what I can do to save +you, I will do. You know that." + +"Then do it, and don't forget the money. It's hanging this time if I'm +caught." + +Mrs. Goddard uttered a low cry and leaned against the wall. + +"What?" she faltered. "You have not--" + +"I believe I killed somebody in getting away," answered the felon with a +grim laugh. Then, without her assistance, he opened the door and went out +into the pouring rain. The door shut behind him and Mary Goddard heard +his retreating footsteps on the path outside. When he was fairly gone she +suddenly broke down, and falling upon her knees in the passage beat her +forehead against the wall in an agony of despair. + +Murderer--thief, forger and murderer, too! It was more than she could +bear. Even now he was within a stone's throw of her house; a moment ago +he had been here, beside her--there beyond, too, in the dining-room, +sitting opposite to her at her own table as he had sat in his days of +innocence and honour for many a long year before his crime. In the sudden +necessity of acting, in the unutterable surprise of finding herself again +face to face with him, she had been calm; now that he was gone she felt +as though she must go mad. She asked herself if this filthy tramp, this +branded villain, was the husband she had loved and cherished for years, +whose beauty she had admired, whose hand she had held so often, whose +lips she had kissed--if this was the father of her lovely child. It was +all over now. There was blood upon his hands as well as other guilt. If +he were caught he must die, or at the very least be imprisoned for life. +He could never again be free to come forth after the expiation of his +crimes and to claim her and his child. If he escaped now, it must be to +live in a distant country under a perpetual disguise. If he were caught, +the news of his capture would be in all the papers, the news of his trial +for murder, the very details of his execution. The Ambroses would know +and the squire, even the country folk, would perhaps at last know the +truth about her. Life even in the quiet spot she had chosen would become +intolerable, and she would be obliged to go forth again into a more +distant exile. She bitterly repented having written to her husband in his +prison to tell him where she was settled. It would have been sufficient +to acquaint the governor with the fact, so that Goddard might know where +she was when his term expired. She had never written but once, and he had +perhaps not been allowed to answer the letter. His appearance at her door +proved that he had received it. Would to God he had not, she thought. + +There were other things besides his crime of forgery which had acted far +more powerfully upon Mary Goddard's mind, and which had broken for ever +all ties of affection; circumstances which had appeared during his trial +and which had shown that he had not only been unfaithful to those who +trusted him, but had been unfaithful to the wife who loved him. That was +what she could not forgive; it was the memory of that which rose like an +impassable wall between her and him, worse than his frauds, his forgery, +worse almost than his murder. He had done that which even a loving woman +could not pardon, that which was past all forgiveness. That was why his +sudden appearance roused no tender memories, elicited seemingly so little +sympathy from her. She was too good a woman to say it, but she knew in +her heart that she wished him dead, the very possibility of ever seeing +him again gone from her life for ever, no matter how. + +But she must see him again, nevertheless, and to-morrow. To-morrow, too, +she would have to meet the squire, and appear to act and talk as though +nothing had happened in this terrible night. That would be the hardest of +all, perhaps; even harder than meeting her husband for a brief moment in +order to give him the means of escape. She felt that in helping him she +was participating in his crimes, and yet, she asked herself, what woman +would have acted differently? What woman, even though she might hate her +husband with her whole soul, and justly, would yet be so hard-hearted as +to refuse him assistance when he was flying for his life? It would be +impossible. She must help him at any cost; but it was hard to feel that +she must see the squire and behave with indifference, while her husband +was lurking in the neighbourhood, when a detective might at any moment +come to the door, and demand to search the house. + +These thoughts passed very quickly through her overwrought brain, as she +knelt in the passage; kneeling because she felt she could no longer +stand, the passionate tears streaming down her face, her small hands +pressing her temples. Then she struggled to her feet and dried her eyes, +steadying herself against the wall for a moment. She had almost forgotten +little Nellie whom she had left in the drawing-room. She had told the +child, when she went back to her, leaving Goddard alone in the dark, that +the man was a poor starving tramp, but that she did not want Nellie to +see him, because he looked so miserable. She would give him something to +eat and send him away, she said, and meanwhile Nellie should sit by the +drawing-room fire and wait for her. The child trusted her mother +implicitly and was completely reassured. Mrs. Goddard dried her eyes, +and re-entered the room. Nellie was curled up in a big chair with a book; +she looked up quickly. + +"Why, mamma," she said, "you have been crying!" + +"Have I, darling? I daresay it was the sight of that poor man. He was +very wretched." + +"Is he gone?" asked the child. + +It was unusually late and Nellie was beginning to be sleepy, so that she +was more easily quieted than she could have been in ordinary +circumstances. It might have struck her as strange that a wandering tramp +should know her mother's Christian name, as still more inexplicable that +her mother should have been willing to admit such a man at so late an +hour. She had been badly frightened, but trusting her mother as she did, +her terror had quickly disappeared and had been quickly followed by +sleepiness. + +But Mrs. Goddard. did not sleep that night. She felt as though she could +never sleep again, and for many hours she lay thinking of the new element +of fear which had so suddenly come into her life at the very time when +she believed herself to be safe for many years to come. She longed to +know where her wretched husband was; whether he had found shelter for the +night, whether he was still free or whether he had even then fallen into +the hands of his pursuers. She knew that she could not have concealed him +in the house and that she had done all that lay in her power for him. But +she started at every sound, as the rain rattled against the shutters and +the wind howled down the chimney. + +Walter Goddard, however, was safe for the present and was even +luxuriously lodged, considering his circumstances, for he was comfortably +installed amongst the hay in the barn of the "Feathers" inn. He had been +in Billingsfield since early in the afternoon and had considered +carefully the question of his quarters for the night. He had observed +from a distance the landlord of the said inn, and had boldly offered to +do a "day's work for a night's lodging." He said he was "tramping" his +way back from London to his home in Yorkshire; he knew enough of the +sound of the rough Yorkshire dialect to pass for a native of that county +amongst ignorant labourers who had never heard the real tongue. The +landlord of the Feathers consented to the bargain and Goddard was told +that he might sleep in the barn if he liked, and should take a turn at +cutting chaff the next day to pay for the convenience. The convict slept +soundly; he was past lying awake in useless fits of remorse, and he was +exhausted with his day's journey. Moreover he had now the immediate +prospect of obtaining sufficient money to carry him safely out of the +country, and once abroad he felt sure of baffling pursuit. He was an +accomplished man and spoke French with a fluency unusual in Englishmen; +he determined to get across the channel in some fishing craft; he would +then make his way to Paris and enlist in the Foreign Legion. It would be +safer than trying to go to America, where people were invariably caught +as they landed. It was a race for life and death, and he knew it. Had he +been able to obtain clothes, money and a disguise in London he would have +travelled by rail. But that had been impossible and it now seemed a wiser +plan to "tramp" it. His beard was growing rapidly and would soon make a +complete disguise. Village constables are generally simple people, easily +imposed upon, very different from London detectives; and hitherto he felt +sure that he had baffled pursuit by the mere simplicity of his +proceedings. The intelligent officials of Scotland Yard were used to +forgers and swindlers who travelled by express trains and crossed to +America by fashionable steamers. It did not strike them as very likely +that a man of Walter Goddard's previous tastes and habits could get +through the country in the guise of a tramp. If he had been possessed at +the time of his escape of the money he so much desired he would probably +have been caught; as it was, he got away without difficulty, and at the +very time when every railway station and every port in the kingdom were +being watched for him, he was lurking in the purlieus of Whitechapel, and +then tramping his way east in comparative safety, half starved, it is +true, but unmolested. + +That he was disappointed at the reception his wife had given him did not +prevent him from sleeping peacefully that night. One thing alone +disturbed him, and that was her mention of Mr. Juxon, in whose house, as +she had told him, she lived. It seems incredible that a man in Walter +Goddard's position, lost to every sense of honour, a criminal of the +worst type, who had deceived his wife before he was indicted for forgery, +who had certainly cared very little for her at any time, should now, in a +moment of supreme danger, feel a pang of jealousy on hearing that his +wife lived in the vicinity of the squire and occupied a house belonging +to him. But he was too bad himself not to suspect others, especially +those whom he had wronged, and the feeling was mingled with a strong +curiosity to know whether this woman, who now treated him so haughtily +and drew back from him as from some monstrous horror, was as good as she +pretended to be. He said to himself that on the next day at dawn he would +slip out of the barn and try whether he could not find some hiding-place +within easy reach of the cottage, so as to be able to watch her dwelling +at his ease throughout the day. The plan seemed a good one. Since he was +obliged to wait twenty-four hours in order to get the money he wanted, he +might as well employ the time profitably in observing his wife's habits. +It would be long, he said to himself with a bitter sneer, before he +troubled her again--he would just like to see. + +Having come to this decision he drew some of the hay over his body and in +spite of cold and wet was soon peacefully asleep. But at early dawn he +awoke with the alacrity of a man who constantly expects pursuit, and +slipped down from the hayloft into the barn. There was no one stirring +and he got over the fence at the back of the yard and skirted the fields +in the direction of the church, finally climbing another stile and +entering what he supposed to be the park. On this side the back of the +church ran out into a broad meadow, where the larger portion of the +ancient abbey had once stood. Goddard walked along close by the church +walls. He knew from his observation on the previous afternoon that he +could thus come out into the road in the vicinity of the cottage, unless +his way through the park were interrupted by impassable wire fences. The +ground was very heavy and he was sure not to meet anybody in the meadows +in such weather. + +Suddenly he stopped and looked at a buttress that jutted out from the +church and for the existence of which there seemed to be no ostensible +reason. He examined it and found that it was not a buttress but +apparently a half ruined chamber, which at some former period had been +built upon the side of the abbey. Low down by the ground there was a +hole, where a few stones seemed to have been removed and not replaced. +Goddard knelt down in the long wet grass and put in his head; then he +crept in on his hands and knees and presently disappeared. + +He found himself in a room about ten feet square, dimly lighted by a +small window at the top, and surrounded by long horizontal niches. The +floor, which was badly broken in some places, was of stone. Goddard +examined the place carefully. It was evidently an old vault of the kind +formerly built above ground for the lords of the manor; but the coffins, +if there had ever been any, had been removed elsewhere. Goddard laughed +to himself. + +"I might stay here for a year, if I could get anything to eat," he said +to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The squire had grown used to the position in which he found himself after +Mary Goddard had told him her story. He continued his visits as formerly, +and it could hardly be said that there was any change in his manner +towards her; there was no need of any change, for even at the time when +he contemplated making her his wife there had been nothing lover-like +in his behaviour. He had been a friend and had treated her with all the +respect due to a lonely lady who was his tenant, and even with a certain +formality which had sometimes seemed unnecessary. But though there was no +apparent alteration in his mode of talking, in his habit of bringing her +flowers and books and of looking after the condition of the cottage, both +she and he were perfectly conscious of the fact that they understood each +other much better than before. They were united by the common bond of a +common secret which very closely concerned one of them. Things were not +as they had formerly been. Mrs. Goddard no longer felt that she had +anything to hide; the squire knew that he no longer had anything to hope. +If he had been a selfish man, if she had been a less sensible woman, +their friendship might have ended then and there. But Mr. Juxon was not +selfish, and Mary Goddard did not lack good sense. Having ascertained +that in the ordinary course of events there was no possibility of ever +marrying her, the squire did not at once give her over and go elsewhere; +on the contrary he showed himself more desirous than ever of assisting +her and amusing her. He was a patient man; his day might come yet, if +Goddard died. It did not follow that if he could not marry Mrs. Goddard +he must needs marry some one else; for it was not a wife that he sought, +but the companionship of this particular woman as his wife. If he could +not marry he could still enjoy at least a portion of that companionship, +by visiting her daily and talking with her, and making himself a part of +her life. He judged things very coldly and lost himself in no lofty +flights of imagination. It was better that he should enjoy what fell in +his way in at least seeing Mrs. Goddard and possessing her friendship, +than that he should go out of his course in order to marry merely for the +sake of marrying. He had seen so much of the active side of life that he +was well prepared to revel in the peace which had fallen to his lot. He +cared little whether he left an heir to the park; there were others of +the name, and since the park had furnished matter for litigation during +forty years before he came into possession of it, it might supply the +lawyers with fees for forty years more after his death, for all he cared. +It would have been very desirable to marry Mrs. Goddard if it had been +possible, but since the thing could not be done at present it was best to +submit with a good grace. Since the day when his suit had suddenly come +to grief in the discovery of her real position, Mr. Juxon had +philosophically said to himself that he had perhaps been premature in +making his proposal, and that it was as well that it could not have been +accepted; perhaps she would not have made him a good wife; perhaps he had +deceived himself in thinking that because he liked her and desired her +friendship he really wished to marry her; perhaps all was for the best in +the best of all possible worlds, after all and in spite of all. + +But these reflections, which tended to soothe the squire's annoyance at +the failure of a scheme which he had contemplated with so much delight, +did not prevent him from feeling the most sincere sympathy for Mrs. +Goddard, nor from constantly wishing that he could devise some plan for +helping her. She seemed never to have thought of divorcing herself from +her husband. The squire was not sure whether such a thing were possible; +he doubted it, and promised himself that he would get a lawyer's opinion +upon the matter. He believed that English law did not grant divorces on +account of the husband's being sentenced to any limited period of penal +servitude. But in any case it would be a very delicate subject to +approach, and Mr. Juxon amused himself by constructing conversations in +his mind which should lead up to this point without wounding poor Mrs. +Goddard's sensibilities. He was the kindest of men; he would not for +worlds have said a word which should recall to her that memorable day +when she had told him her story. And yet it would be quite impossible to +broach such a scheme without going at once into all the details of the +chief cause of her sorrows. The consequence was that in the windings of +his imagination the squire found himself perpetually turning in a vicious +circle; but since the exercise concerned Mrs. Goddard and her welfare it +was not uncongenial. He founded all his vague hopes upon one expression +she had used. When in making his proposal he had spoken of her as being a +widow, she had said, "Would to God that I were!" She had said it with +such vehemence that he had felt sure that if she had indeed been a widow +her answer to himself would have been favourable. Men easily retain such +impressions received in moments of great excitement, and found hopes upon +them. + +So the days had gone by and the squire had thought much but had come to +no conclusion. On the morning when Walter Goddard crept into the disused +vault at the back of the church, the squire awoke from his sleep at his +usual early hour. He was not in a very good humour, if so equable a man +could be said to be subject to such weaknesses as humours. The weather +was very depressing--day after day brought only more rain, more wind, +more mud, more of everything disagreeable. The previous evening had been +unusually dull. He was never weary of being with Mary Goddard, but +occasionally, when the Ambroses were present, the conversation became +oppressive. Mr. Juxon almost wished that John Short would come back and +cause a diversion. His views concerning John had undergone some change +since he had discovered that nobody could marry Mrs. Goddard because she +was married already. He believed he could watch John's efforts to attract +her attention with indifference now, or if without indifference with a +charitable forbearance. John at least would help to make conversation, +and the conversation on the previous evening had been intolerably +wearisome. Almost unconsciously, since the chief interest and hope of his +daily life had been removed the squire began to long for a change; he +had been a wanderer by profession during thirty years of his life and he +was perhaps not yet old enough to settle into that absolute indifference +to novelty which seems to characterise retired sailors. + +But as he brushed his smooth hair and combed his beard that morning, +neither change nor excitement were very far from him. He looked over his +dressing-glass at the leafless oaks of the park, at the grey sky and the +driving rain and he wished something would happen. He wished somebody +might die and leave a great library to be sold, that he might indulge +his favourite passion; he wished he had somebody stopping in the Hall--he +almost decided to send and ask the vicar to come to lunch and have a day +among the books. As he entered the breakfast-room at precisely half-past +eight o'clock, according to his wont, the butler informed him that Mr. +Gall, the village constable, was below and wanted to see him after +breakfast. He received the news in silence and sat down to eat his +breakfast and read the morning paper. Gall had probably come about some +petty summons, or to ask what he should do about the small boys who threw +stones at the rooks and broke the church windows. After finishing his +meal and his paper in the leisurely manner peculiar to country gentlemen +who have nothing to do, the squire rang the bell, sent for the policeman +and went into his study, a small room adjoining the library. + +Thomas Gall, constable, was a tall fair man with a mild eye and a +cheerful face. Goodwill towards men and plentiful good living had done +their work in eradicating from the good man all that stern element which +might have been most useful to him in his career, not to say useful to +the State. Each rolling year was pricked in his leathern belt with a new +hole as his heart grew more peaceful and his body throve. He had a goodly +girth and weighed full fifteen stone in his uniform; his mild blue eye +had inspired confidence in a maiden of Billingsfield parish and Mrs. Gall +was now rearing a numerous family of little Galls, all perhaps destined +to become mild-eyed and portly village constables in their turn. + +The squire, who was not destitute of a sense of humour, never thought of +Mr. Gall without a smile, so much out of keeping did the man's occupation +seem with his jovial humour. Mr. Gall, he said, was the kind of policeman +who would bribe a refractory tramp to move on by the present of a pint of +beer. But Gall had a good point. He was very proud of his profession, and +in the exercise of it he showed a discretion which, if it was the better +part of his valour, argued unlimited natural courage. It was a secret +profession, he was wont to say, and a man who could not keep a secret +would never do for a constable. He shrouded his ways in an amiable +mystery and walked a solitary beat on fine nights; when the nights were +not fine there was nobody to see whether he walked his beat or not. +Probably, he faithfully fulfilled his obligations; but his constitution +seemed to bear exposure to the weather wonderfully well. Whether he ever +saw anything worth mentioning upon those lonely walks of his, is +uncertain; at all events he never mentioned anything he saw, unless it +was in the secrecy of the reports he was supposed to transmit from time +to time to his superiors. + +On the present occasion as he entered the study, the squire observed with +surprise that he looked grave. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon +before and argued that it was just possible that something of real +importance might have occurred. + +"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Gall, approaching the squire respectfully, +after carefully closing the door behind him. + +"Good morning, Gall. Nothing wrong, I hope?" + +"Not yet, sir. I hope not, sir. Only a little matter of business, Mr. +Juxon. In point of fact, sir, I wished to consult you." + +"Yes," said the squire who was used to the constable's method of +circumlocution. "Yes--what is it?" + +"Well, sir--it's this," said the policeman, running his thumb round the +inside of his belt as though to test the pressure, and clearing his +throat. "There has been a general order sent down to be on the lookout, +sir. So I thought it would be best to take your opinion." + +"My opinion," said the squire with great gravity, "is that if you are +directed to be on the look-out, you should be on the look-out; by all +means. What are you to be on the look-out for?" + +"In point of fact, sir," said the constable, lowering his voice, "we are +informed that a criminal has escaped from Portland. I never heard of a +convict getting out of that strong'old o' the law, sir, and I would like +to have your opinion upon it." + +"But if you are informed that some one has escaped," remarked the squire, +"you had better take it for granted that it is true." + +"Juss so, sir. But the circumstances wasn't communicated to us, sir; so +we don't know." + +Mr. Gall paused, and the squire smoothed his hair a little. + +"Well, Gall," said Mr. Juxon, "have you any reason for believing that +this escaped convict is likely to come this way?" + +"Well sir, there is some evidence," answered the policeman, mysteriously. +"Leastways what seems like evidence to me, sir." + +"Of what kind?" the squire fixed his quiet eyes on Mr. Gall's face. + +"His name, sir. The name of the convict. There is a party of that name +residin' here." + +The squire suddenly guessed what was coming, or at least a possibility of +it crossed his mind. If Mr. Gall had been a more observant man he would +have seen that Mr. Juxon grew a shade paler and changed one leg over the +other as he sat. But in that moment he had time to nerve himself for the +worst. + +"And what is the name, if you please?" he asked calmly. + +"The name in the general orders is Goddard, sir--Walter Goddard. He was +convicted of forgery three years ago, sir, a regular bad lot. But +discretion is recommended in the orders, sir, as the business is not +wanted to get into the papers." + +The squire was ready. If Gall did not know that Mary Goddard was the wife +of the convict Walter, he should certainly not find it out. In any other +country of Europe that would have been the first fact communicated to the +local police. Very likely, thought Mr. Juxon, nobody knew it. + +"I do not see," he said very slowly, "that the fact of there being a Mrs. +Goddard residing here in the least proves that she is any relation to +this criminal. The name is not so uncommon as that, you know." + +"Nor I either, sir. In point of fact, sir, I was only thinking. It's what +you may call a striking coincidence, that's all." + +"It would have been a still more striking coincidence if his name had +been Juxon like mine, or Ambrose like the vicar's," said the squire +calmly. "There are other people of the name in England, and the local +policemen will be warned to be on the lookout. If this fellow was called +Juxon instead of Goddard, Gall, would you be inclined to think he was a +relation of mine?" + +"Oh no, sir. Ha! ha! Very good sir! Very good indeed! No indeed, sir, and +she such a real lady too!" + +"Well then, I do not see that you can do anything more than keep a sharp +look-out. I suppose they sent you some kind of description?" + +"Well, yes. There was a kind of a description as you say, sir, but I'm +not anyways sure of recognising the party by it. In point of fact, sir, +the description says the convict is a fair man." + +"Is that all?" + +"Neither particular tall, nor yet particular short, sir. Not a very big +'un nor a very little 'un, sir. In point of fact, sir, a fair man. Clean +shaved and close cropped he is, sir, being a criminal." + +"I hope you may recognise him by that account," said the squire, +suppressing a smile. "I don't believe I should." + +"Well, sir, it does say as he's a fair man," remarked the constable. + +"Supposing he blacked his face and passed for a chimney-sweep?" suggested +the squire. The idea seemed to unsettle Gall's views. + +"In that case, sir, I don't know as I should know him, for certain," he +answered. + +"Probably not--probably not, Gall. And judging from the account they have +sent you I don't think you would be to blame." + +"Leastways it can't be said as I've failed to carry out superior +instructions," replied Mr. Gall, proudly. "Then it's your opinion, sir, +that I'd better keep a sharp look-out? Did I understand you to say so, +sir?" + +"Quite so," returned the squire with great calmness. "By all means keep a +sharp look-out, and be careful to be discreet, as the orders instruct +you." + +"You may trust me for that, sir," said the policeman, who dearly loved +the idea of mysterious importance. "Then I wish you good morning, sir." +He prepared to go. + +"Good morning, Gall--good morning. The butler will give you some ale." + +Again Mr. Gall passed his thumb round the inside of his belt, testing the +local pressure in anticipation of a pint. He made a sort of half-military +salute at the door and went out. When the squire was alone he rose from +his chair and paced the room, giving way to the agitation he had +concealed in the presence of the constable. He was very much disturbed at +the news of Goddard's escape, as well he might be. Not that he was aware +that the convict knew of his wife's whereabouts; he did not even suppose +that Goddard could ascertain for some time where she was living, still +less that he would boldly present himself in Billingsfield. But it was +bad enough to know that the man was again at large. So long as he was +safely lodged in prison, Mrs. Goddard was herself safe; but if once he +regained his liberty and baffled the police he would certainly end by +finding out Mary's address and there was no telling to what annoyance, +to what danger, to what sufferings she might be exposed. Here was a new +interest, indeed, and one which promised to afford the squire occupation +until the fellow was caught. + +Mr. Juxon knew that he was right in putting the policeman off the track +in regard to Mrs. Goddard. He himself was a better detective than Gall, +for he went daily to the cottage and if anything was wrong there, was +quite sure to discover it. If Goddard ever made his way to Billingsfield +it could only be for the purpose of seeing his wife, and if he succeeded +in this, Mrs. Goddard could not conceal it from the squire. She was a +nervous woman who could not hide her emotions; she would find herself in +a terrible difficulty and she would perhaps turn to her friend for +assistance. If Mr. Juxon could lay his hands on Goddard, he flattered +himself he was much more able to arrest a desperate man than mild-eyed +Policeman Gall. He had not been at sea for thirty years in vain, and in +his time he had handled many a rough customer. He debated however upon +the course he should pursue. As in his opinion it was unlikely that +Goddard would find out his wife for some time, and improbable that he +would waste such precious time in looking for her, it seemed far from +advisable to warn her that the felon had escaped. On the other hand he +mistrusted his own judgment; if she were not prepared it was just +possible that the man should come upon her unawares, and the shock of +seeing him might be very much worse than the shock of being told that he +was at large. He might consult the vicar. + +At first, the old feeling that it would be disloyal to Mrs. Goddard even +to hint to Mr. Ambrose that he was acquainted with her story withheld him +from pursuing such a course. But as he turned the matter over in his mind +it seemed to him that since it was directly for her good, he would now be +justified in speaking. He liked the vicar and he trusted him. He knew +that the vicar had been a good friend to Mrs. Goddard and that he would +stand by her in any difficulty so far as he might be able. The real +question was how to make sure that the vicar should not tell his wife. If +Mrs. Ambrose had the least suspicion that anything unusual was occurring, +she would naturally try and extract information from her husband, and she +would probably be successful; women, the squire thought, very generally +succeed in operations of that kind. But if once Mr. Ambrose could be +consulted without arousing his wife's suspicions, he was a man to be +trusted. Thereupon Mr. Juxon wrote a note to the vicar, saying that he +had something of great interest to show him, and begging that, if not +otherwise engaged, he would come up to the Hall to lunch. When he had +despatched his messenger, being a man of his word, he went into the +library to hunt for some rare volume or manuscript which the vicar had +not yet seen, and which might account in a spirit of rigid veracity for +the excuse he had given. Meanwhile, as he turned over his rare and +curious folios he debated further upon his conduct; but having once made +up his mind to consult Mr. Ambrose, he determined to tell him boldly what +had occurred, after receiving from him a promise of secrecy. The +messenger brought back word that the vicar would be delighted to come, +and at the hour named the sound of wheels upon the gravel announced the +arrival of Strawberry, the old mare, drawing behind her the vicar and his +aged henchman, Reynolds, in the traditional vicarage dogcart. A moment +later the vicar entered the library. + +"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire inhospitable +tones. "I have something to show you and I have something to say to you." +The two shook hands heartily. Independently of kindred scholarly tastes, +they were sympathetic to each other and were always glad to meet. + +"It is just the weather for bookworms," answered the vicar in cheerful +tones. "Dear me, I never come here without envying you and wishing that +life were one long rainy afternoon." + +"You know I am inclined to think I am rather an enviable person," said +Mr. Juxon, slowly passing his hand over his glossy hair and leading his +guest towards a large table near the fire. Several volumes lay together +upon the polished mahogany. The squire laid his hand on one of them. + +"I have not deceived you," he said. "That is a very interesting volume. +It is the black letter Paracelsus I once spoke of. I have succeeded in +getting it at last." + +"Dear me! What a piece of fortune!" said Mr. Ambrose bending down until +his formidable nose almost touched the ancient page. + +"Yes," said the squire, "uncommonly lucky as usual. Now, excuse my +abruptness in changing the subject--I want to consult you upon an +important matter." + +The vicar looked up quickly with that vague, faraway expression which +comes into the eyes of a student when he is suddenly called away from +contemplating some object of absorbing interest. + +"Certainly," he said, "certainly--a--by all means." + +"It is about Mrs. Goddard," said the squire, looking hard at his visitor. +"Of course it is between ourselves," he added. + +The vicar's long upper lip descended upon its fellow and he bent his +rough grey eyebrows, returning Mr. Juxon's sharp look with interest. He +could not imagine what the squire could have to say about Mrs. Goddard, +unless, like poor John, he had fallen in love with her and wanted to +marry her; which appeared improbable. + +"What is it?" he said sharply. + +"I daresay you do not know that I am acquainted with her story," began +Mr. Juxon. "Do not be surprised. She saw fit to tell it me herself." + +"Indeed?" exclaimed the vicar in considerable astonishment. In that case, +he argued quickly, Mr. Juxon was not thinking of marrying her. + +"Yes--it is not necessary to go into that," said Mr. Juxon quickly. "The +thing I want to tell you is this--Goddard the forger has escaped--" + +"Escaped?" echoed the vicar in real alarm. "You don't mean to say so!" + +"Gall the constable came here this morning," continued Mr. Juxon. "He +told me that there were general orders out for his arrest." + +"How in the world did he get out?" cried the vicar. "I thought nobody was +ever known to escape from Portland!" + +"So did I. But this fellow has--somehow. Gall did not know. Now, the +question is, what is to be done?" + +"I am sure I don't know," returned the vicar, thrusting his hands into +his pockets and marching to the window, the wide skirts of his coat +seeming to wave with agitation as he walked. + +Mr. Juxon also put his hands into his pockets, but he stood still upon +the hearth-rug and looked at the ceiling, softly whistling a little tune, +a habit he had in moments of great anxiety. For three or four minutes +neither of the two spoke. + +"Would you tell Mrs. Goddard--or not?" asked Mr. Juxon at last. + +"I don't know," said the vicar. "I am amazed beyond measure." He turned +and slowly came back to the table. + +"I don't know either," replied the squire. "That is precisely the point +upon which I think we ought to decide. I have known about the story for +some time, but I did not anticipate that it would take this turn." + +"I think," said Mr. Ambrose after another pause, "I think that if there +is any likelihood of the fellow finding her out, we ought to tell her. If +not I think we had better wait until he is caught. He is sure to be +caught, of course." + +"I entirely agree with you," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only--how on earth are +we to find out whether he is likely to come here or not? If any one knows +where he is, he is as good as caught already. If nobody knows, we can +certainly have no means of telling." + +The argument was unanswerable. Again there was a long silence. The vicar +walked about the room in great perplexity. + +"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible business!" he repeated, over and over +again. + +"Do you think we are called upon to do anything?" he asked at last, +stopping in his walk immediately in front of Mr. Juxon. + +"If we can do anything to save Mrs. Goddard from annoyance or further +trouble, we are undoubtedly called upon to do it," replied the squire. +"If that wretch finds her out, he will try to break into the cottage at +night and force her to give him money." + +"Do you really think so? Dear me! I hope he will do no such thing!" + +"So do I, I am sure," said Mr. Juxon, with a grim smile. "But if he finds +her out, he will. I almost think it would be better to tell her in any +case." + +"But think of the anxiety she will be in until he is caught!" cried the +vicar. "She will be expecting him every day--every night. Well--I suppose +we might tell Gall to watch the house." + +"That will not do," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be a great injustice +to allow Gall or any of the people in the village to know anything about +her. She might be subjected to all kinds of insult. You know what these +people are. A 'real lady,' who is at the same time the wife of a convict, +is a thing they can hardly understand. I am sure both you and I secretly +flatter ourselves that we have shown an unusual amount of good sense and +generosity in understanding her position as we do." + +"I daresay we do," said the vicar with a smile. He was too honest to deny +it. "Indeed it took me some time to get used to the idea myself." + +"Precisely. The village people would never get used to it. Of all things +to do, we should certainly not tell Gall, who is an old woman and a great +chatterbox. I wish you could have heard his statement this morning--it +filled me with admiration for the local police, I assure you. But--I +think it would be better to tell her. I did not think so before you came, +I believe. But talking always brings the truth out." + +The vicar hesitated, rising and falling upon his toes and heels in +profound thought, after his manner. + +"I daresay you are right," he said at last. "Will you do it? Or shall I?" + +"I would rather not," said the squire, thoughtfully. "You know her +better, you have known her much longer than I." + +"But she will ask me where I heard of it," objected the vicar. "I shall +be obliged to say that you told me. That will be as bad as though you +told her yourself." + +"You need not say you heard it from me. You can say that Gall has +received instructions to look out for Goddard. She will not question you +any further, I am sure." + +"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Juxon," said the vicar. + +"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire, +almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little. + +"Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon. + +"Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose. + +"Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter, +you see." + +"Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!" + +"Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done." + +"Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that +his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office. + +"Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have +the matter decided. + +"Why not go together?" suggested the vicar. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the +poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs. +Ambrose--" + +"Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile. + +"Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did, +and was very much surprised at the result. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the +cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be +of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they +had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter +Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare +volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host +believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting +to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either. + +The weather had suddenly changed; the east was already clear and over the +west, where the sun was setting in a fiery mist, the huge clouds were +banked up against the bright sky, fringed with red and purple, but no +longer threatening rain or snow. The air was sharp and the plentiful mud +in the roads was already crusted with a brittle casing of ice. + +The squire took leave of Mr. Ambrose at the turning where the road led +into the village and then walked back to the cottage. Even his solid +nerves were a little unsettled at the prospect of the interview +before him; but he kept a stout heart and asked for Mrs. Goddard in his +usual quiet voice. Martha told him that Mrs. Goddard had a bad headache, +but on inquiry found that she would see the squire. He entered the +drawing-room softly and went forward to greet her; she was sitting in a +deep chair propped by cushions. + +Mary Goddard had spent a miserable day. The grey morning light seemed to +reveal her troubles and fears in a new and more terrible aspect. During +the long hours of darkness it seemed as though those things were +mercifully hidden which the strong glare of day must inevitably reveal, +and when the night was fairly past she thought all the world must surely +know that Walter Goddard had escaped and that his wife had seen him. +Hourly she expected a ringing at the bell, announcing the visit of a +party of detectives on his track; every sound startled her and her nerves +were strung to such a pitch that she heard with supernatural acuteness. +She had indeed two separate causes for fear. The one was due to her +anxiety for Goddard's safety; the other to her apprehensions for Nellie. +She had long determined that at all hazards the child must be kept from +the knowledge of her father's disgrace, by being made to believe in his +death. It was a falsehood indeed, but such a falsehood as may surely be +forgiven to a woman as unhappy as Mary Goddard. It seemed monstrous that +the innocent child, who seemed not even to have inherited her father's +looks or temper, should be brought up with the perpetual sense of her +disgrace before her, should be forced to listen to explanations of her +father's crimes and tutored to the comprehension of an inherited shame. +From the first Mary Goddard had concealed the whole matter from the +little girl, and when Walter was at last convicted, she had told her that +her father was dead. Dead he might be, she thought, before twelve years +were out, and Nellie would be none the wiser. In twelve years from the +time of his conviction Nellie would be in her twenty-first year; if it +were ever necessary to tell her, it would be time enough then, for the +girl would have at least enjoyed her youth, free of care and of the +horrible consciousness of a great crime hanging over her head. No child +could grow up in such a state as that implied. No mind could develop +healthily under the perpetual pressure of so hideous a secret; from her +earliest childhood her impressions would be warped, her imagination +darkened and her mental growth stunted. It would be a great cruelty to +tell her the truth; it was a great mercy to tell her the falsehood. It +was no selfish timidity which had prompted Mary Goddard, but a carefully +weighed consideration for the welfare of her child. + +If now, within these twenty-four hours, Nellie should discover who the +poor tramp was, who had frightened her so much on the previous evening, +all this would be at an end. The child's life would be made desolate for +ever. She would never recover from the shock, and to injure lovely Nellie +so bitterly would be worse to Mary Goddard than to be obliged to bear the +sharpest suffering herself. For, from the day when she had waked to a +comprehension of her husband's baseness, the love for her child had taken +in her breast the place of the love for Walter. + +She did not think connectedly; she did not realise her fears; she was +almost wholly unstrung. But she had procured the fifty pounds her husband +required and she waited for the night with a dull hope that all might yet +be well--as well as anything so horrible could be. If only her husband +were not caught in Billingsfield it would not be so bad, perhaps. And yet +it may be that her wisest course would have been to betray him that very +night. Many just men would have said so; but there are few women who +would do it. There are few indeed, so stonyhearted as to betray a man +once loved in such a case; and Mary Goddard in her wildest fear never +dreamed of giving up the fugitive. She sat all day in her chair, wishing +that the day were over, praying that she might be spared any further +suffering or that at least it might be spared to her child whom she so +loved. She had sent Nellie down to the vicarage with Martha. Mrs. Ambrose +loved Nellie better than she loved Nellie's mother, and there was a +standing invitation for her to spend the afternoons at the vicarage. +Nellie said her mother had a terrible headache and wanted to be alone. + +But when the squire came Mrs. Goddard thought it wiser to see him. She +had, of course, no intention of confiding to him an account of the events +of the previous night, but she felt that if she could talk to him for +half an hour she would be stronger. He was himself so strong and honest +that he inspired her with courage. She knew, also, that if she were +driven to the extremity of confiding in any one she would choose Mr. +Juxon rather than Mr. Ambrose. The vicar had been her first friend and +she owed him much; but the squire had won her confidence by his noble +generosity after she had told him her story. She said to herself that he +was more of a man than the vicar. And now he had come to her at the time +of her greatest distress, and she was glad to see him. + +Mr. Juxon entered the room softly, feeling that he was in the presence of +a sick person. Mrs. Goddard turned her pathetic face towards him and held +out her hand. + +"I am so glad to see you," she said, trying to seem cheerful. + +"I fear you are ill, Mrs. Goddard," answered the squire, looking at her +anxiously and then seating himself by her side. "Martha told me you had a +headache--I hope it is not serious." + +"Oh no--not serious. Only a headache," she said with a smile so unlike +her own that Mr. Juxon began to feel nervous. His resolution to tell her +his errand began to waver; it seemed cruel, he thought, to disturb a +person who was evidently so ill with a matter so serious. He remembered +that she had almost fainted on a previous occasion when she had spoken to +him of her husband. She had not been ill then; there was no knowing what +the effect of a shock to her nerves might be at present. He sat still in +silence for some moments, twisting his hat upon his knee. + +"Do not be disturbed about me," said Mrs. Goddard presently. "It will +pass very quickly. I shall be quite well to-morrow--I hope," she added +with a shudder. + +"I am very much disturbed about you," returned Mr. Juxon in an unusually +grave tone. Mrs. Goddard looked at him quickly, and was surprised when +she saw the expression on his face. He looked sad, and at the same time +perplexed. + +"Oh, pray don't be!" she exclaimed as though deprecating further remark +upon her ill health. + +"I wish I knew," said the squire with some hesitation, "whether--whether +you are really very ill. I mean, of course, I know you have a bad +headache, a very bad headache, as I can see. But--indeed, Mrs. Goddard, I +have something of importance to say." + +"Something of importance?" she repeated, staring hard at him. + +"Yes--but it will keep till to-morrow, if you would rather not hear it +now," he replied, looking at her doubtfully. + +"I would rather hear it now," she answered after some seconds of silence. +Her heart beat fast. + +"You were good enough some time ago to tell me about--Mr. Goddard," began +Mr. Juxon in woeful trepidation. + +"Yes," answered his companion under her breath. Her hands were clasped +tightly together upon her knees and her eyes sought the squire's +anxiously and then looked away again in fear. + +"Well, it is about him," continued Mr. Juxon in a gentle voice. "Would +you rather put it off? It is--well, rather startling." + +Mrs. Goddard closed her eyes, like a person expecting to suffer some +terrible pain. She thought Mr. Juxon was going to tell her that Walter +had been captured in the village. + +"Mr. Goddard has escaped," said the squire, making a bold plunge with the +whole truth. The sick lady trembled violently, and unclasping her hands +laid them upon the arms of her chair as though to steady herself to bear +the worse shock to come. But Mr. Juxon was silent. He had told her all he +knew. + +"Yes," she said faintly. "Is there anything--anything more?" Her voice +was barely audible in the still and dusky room. + +"No--except that, of course, there are orders out for his arrest, all +over the country." + +"He has not been arrested yet?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She had expected to +hear that he was caught; she thought the squire was trying to break the +shock of the news. Her courage rose a little now. + +"No, he is not arrested--but I have no doubt he soon will be," added Mr. +Juxon in a tone intended to convey encouragement. + +"How did you hear this?" + +"Gall the policeman, told me this morning. I--I am afraid I have +something else to confess to you, Mrs. Goddard, I trust you will not--" + +"What?" she asked so suddenly as to startle him. Walter might have been +heard of in the neighbourhood, perhaps. + +"I think I was right," continued Mr. Juxon. "I hope you will forgive me. +It does not seem quite loyal, but I did not know what to do. I consulted +the vicar as to whether we should tell you." + +"The vicar? What did he say?" Again Mrs. Goddard felt relieved. + +"He quite agreed with me," answered the squire. "You see we feared that +Mr. Goddard might find his way here and come upon you suddenly. We +thought you would be terribly pained and startled." + +Mrs. Goddard could almost have laughed at that moment. The excellent man +had taken all this trouble in order to save her from the very thing which +had already occurred on the previous night. There was a bitter humour in +the situation, in the squire's kind-hearted way of breaking to her that +news which she already knew so well, in his willingness to put off +telling her until the morrow. What would Mr. Juxon say, could he guess +that she had herself already spoken with her husband and had promised to +see him again that very night! Forgetting that his last words required an +answer, she leaned back in her chair and again folded her hands before +her. Her eyes were half closed and from beneath the drooping lids she +gazed through the gathering gloom at the squire's anxious face. + +"I hope you think I did right," said the latter in considerable doubt. + +"Quite right. I think you were both very kind to think of me as you did," +said she. + +"I am sure, I always think of you," answered Mr. Juxon simply. "I hope +that this thing will have no further consequences. Of course, until we +know of Mr. Goddard's whereabouts we shall feel very anxious. It seems +probable that if he can get here unobserved he will do so. He will +probably ask you for some money." + +"Do you really think he could get here at all?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She +wanted to hear what he would say, for she thought she might judge from +his words whether her husband ran any great risk. + +"Oh no," replied the squire. "I think it is very improbable. I fear this +news has sadly disturbed you, Mrs. Goddard, but let us hope all may turn +out for the best." Indeed he thought she showed very little surprise, +though she had evidently been much moved. Perhaps she had been accustomed +to expect that her husband might one day escape. She was ill, too, and +her nerves were unstrung, he supposed. + +She had really passed through a very violent emotion, but it had not been +caused by her surprise, but by her momentary fear for the fugitive, +instantly allayed by Mr. Juxon's explanation. She felt that for to-day at +least Walter was safe, and by to-morrow he would be safe out of the +neighbourhood. But she reflected that it was necessary to say something; +that if she appeared to receive the news too indifferently the squire's +suspicions might be aroused with fatal results. + +"It is a terrible thing," she said presently. "You see I am not at all +myself." + +It was not easy for her to act a part. The words were commonplace. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon, "I see you are not." He on his part, instead of +looking for a stronger expression of fear or astonishment, was now only +too glad that she should be so calm. + +"Would you advise me to do anything?" she asked presently. + +"There is nothing to be done," he answered quickly, glad of a chance to +relieve the embarrassment of the situation. "Of course we might put you +under the protection of the police but--what is the matter, Mrs. +Goddard?" She had started as though in pain. + +"Only this dreadful headache," she said. "Go on please." + +"Well, we might set Gall the policeman to watch your house; but that +would be very unpleasant for you. It would be like telling him and all +the village people of your situation--" + +"Oh don't! Please don't!" + +"No, certainly not. I think it very unwise. Besides--" he stopped short. +He was about to say that he felt much better able to watch over Mrs. +Goddard himself than Gall the constable could possibly be; but he checked +himself in time. + +"Besides--what?" she asked. + +"Nothing--Gall is not much of a policeman, that is all. I do not believe +you would be any the safer for his protection. But you must promise me, +my dear Mrs. Goddard, that if anything occurs you will let me know. I may +be of some assistance." + +"Thank you, so much," said she. "You are always so kind!" + +"Not at all. I am very glad if you think I was right to tell you about +it." + +"Oh, quite right," she answered. "And now, Mr. Juxon, I am really not at +all well. All this has quite unnerved me--" + +"You want me to go?" said the squire smiling kindly as he rose. "Yes, I +understand. Well, good-bye, my dear friend--I hope everything will +clear up." + +"Good-bye. Thank you again. You always do understand me," she answered +giving him her small cold hand. "Don't think me ungrateful," she added, +looking up into his eyes. + +"No indeed--not that there is anything to be grateful for." + +In a moment more he was gone, feeling that he had done his duty like a +man, and that it had not been so hard after all. He was glad it was done, +however, and he felt that he could face the vicar with a bold front at +their next meeting. He went quickly down the path and crossed the road to +his own gate with a light step. As he entered the park he was not aware +of a wretched-looking tramp who slouched along the quickset hedge and +watched his retreating figure far up the avenue, till he was out of sight +among the leafless trees. If Stamboul had been with the squire the tramp +would certainly not have passed unnoticed; but for some days the roads +had been so muddy that Stamboul had been left behind when Mr. Juxon made +his visits to the cottage, lest the great hound should track the mud into +the spotless precincts of the passage. The tramp stood still and looked +after the squire so long as he could see him, and then slunk off across +the wet meadows, where the standing water was now skimmed with ice. + +Walter Goddard had spent the day in watching for the squire and he had +seen him at last. He had seen him go down the road with the vicar till +they were both out of sight, and he had seen him come back and enter the +cottage. This proceeding, he argued, betrayed that the squire did not +wish to be seen going into Mary's house by the vicar. The tortuous +intelligences of bad men easily impute to others courses which they +themselves would naturally pursue. Three words on the previous evening +had sufficed to rouse the convict's jealousy. What he saw to-day +confirmed his suspicions. The gentleman in knickerbockers could be no +other than the squire himself, of course. He was evidently in the habit +of visiting Mary Goddard and he did not wish his visits to be observed by +the clergyman, who was of course the vicar or rector of the parish. That +proved conclusively in the fugitive's mind that there was something +wrong. He ground his teeth together and said to himself that it would be +worth while to run some risk in order to stop that little game, as he +expressed it. He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered +one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he +had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be +caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex. It would be a great +satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther. +Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at +the back of the church. He discovered loose stones inside the place which +he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance. +Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very +existence of the vault was most likely forgotten. It was not a cheerful +place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach +of supernatural fears. Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the +future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present. The vault +was comparatively dry and was in every way preferable, as a resting-place +for one night, to the interior of a mouldy haystack in the open fields. +He did not dare show himself again at the "Feathers" inn, lest he should +be held to do the day's work he had promised in payment for his night in +the barn. All that morning and afternoon he had lain hidden in the +quickset hedge near the park gate, within sight of the cottage, and he +had been rewarded. The food he had taken with him the night before had +sufficed him and he had quenched his thirst with rain-water from the +ditch. Having seen that the squire went back towards the Hall, Goddard +slunk away to his hiding-place to wait for the night. He lay down as best +he might, and listened for the hours and half-hours as the church clock +tolled them out from the lofty tower above. + +Mary Goddard had told him to come later than before, and it was after +half-past ten when he tapped upon the shutter of the little drawing-room. +All was dark within, and he held his breath as he stood among the wet +creepers, listening intently for the sound of his wife's coming. +Presently the glass window inside was opened. + +"Is that you?" asked Mary's voice in a tremulous whisper. + +"Yes," he answered. "Let me in." Then the shutter was cautiously +unfastened and opened a little and in the dim starlight Goddard +recognised his wife's pale face. Her hand went out to him, with something +in it. + +"There is the money," she whispered. "Go as quickly as you can. They are +looking for you--there are orders out to arrest you." + +Goddard seized her fingers and took the money. She would have withdrawn +her hand but he held it firmly. + +"Who told you that they were after me?" he asked in a fierce whisper. + +"Mr. Juxon--let me go." + +"Mr. Juxon!" The convict uttered a rough oath. "Your friend Mr. Juxon, +eh? He is after me, is he? Tell him--" + +"Hush, hush!" she whispered. "He has no idea you are here--" + +"I should think not," muttered Walter. "He would not be sneaking in here +on the sly to see you if he knew I were about!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Mary. "Oh, Walter, let me go--you hurt me so!" +He held her fingers as in a vice. + +"Hurt you! I wish I could strangle you and him too! Ha, you thought I was +not looking this afternoon when he came! He went to the corner of the +road with the parson, and when the parson was out of sight he came back! +I saw you!" + +"You saw nothing!" answered his wife desperately. "How can you say so! If +you knew how kind he has been, what a loyal gentleman he is, you would +not dare to say such things." + +"You used to say I was a loyal gentleman, Mary," retorted the convict. "I +daresay he is of the same stamp as I. Look here, Mary, if I catch this +loyal gentleman coming here any more I will cut his throat--so look out!" + +"You do not mean to say you are going to remain here any longer, in +danger of your life?" said Mary in great alarm. + +"Well--a man can only hang once. Give me some more of that bread and +cheese, Mary. It was exceedingly good." + +"Then let me go," said his wife, trembling with horror at the threat she +had just heard. + +"Oh yes. I will let you go. But I will just hold the window open in case +you don't come back soon enough. Look sharp!" + +There was no need to hurry the unfortunate woman. In less than three +minutes she returned, bringing a "quartern" loaf and a large piece of +cheese. She thrust them out upon the window-sill and withdrew her hand +before he could catch it. But he held the window open. + +"Now go!" she said. "I cannot do more for you--for God's sake go!" + +"You seem very anxious to see the last of me," he whispered. "I daresay +if I am hanged you will get a ticket to see me turned off. Yes--we +mention those things rather freely up in town. Don't be alarmed. I will +come back to-morrow night--you had better listen. If you had shown a +little more heart, I would have been satisfied, but you are so stony that +I think I would like another fifty pounds to-morrow night. Those notes +are so deliciously crisp--" + +"Listen, Walter!" said Mary. "Unless you promise to go I will raise an +alarm at once. I can face shame again well enough. I will have you--hush! +For God's sake--hush! There is somebody coming!" + +The convict's quick ear had caught the sound. Instantly he knelt and then +lay down at full length upon the ground below the window. It was a fine +night and the conscientious Mr. Gall was walking his beat. The steady +tramp of his heavy shoes had something ominous in it which struck terror +into the heart of the wretched fugitive. With measured tread he came from +the direction of the village. Reaching the cottage he paused and dimly in +the starlight Mrs. Goddard could distinguish his glazed hat--the +provincial constabulary still wore hats in those days. Mr. Gall stood not +fifteen yards from the cottage, failed to observe that a window was +open on the lower floor, nodded to himself as though satisfied with his +inspection and walked on. Little by little the sound of his steps grew +fainter in the distance. Walter slowly raised himself again from the +ground, and put his head in at the window. + +"You see it would not be hard to have you caught," whispered his wife, +still breathless with the passing excitement. "That was the policeman. If +I had called him, it would have been all over with you. I tell you if you +try to come again I will give you up." + +"Oh, that's the way you treat me, is it?" said the convict with another +oath. "Then you had better look out for your dear Mr. Juxon, that's all." + +Without another word, Goddard glided away from the window, let himself +out by the wicket gate and disappeared across the road. + +Mary Goddard was in that moment less horrified by her husband's threat +than by his base ingratitude to herself and by the accusation he seemed +to make against her. Worn out with the emotions of fear and anxiety, she +had barely the strength to close and fasten the window. Then she sank +into the first chair she could find in the dark and stared into the +blackness around her. It seemed indeed more than she could bear. She was +placed in the terrible position of being obliged to betray her fugitive +husband, or of living in constant fear lest he should murder the best +friend she had in the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +On the morning after the events last described Mr. Ambrose sat at +breakfast opposite his wife. The early post had just arrived, bringing +the usual newspaper and two letters. + +"Any news, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with great suavity, as she +rinsed her teacup in the bowl preparatory to repeating the dose. "Is not +it time that we should hear from John?" + +"There is a letter from him, strange to say. Wait a minute--my dear, the +Tripos is over and he wants to know if he may stop here--" + +"The Tripos over already! How has he done? Do tell me, Augustin!" + +"He does not know," returned the vicar, quickly looking over the +contents of the letter. "The lists are not out--he thinks he has done +very well--he has had a hint that he is high up--wants to know whether he +may stop on his way to London--he is going to see his father--" + +"Of course he shall come," said Mrs. Ambrose with enthusiasm. "He must +stop here till the lists are published and then we shall know--anything +else?" + +"The other is a note from a tutor of his side--my old friend Brown--he is +very enthusiastic; says it is an open secret that John will be at the +head of the list--begins to congratulate. Well, my dear, this is very +satisfactory, very flattering." + +"One might say very delightful, Augustin." + +"Delightful, yes quite delightful," replied the vicar, burying his long +nose in his teacup. + +"I only hope it may be true. I was afraid that perhaps John had done +himself harm by coming here at Christmas. Young men are so very +light-headed, are they not, Augustin?" added Mrs. Ambrose with a prim +smile. On rare occasions she had alluded to John's unfortunate passion +for Mrs. Goddard, and when she spoke of the subject she had a tendency to +assume something of the stiffness she affected towards strangers. As has +been seen she had ceased to blame Mrs. Goddard. Generally speaking the +absent are in the wrong in such matters; she could not refer to John's +conduct without a touch of severity. But the Reverend Augustin bent his +shaggy brows; John was now successful, probably senior classic--it was +evidently no time to censure his behaviour. + +"You must be charitable, my dear," he said, looking sharply at his wife. +"We have all been young once you know." + +"Augustin, I am surprised at you!" said Mrs. Ambrose sternly. + +"For saying that I once was young?" inquired her husband. "Strange and +paradoxical as such a statement must appear, I was once a baby." + +"I think your merriment very unseemly," objected Mrs. Ambrose in a tone +of censure. "Because you were once a baby it does not follow that you +ever acted in such a very foolish way about a--" + +"My dear," interrupted the vicar, handing his cup across the table, "I +wish you would leave John alone, and give me another cup of tea. John +will be here to-morrow. Let us receive him as we should. He has done us +credit." + +"He will never be received otherwise in this house, Augustin," replied +Mrs. Ambrose, "whether you allow me to speak my mind or not. I am aware +that Short has done us credit, as you express it. I only hope he always +may do us credit in the future. I am sure, I was like a mother to him. He +ought never to forget it. Why, my dear, cannot you remember how I always +had his buttons looked to and gave him globules when he wanted them? I +think he might show some gratitude." + +"I do not think he has failed to show it," retorted the vicar. + +"Oh, well, Augustin, if you are going to talk like that it is not +possible to argue with you; but he shall be welcome, if he comes. I hope, +however, that he will not go to the cottage--" + +"My dear, I have a funeral this morning. I wish you would not disturb my +mind with these trifles." + +"Trifles! Who is dead? You did not tell me." + +"Poor Judd's baby, of course. We have spoken of it often enough, I am +sure." + +"Oh yes, of course. Poor Tom Judd!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambrose with genuine +sympathy. "It seems to me you are always burying his babies, Augustin! +It is very sad." + +"Not always, my dear. Frequently," said the vicar correcting her. "It is +very sad, as you say. Very sad. You took so much trouble to help them +this time, too." + +"Trouble!" Mrs. Ambrose cast up her eyes. "You don't know how much +trouble. But I am quite sure it was the fault of that brazen-faced +doctor. I cannot bear the sight of him! That comes of answering +advertisements in the newspapers." + +The present doctor had bought the practice abandoned by Mrs. Ambrose's +son-in-law. He had paid well for it, but his religious principles had not +formed a part of the bargain. + +"It is of no use to cry over spilt milk, my dear." + +"I do not mean to. No, I never do. But it is very unpleasant to have such +people about. I really hope Tom Judd will not lose his next baby. When +is John coming?" + +"To-morrow. My dear, if I forget it this morning, will you remember to +speak to Reynolds about the calf?" + +"Certainly, Augustin," said his wife. Therewith the good vicar left her +and went to bury Tom Judd's baby, divided in his mind between rejoicing +over his favourite pupil's success and lamenting, as he sincerely did, +the misfortunes which befell his parishioners. When he left the +churchyard an hour later he was met by Martha, who came from the cottage +with a message begging that the vicar would come to Mrs. Goddard as soon +as possible. Martha believed her mistress was ill, she wanted to see Mr. +Ambrose at once. Without returning to the vicarage he turned to the left +towards the cottage. + +Mrs. Goddard had slept that night, being exhausted and almost broken down +with fatigue. But she woke only to a sense of the utmost pain and +distress, realising that to-day's anxiety was harder to bear than +yesterday's, and that to-morrow might bring forth even worse disasters +than those which had gone before. Her position was one of extreme doubt +and peril. To tell any one that her husband was in the neighbourhood +seemed to be equivalent to rooting out the very last remnant of +consideration for him which remained in her heart, the very last trace of +what had once been the chief joy and delight of her life. She hesitated +long. There is perhaps nothing in human nature more enduring than the +love of man and wife; or perhaps one should rather say than the love of a +woman for her husband. There appear to be some men capable of being so +completely estranged from their wives that there positively does not +remain in them even the faintest recollection of what they have once +felt, nor the possibility of feeling the least pity for what the women +they once loved so well may suffer. There is no woman, I believe, who +having once loved her husband truly, could see him in pain or distress, +or in danger of his life, without earnestly endeavouring to help him. A +woman may cease to love her husband; in some cases she is right in +forgetting her love, but it would be hard to find a case where, were he +the worst criminal alive, had he deceived her a thousand times, she would +not at least help him to escape from his pursuers or give him a crust to +save him from starvation. + +Mary Goddard had done her best for the wretch who had claimed her +assistance. She had fed him, provided him with money, refused to betray +him. But if it were to be a question of giving him up to the law, or of +allowing her best friend to be murdered by him, or even seriously +injured, she felt that pity must be at an end. It would be doubtless a +very horrible thing to give him up, and she had gathered from what he had +said that if he were taken he would pay the last penalty of the law. It +was so awful a thing that she groaned when she thought of it. But she +remembered his ghastly face in the starlight and the threat he had hissed +out against the squire; he was a desperate man, with blood already on his +hands. It was more than likely that he would do the deed he had +threatened to do. What could be easier than to watch the squire on one of +those evenings when he went up the park alone, to fall upon him and take +his life? Of late Mr. Juxon did not even take his dog with him. The +savage bloodhound would be a good protector; but even when he took +Stamboul with him by day, he never brought him at night. It was too long +for the beast to wait, he used to say, from six to nine or half past; he +was so savage that he did not care to leave him out of his sight; he +brought mud into the cottage, or into the vicarage as the case might +be--if Stamboul had been an ordinary dog it would have been different. +Those Russian bloodhounds were not to be trifled with. But the squire +must be warned of his danger before another night came on. + +It was a difficult question. Mrs. Goddard at first thought of telling him +herself; but she shrank from the thought, for she was exhausted and +overwrought. A few days ago she would have been brave enough to say +anything if necessary, but now she had no longer the courage nor the +strength. It seemed so hard to face the squire with such a warning; it +seemed as though she were doing something which would make her seem +ungrateful in his eyes, though she hardly knew why it seemed so. She +turned more naturally to the vicar, to whom she had originally come in +her first great distress; she had only once consulted him, but that one +occasion seemed to establish a precedent in her mind, the precedent of a +thing familiar. It would certainly be easier. After much thought and +inward debate, she determined to send for Mr. Ambrose. + +The fatigue and anxiety she had undergone during the last two days had +wrought great changes in her face. A girl of eighteen or twenty years may +gain delicacy and even beauty from the physical effects of grief, but a +woman over thirty years old gains neither. Mrs. Goddard's complexion, +naturally pale, had taken a livid hue; her lips, which were never very +red, were almost white; heavy purple shadows darkened her eyes; the two +or three lines that were hardly noticeable, but which were the natural +result of a sad expression in her face, had in two days become distinctly +visible and had almost assumed the proportions of veritable wrinkles. Her +features were drawn and pinched--she looked ten years older than she was. +Nothing remained of her beauty but her soft waving brown hair and her +deep, pathetic, violet eyes. Even her small hands seemed to have grown +thin and looked unnaturally white and transparent. + +She was sitting in her favourite chair by the fire, when the vicar +arrived. She had not been willing to seem ill, in spite of what Martha +had said, and she had refused to put cushions in the chair. She was +making an effort, and even a little sense of physical discomfort helped +to make the effort seem easier. She was so much exhausted that she felt +she must not for one moment relax the tension she imposed upon herself +lest her whole remaining strength should suddenly collapse and leave her +at the mercy of events. But Mr. Ambrose was startled when he saw her and +feared that she was very ill. + +"My dear Mrs. Goddard," he said, "what is the matter? Are you ill? Has +anything happened?" + +As he spoke he changed the form of his question, suddenly recollecting +that Mr. Juxon had probably on the previous afternoon told her of her +husband's escape, as he had meant to do. This might be the cause of her +indisposition. + +"Yes," she said in a voice that did not sound like her own, "I have asked +you to come because I am in great trouble--in desperate trouble." + +"Dear me," said the vicar, "I hope not!" + +"Not desperate? Perhaps not. Dear Mr. Ambrose, you have always been so +kind to me--I am sure you can help me now." Her voice trembled. + +"Indeed I will do my best," said the vicar who judged from so unusual an +outburst that there must be really something wrong. "If you could tell me +what it is--" he suggested. + +"That is the hardest part of it," said the unhappy woman. She paused a +moment as though to collect her strength. "You know," she began again, +"that my husband has escaped?" + +"A terrible business!" exclaimed the good man, nodding, however, in +affirmation to the question she asked. + +"I have seen him," said Mary Goddard very faintly, looking down at her +thin hands. The vicar started in astonishment. + +"My dear friend--dear me! Dear, dear, how very painful!" + +"Indeed, you do not know what I have suffered. It is most dreadful, Mr. +Ambrose. You cannot imagine what a struggle it was. I am quite worn out." + +She spoke with such evident pain that the vicar was moved. He felt that +she had more to tell, but he had hardly recovered from his surprise. + +"But, you know," he said, "that was the whole object of warning you. We +did not really believe that he would come here. We were so much afraid +that he would startle you. Of course Mr. Juxon told you he consulted +me--" + +"Of course," answered Mrs. Goddard. "It was too late. I had seen him the +night before." + +"Why, that was the very night we were here!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, more +and more amazed. Mrs. Goddard nodded. She seemed hardly able to speak. + +"He came and knocked at that window," she said, very faintly. "He came +again last night." + +"Dear me--I will send for Gall at once; he will have no difficulty in +arresting him--" + +"Oh please!" interrupted Mrs. Goddard in hysterical tones. "Please, +please, dear Mr. Ambrose, don't!" + +The vicar was silent. He rose unceremoniously from his chair and walked +to the window, as he generally did when in any great doubt. He realised +at once and very vividly the awful position in which the poor lady was +placed. + +"Pray do not think I am very bad," said she, almost sobbing with fear and +emotion. "Of course it must seem dreadful to you that I should wish him +to escape!" + +The vicar came slowly back and stood beside her leaning against the +chimney-piece. It did not take him long to make up his mind. Kind-hearted +people are generally impulsive. + +"I do not, my dear lady. I assure you I fully understand your position. +The fact is, I was too much surprised and I am too anxious for your +safety not to think immediately of securing that--ahem--that unfortunate +man." + +"Oh, it is not my safety! It is not only my safety--" + +"I understand--yes--of course you are anxious about him. But it is +doubtless not our business to aid the law in its course, provided we do +not oppose it." + +"It is something else," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "Oh! how shall I tell +you," she moaned turning her pale cheek to the back of the chair. + +The vicar looked at her and began to think it was perhaps some strange +case of conscience with which he had to deal. He had very little +experience of such things save in the rude form they take among the +labouring classes. But he reflected that it was likely to be something of +the kind; in such a case Mrs. Goddard would naturally enough have sent +for him, more as her clergyman than as her friend. She looked like a +person suffering from some great mental strain. He sat down beside her +and took her passive hand. He was moved, and felt as though he might have +been her father. + +"My dear," he said kindly, almost as though he were speaking to a child, +"have you anything upon your mind, anything which distresses you? Do you +wish to tell me? If so I will do my very best to help you." + +Mrs. Goddard's fingers pressed his hand a little, but her face was still +turned away. + +"It is Mr. Juxon," she almost whispered. If she had been watching the +vicar she would have noticed the strange air of perplexity which came +over his face when he heard the squire's name. + +"Yes--Mr. Juxon," she moaned. Then the choked-down horror rose in her +throat. "Walter means to murder him!" she almost screamed. "Oh, my God, +my God, what shall I do!" she cried aloud clasping her hands suddenly +over her face and rocking herself to and fro. + +The vicar was horror-struck; he could hardly believe his ears, and +believing them his senses swam. In his wildest dreams--and the good man's +dreams were rarely wild--he had never thought that such things could come +near him. Being a very good man and, moreover, a wise man when he had +plenty of time for reflection, he folded his hands quietly and bent his +head, praying fervently for the poor tortured woman who moaned and tossed +herself beside him. It was a terrible moment. Suddenly she controlled +herself and grasping one of the arms of the chair looked round at her +silent companion. + +"You must save him," she said in agonised tones, "you must save them +both! Do not tell me you cannot--oh, do not tell me that!" + +It was a passionate and heart-broken appeal, such a one as few men would +or could resist, coming as it did from a helpless and miserably unhappy +woman. Whether the vicar was wise in giving the answer he did, it would +be hard to say: but he was a man who honestly tried to do his best. + +"I will try, my dear lady," he said, making a great resolution. Mrs. +Goddard took his hand and pressed it in both of hers, and the long +restrained tears flowed fast and softly over her worn cheeks. For some +moments neither spoke. + +"If you cannot save both--you must save--Mr. Juxon," she said at last, +breathing the words rather than speaking them. + +The vicar knew or guessed what it must cost her to hint that her husband +might be captured. He recognised that the only way in which he could +contribute towards the escape of the convict was by not revealing his +hiding-place, and he accordingly refrained from asking where he was +concealed. He shuddered as he thought that Goddard might be lying hidden +in the cottage itself, for all he could tell, but he was quite sure that +he ought not to know it. So long as he did not know where the forger was, +it was easy to hold his peace; but if once he knew, the vicar was not +capable of denying the knowledge. He had never told a lie in his life. + +"I will try," he repeated; and growing calmer, he added, "You are +quite sure this was not an empty threat, my dear friend? Was there any +reason--a--I mean to say, had this unfortunate man ever known Mr. Juxon?" + +"Oh no!" answered Mrs. Goddard, sinking back into her chair. "He never +knew him." Her tears were still flowing but she no longer sobbed aloud; +it had been a relief to her overwrought and sensitive temperament to give +way to the fit of weeping. She actually felt better, though ten minutes +earlier she would not have believed it possible. + +"Then--why?" asked Mr. Ambrose, hesitating. + +"My poor husband was a very jealous man," she answered. "I accidentally +told him that the cottage belonged to Mr. Juxon and yesterday--do you +remember? You walked on with Mr. Juxon beyond the turning, and then he +came back to see me--to tell me of my husband's escape. Walter saw that +and--and he thought, I suppose--that Mr. Juxon did not want you to see +him coming here." + +"But Mr. Juxon had just promised me to go and see you," said the honest +vicar. + +"Yes," said poor Mrs. Goddard, beginning to sob again, "but Walter--my +husband--thinks that I--I care for Mr. Juxon--he is so jealous," cried +she, again covering her face with her hands. The starting tears trickled +through her fingers and fell upon her black dress. She was ashamed, this +time, for she hated even to speak of such a possibility. + +"I understand," answered Mr. Ambrose gravely. It certainly did not strike +him that it might be true, and his knowledge of such characters as Walter +Goddard was got chiefly from the newspapers. He had often noticed in +reports of trials and detailed descriptions of crimes that criminals seem +to become entirely irrational after a certain length of time, and it was +one of the arguments he best understood for demonstrating that bad men +either are originally, or ultimately become mad. To men like the vicar, +almost the only possible theory of crime is the theory of insanity. It is +positively impossible for a man who has passed thirty or forty years in a +quiet country parish to comprehend the motives or the actions of great +criminals. He naturally says they must be crazy or they would not do such +things. If Goddard were crazy enough to commit a forgery, he was crazy +enough for anything, even to the extent of suspecting that his wife loved +the squire. + +"I think," said Mr. Ambrose, "that if you agree with me it will be best +to warn Mr. Juxon of his danger." + +"Of course," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "You must warn him at once!" + +"I will go to the Hall now," said the vicar bravely. "But--I am very +sorry to have to dwell on the subject, my dear lady, but, without wishing +in the least to know where the--your husband is, could you tell me +anything about his appearance? For instance, if you understand what I +mean, supposing that Mr. Juxon knew how he looked and should happen to +meet him, knowing that he wished to kill him--he might perhaps avoid him, +if you understand me?" + +The vicar's English was a little disturbed by his extreme desire not to +hurt Mrs. Goddard's feelings. If the squire and his dog chanced to meet +Walter Goddard they would probably not avoid him as the vicar expressed +it; that was a point Mr. Ambrose was willing to leave to Mrs. Goddard's +imagination. + +"Yes--must you know?" she asked anxiously. + +"We must know that," returned the vicar. + +"He is disguised as a poor tramp," she said sorrowfully. "He wears a +smock-frock and an old hat I think. He is pale--oh, poor, poor Walter!" +she cried again bursting into tears. + +Mr. Ambrose could say nothing. There was nothing to be said. He rose and +took his hat--the old tall hat he wore to his parishioners' funerals. +They were very primitive people in Billingsfield. + +"I will go at once," he said. "Believe me, you have all my sympathy--I +will do all I can." + +Mary Goddard thanked him more by her looks than with any words she was +able to speak. But she was none the less truly grateful for his sympathy +and aid. She had a kind of blind reliance on him which made her feel that +since she had once confided her trouble and danger nothing more could +possibly be done. When he was gone, she sobbed with relief, as before she +had wept for fear; she was hysterical, unstrung, utterly unlike herself. + +But as the vicar went up towards the Hall he felt that he had his hands +full, and he felt moreover an uneasy sensation which he could not have +explained. He was certainly no coward, but he had never been in such a +position before and he did not like it; there was an air of danger about, +an atmosphere which gave him a peculiarly unpleasant thrill from time to +time. He was not engaged upon an agreeable errand, and he had a vague +feeling, due, the scientists would have told him, to unconscious +ratiocination, which seemed to tell him that something was going to +happen. People who are very often in danger know that singular uneasiness +which warns them that all is not well; it is not like anything else that +can be felt. No one really knows its cause, unless it be true that the +mind sometimes reasons for itself without the consciousness of the body, +and communicates to the latter a spasmodic warning, the result of its +cogitations. + +To say to the sturdy squire, "Beware of a man in a smock-frock, one +Goddard the forger, who means to murder you," seemed of itself simple +enough. But for the squire to distinguish this same Goddard from all +other men in smock-frocks was a less easy matter. The vicar, indeed, +could tell a strange face at a hundred yards, for he knew every man, +woman and child in his parish; but the squire's acquaintance was more +limited. Obviously, said Mr. Ambrose to himself, the squire's best course +would be to stay quietly at home until the danger was passed, and to pass +word to Policeman Gall to lay hands on any particularly seedy-looking +tramps he happened to see in the village. It was Gall's duty to do so in +any case, as he had been warned to be on the look-out. Mr. Ambrose +inwardly wondered where the man could be hiding. Billingsfield was not, +he believed, an easy place to hide in, for every ploughman knew his +fellow, and a new face was always an object of suspicion. Not a gipsy +tinker entered the village but what every one heard of it, and though +tramps came through from time to time, it would be a difficult matter for +one of them to remain two days in the place without attracting a great +deal of attention. It was possible that Walter Goddard might have been +concealed for one night in his wife's house, but even there he could not +have remained hidden for two days without being seen by Mrs. Goddard's +two women servants. The vicar walked rapidly through the park, looking +about him suspiciously as he went. Goddard might at that very moment be +lurking behind any one of those oaks; it would be most unpleasant if he +mistook the vicar for the squire. But that, the vicar reflected, was +impossible on account of his clerical dress. He reached the Hall in +safety and stood looking down among the leafless trees, waiting for the +door to be opened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Mr. Juxon received the vicar in the library as he had received him on the +previous day; but on the present occasion Mr. Ambrose had not been sent +for and the squire's face wore an expression of inquiry. He supposed his +friend had come to ask him the result of the interview with Mrs. Goddard, +and as he himself was on the point of going towards the cottage he wished +the vicar had come at a later or an earlier hour. + +"I have a message to give you," said Mr. Ambrose, "a very important +message." + +"Indeed?" answered the squire, observing his serious face. + +"Yes. I had better tell you at once. Mrs. Goddard sent for me this +morning. She has actually seen her husband, who must be hiding in the +neighbourhood. He came to her drawing-room window last night and the +night before." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. "You don't tell me so!" + +"That is not the worst of the matter," continued the vicar, looking very +grave and fixing his eyes on the squire's face. "This villainous fellow +has been threatening to take your life, Mr. Juxon." + +Mr. Juxon stared at the vicar for a moment in surprise, and then broke +into a hearty laugh. + +"My life!" he cried. "Upon my word, the fellow does not know what he is +talking about! Do you mean to say that this escaped convict, who can be +arrested at sight wherever he is found, imagines that he could attack me +in broad daylight without being caught?" + +"Well, no, I suppose not--but you often walk home at night, Mr. +Juxon--alone through the park." + +"I think that dog of mine could manage Mr. Goddard," remarked the squire +calmly. "And pray, Mr. Ambrose, now that we know that the man is in the +neighbourhood, what is to prevent us from finding him?" + +"We do not know where he is," replied the vicar, thanking the inspiration +which had prevented him from asking Mrs. Goddard more questions. He had +promised to save Goddard, too, or at least not to facilitate his capture. +But though he was glad to be able to say honestly that he did not know +where he was, he began to doubt whether in the eyes of the law he was +acting rightly. + +"You do not know?" asked the squire. + +"No; and besides I think--perhaps--we ought to consider poor Mrs. +Goddard's position." + +"Mrs. Goddard's position!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon almost angrily. "And who +should consider her position more than I, Mr. Ambrose? My dear sir, I +consider her position before all things--of course I do. But nothing +could be of greater advantage to her position than the certainty that her +husband is safely lodged in prison. I cannot imagine how he contrived +to escape--can you?" + +"No, I cannot," answered Mr. Ambrose, thrusting his hands into his +pockets and biting his long upper lip. + +"By the bye, did the fellow happen to say why he meant to lay violent +hands on me?" inquired Mr. Juxon. + +"Since you ask--he did. It appears that he saw you going into the +cottage, and immediately became jealous--" + +"Of me?" Mr. Juxon coloured a little beneath his bronzed complexion, and +grew more angry. "Well, upon my word! But if that is true I am much +obliged for your warning. Fellows of that sort never reason--he will very +likely attack me as you say. It will be quite the last time he attacks +anybody--the devil shall have his own, Mr. Ambrose, if I can help him to +it--" + +"Dear me! Mr. Juxon--you surprise me," said the vicar, who had never +heard his friend use such strong language before. + +"It is enough to surprise anybody," remarked the squire. "I trust we +shall surprise Mr. Goddard before night. Excuse me, but when did he +express his amiable intentions towards me?" + +"Last night, I believe," replied Mr. Ambrose, reluctantly. + +"And when did he see me going into the cottage?" + +"Yesterday afternoon, I believe." The vicar felt as though he were +beginning to break his promise of shielding the fugitive, but he could +not refuse to answer a direct question. + +"Then, when he saw me, he was either in the cottage or in the park. There +was no one in the road, I am quite sure." + +"I do not know," said the vicar, delighted at being able to say so. He +was such a simple man that Mr. Juxon noticed the tone of relief in which +he denied any knowledge of Goddard's whereabouts on the previous day as +compared with his reluctance to answer upon those points of which he was +certain. + +"You are not anxious that Goddard should be caught," said the squire +rather sharply. + +"Frankly," returned the vicar, "I do not wish to be instrumental in his +capture--not that I am likely to be." + +"That is none of my business, Mr. Ambrose. I will try and catch him +alone. But it would be better that he should be taken alive and +quietly--" + +"Surely," cried the vicar in great alarm, "you would not kill him?" + +"Oh no, certainly not. But my dog might, Mr. Ambrose. They are ugly dogs +when they are angry, and they have a remarkable faculty for finding +people who are lost. They used to use them in Russia for tracking +fugitive serfs and convicts who escaped from Siberia." + +Mr. Ambrose shuddered. The honest squire seemed almost as bloodthirsty in +his eyes as the convict Goddard. He felt that he did not understand Mr. +Juxon. The idea of hunting people with bloodhounds seemed utterly foreign +to his English nature, and he could not understand how his English friend +could entertain such a thought; he probably forgot that a few generations +earlier the hunting of all kinds of men, papists, dissenters, covenanters +and rebels, with dogs, had been a favourite English sport. + +"Really, Mr. Juxon," he said in an agitated tone, "I think you would do +much better to protect yourself with the means provided by the law. +Considerations of humanity--" + +"Considerations of humanity, sir, are at an end when one man threatens +the life of another. You admit yourself that I am not safe unless Goddard +is caught, and yet you object to my method of catching him. That is +illogical." + +The vicar felt that this was to some extent true; but he was not willing +to admit it. He knew also that if he could dissuade the squire from his +barbarous scheme, Goddard would have a far better chance of escape. + +"I think that with the assistance of Gall and a London detective--" he +began. + +"Gall is an old woman, Mr. Ambrose, and it will take twenty-four hours to +get a detective from town. In twenty-four hours this man may have +attacked me." + +"He will hardly attempt to force his way into your house, Mr. Juxon." + +"So then, I am to stay at home to suit his convenience? I will not do any +such thing. Besides, in twenty-four hours Goddard may have changed his +mind and may have taken himself off. For the rest of her life Mrs. +Goddard will then be exposed to the possibility of every kind of +annoyance." + +"He would never come back, I am sure," objected the vicar. + +"Why not? Every time he comes she will give him money. The more money she +gives him the more often he will come, unless we put an end to his coming +altogether." + +"You seem to forget," urged Mr. Ambrose, "that there will be a vigorous +search made for him. Why not telegraph to the governor of Portland?" + +"I thought you wanted to save Mrs. Goddard from needless scandal; did you +not?" returned the squire. "The governor of Portland would send down a +squad of police who would publish the whole affair. He would have done so +as soon as the man escaped had he known that Mrs. Goddard lived here." + +"I wonder how Goddard himself knew it," remarked Mr. Ambrose. + +"I don't know. Perhaps she told him she was coming here, at their last +interview. Or perhaps she wrote to him in prison and the governor +overlooked the letter. Anything like that would account for it." + +"But if you catch him--alive," hesitated the vicar, "it will all be known +at once. I do not see how you can prevent that." + +"If I catch him alive, I will take him out of Billingsfield without any +one's knowledge. I do not mean to hurt him. I only want to get him back +to prison. Believe me, I am much more anxious than you can possibly be to +save Mrs. Goddard from harm." + +"Very well. I have done my errand," said Mr. Ambrose, with a sort of sigh +of relief. "I confess, I am in great anxiety of mind, both on your +account and on hers. I never dreamed that such things could happen in +Billingsfield." + +"You are certainly not responsible for them," answered Mr. Juxon. "It is +not your fault--" + +"Not altogether, perhaps. But I was perhaps wrong in letting her come +here--no, I am sure I was not," he added impulsively, as though ashamed +of having said anything so unkind. + +"Certainly not. You were quite right, Mr. Ambrose, quite right, I assure +you." + +"Well, I hope all may yet be for the best," said the vicar. + +"Let us hope so," replied Mr. Juxon gravely. "By all means, let us hope +that all may be for the best." + +Whether the squire doubted the possibility of so happy an issue to events +or not, is uncertain. He felt almost more sorry for the vicar than for +himself; the vicar was such a good man, so unused to the violent deeds of +violent people, of which the squire in his wanderings had seen more than +was necessary to convince him that all was not always for the best in +this best of all possible worlds. + +Mr. Ambrose left his friend and as he retraced his steps through the park +was more disturbed than ever. That Goddard should contemplate killing the +squire was bad enough, in all conscience, but that the squire should +deliberately purpose to hunt down Goddard with his bloodhound seemed +somehow even worse. The vicar had indeed promised Mrs. Goddard that he +would not help to capture her husband, but he would have been as glad as +any one to hear that the convict was once more lodged in his prison. +There lurked in his mind, nevertheless, an impression that even a convict +should have a fair chance. The idea was not expressed, but existed in +him. Everybody, he would have said, ought to have a fair chance, and +as the law of nations forbids the use of explosive bullets in warfare, +the laws of humanity seemed to forbid the use of bloodhounds in the +pursuit of criminals. He had a very great respect for the squire's +character and principles, but the cold-blooded way in which Mr. Juxon had +spoken of catching and probably killing Walter Goddard, had shaken the +good vicar's belief in his friend. He doubted whether he were not now +bound to return to Mrs. Goddard and to warn her in his turn of her +husband's danger, whether he ought not to do something to save the +wretched convict from his fate. It seemed hideous to think that in +peaceful Billingsfield, in his own lonely parish, a human being should be +exposed to such peril. But at this point the vicar's continuity forsook +him. He had not the heart to tell the tale of his interview with Mr. +Juxon to the unhappy lady he had left that morning. It was extremely +improbable, he thought, that she should be able to communicate with her +husband during the day, and the squire's language led him to think that +the day would not pass without some attempt to discover Walter Goddard's +hiding-place. Besides, the vicar's mind was altogether more disturbed +than it had been in thirty years, and he was no longer able to account to +himself with absolute accuracy for what he did. At all events, he felt +that it was better not to tell Mrs. Goddard what the squire had said. + +When he was gone, Mr. Juxon paced his library alone in the greatest +uncertainty. He had told the vicar in his anger that he would find +Goddard with the help of Stamboul. That the hound was able to accomplish +the feat in the present weather, and if Goddard had actually stood some +time at the cottage window on the previous night, he did not doubt for a +moment. The vicar had mentioned the window to him when he told him that +Mrs. Goddard had seen her husband. He had probably been at the window as +late as midnight, and the scent, renewed by his visit, would not be +twelve hours old. Stamboul could find the man, unless he had got into a +cart, which was improbable. But a new and startling consideration +presented itself to the squire's mind when the vicar was gone and his +anger had subsided; a consideration which made him hesitate what course +to pursue. + +That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the +criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should +be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at +large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to +all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the +fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one +thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon +had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the +great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet +through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the +convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the +squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection +the thing appeared in a different light. + +He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if +not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a +wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free +she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were +removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the +squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be +to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for +justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that +Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard +might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance +to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want +to murder Goddard and take his wife." + +It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and +murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible one. The very +uncertainty which there was, tempted the squire to disregard the +possibility of Goddard's death as compared with the importance of his +capture. It was quite likely, he unconsciously argued, that the +bloodhound would not kill him after all; it was even possible that he +might not find him; but it would be worth while to make the attempt, for +the results to be obtained by catching the fugitive were very great--Mrs. +Goddard's peace was to be considered before all things. But still before +the squire's eyes arose the picture of Stamboul tearing the throat of the +man he had killed in the Belgrade forest. If he killed the felon, Juxon +would know that to all intents and purposes he had himself done the deed +in order to marry Mrs. Goddard. But still the thought remained with him +and would not leave him. + +The fellow had threatened his own life. It was then a fair fight, +for a man cannot be blamed if he tries to get the better of one who is +going about to kill him. On one of his many voyages, he had once shot a +man in order to quell a mutiny; he had not killed him it is true, but +he had disabled him for the time--he had handled many a rough customer +in his day. The case, he thought, was similar, for it was the case of +self-defence. The law, even, would say he was justified. But to slay a +man in self-defence and then to marry his widow, though justifiable in +law, is a very delicate case for the conscience; and in spite of the +wandering life he had led, Mr. Juxon's conscience was sensitive. He was +an honest man and a gentleman, he had tried all his life to do right as +he saw it, and did not mean to turn murderer now, no matter how easy it +would be for him to defend his action. + +At the end of an hour he had decided that it would be murder, and no +less, to let Stamboul track Goddard to his hiding-place. The hound might +accompany him in his walks, and if anybody attacked him it would be so +much the worse for his assailant. Murder or no murder, he was entitled to +take any precautions he pleased against an assault. But he would not +willingly put the bloodhound on the scent, and he knew well enough that +the dog would not run upon a strange trail unless he were put to it. +The squire went to his lunch, feeling that he had made a good resolution; +but he ate little and soon afterwards began to feel the need of going +down to see Mrs. Goddard. No day was complete without seeing her, and +considering the circumstances which had occurred on the previous +afternoon, it was natural that he should call to inquire after her state. +In the hall, the gigantic beast which had played such an important part +in his thoughts during the morning, came solemnly up to him, raising his +great red eyes as though asking whether he were to accompany his master. +The squire stood still and looked at him for a moment. + +"Come along, Stamboul!" he said suddenly, as he put on his hat. The hound +leaped up and laid his heavy paws on the squire's shoulders, trying to +lick his face in his delight, then, almost upsetting the sturdy man he +sprang back, slipped on the polished floor, recovered himself and with an +enormous stride bounded past Mr. Juxon, out into the park. But Mr. Juxon +quickly called him back, and presently he was following close at heel in +his own stately way, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The +squire felt nervous, and the sensation was new to him. He did not believe +that Goddard would really attack him at all, certainly not that he would +dare to attack him in broad daylight. But the knowledge of the threat the +fellow had uttered made him watchful. He glanced to the right and left as +he walked and gripped his heavy blackthorn stick firmly in his hand. He +wished that if the man were to appear he would come quickly--it might be +hard to hold Stamboul back if he were attacked unawares. + +He reached the gate, crossed the road and rang the bell of the cottage. +As he stood waiting, Stamboul smelled the ground, put up his head, +smelled it again and with his nose down trotted slowly to the window on +the left hand of the door. He smelled the ground, the wall and presently +put both his fore paws upon the outer ledge of the window. Then he +dropped again, and looked at his master. Martha was a long time in coming +to the door. + +"After him, Stamboul!" said the squire, almost unconsciously. The dog put +his nose down and began to move slowly about. At that moment the door +opened. + +"Oh, sir," said Martha, "it's you, sir. I was to say, if you please, that +if you called, Mrs. Goddard was poorly to-day, sir." + +"Dear me!" said Mr. Juxon, "I hope she is not ill. Is it anything +serious, Martha?" + +"Well, sir, she's been down this mornin', but her head ached terrible bad +and she went back to her room--oh, sir, your dog--he's a runnin' home." + +As she spoke a sound rang in the air that made Martha start back. It was +a deep, resounding, bell-like note, fierce and wild, rising and falling, +low but full, with a horror indescribable in its echo--the sound which no +man who has heard it ever forgets--the baying of a bloodhound on the +track of a man. + +The squire turned deadly pale, but he shouted with all his might, as he +would have shouted to a man on the topsail yard in a gale at sea. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul! Stamboul!" Again and again he yelled the dog's name. + +Stamboul had not gone far. The quickset hedge had baffled the scent for a +moment and he was not a dozen yards beyond it in the park when his +master's cry stopped him. Instantly he turned, cleared the six-foot hedge +and double ditch at a bound and came leaping back across the road. The +squire breathed hard, for it had been a terrible moment. If he had not +succeeded in calling the beast back, it might have been all over with +Walter Goddard, wherever he was hidden. + +"It is only his play," said Mr. Juxon, still very white and holding +Stamboul by the collar. "Please tell Mrs. Goddard, Martha, that I am very +sorry indeed to hear that she is ill, and that I will inquire this +evening." + +"Yes, sir," said Martha, who eyed the panting beast timidly and showed an +evident desire to shut the door as soon as possible. + +The squire felt more nervous than ever as he walked slowly along the road +in the direction of the village, his hand still on the bloodhound's +collar. He felt what a narrow escape Goddard had probably had, and the +terrible sound of Stamboul's baying had brought back to him once again +and very vividly the scene in the woods by the Bosphorus. He felt that +for a few minutes at least he would rather not enter the park with the +dog by him, and he naturally turned towards the vicarage, not with any +intention of going in, but from sheer force of custom, as people under +the influence of strong emotions often do things unconsciously which they +are in the habit of doing. He walked slowly along, and had almost reached +Mr. Ambrose's pretty old red brick house, when he found himself face to +face with the vicar's wife. She presented an imposing appearance, as +usual; her grey skirt, drawn up a little from the mud, revealed a bright +red petticoat and those stout shoes which she regarded as so essential +to health; she wore moreover a capacious sealskin jacket and a dark +bonnet with certain jet flowers, which for many years had been regarded +by the inhabitants of Billingsfield as the distinctive badge of a +gentlewoman. Mrs. Ambrose was wont to smile and say that they were +indestructible and would last as long as she did. She greeted Mr. Juxon +cordially. + +"How do you, Mr. Juxon--were you going to see us? I was just going for a +walk--perhaps you will come with me?" + +Mr. Juxon turned back and prepared to accompany her. + +"Such good news this morning, from John Short," she said. "He has +finished his examinations, and it seems almost certain that he will be +senior classic. His tutor at Trinity has written already to congratulate +my husband upon his success." + +"I am sure, I am delighted, too," said the squire, who had regained his +composure but kept his hold on Stamboul's collar. "He deserves all he +gets, and more too," he continued. "I think he will be a remarkable man." + +"I did not think you liked him so very much," said Mrs. Ambrose rather +doubtfully, as she walked slowly by his side. + +"Oh--I liked him very much. Indeed, I was going to ask him to stay with +me for a few days at the Hall." + +The inspiration was spontaneous. Mr. Juxon was in a frame of mind in +which he felt that he ought to do something pleasant for somebody, to set +off against the bloodthirsty designs which had passed through his mind in +the morning. He knew that if he had not been over friendly to John, it +had been John's own fault; but since he had found out that it was +impossible to marry Mrs. Goddard, he had forgiven the young scholar his +shortcomings and felt very charitably inclined towards him. It suddenly +struck him that it would give John great pleasure to stop at the Hall for +a few days, and that it would be no inconvenience to himself. The effect +upon Mrs. Ambrose was greater even than he had expected. She was +hospitable, good and kind, but she was also economical, as she had need +to be. The squire was rich. If the squire would put up John during a part +of his visit it would be a kindness to John himself, and an economy to +the vicarage. Mr. Ambrose himself would not have gone to such a length; +but then, as his wife said to herself in self-defence, Augustin did not +pay the butcher's bills, and did not know how the money went. She did not +say that Augustin was precisely what is called reckless, but he of course +did not understand economy as she did. How should he, poor man, with all +his sermons and his funerals and other occupations to take his mind off? +Mrs. Ambrose was delighted at the squire's proposal. + +"Really!" she exclaimed. "That would be too good of you, Mr. Juxon. And +you do not know how it would quite delight him! He loves books so much, +and then you know," she added in a confidential manner, "he has never +stayed in a country house in his life, I am quite sure." + +"And when is he coming down?" asked Mr. Juxon. "I should be very much +pleased to have him." + +"To-morrow, I think," said Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Well--would you ask him from me to come up and stop a week? Can you +spare him, Mrs. Ambrose? I know you are very fond of him, of course, +but--" + +"Oh very," said she warmly. "But I think it likely he will stay some +time," she added in explanation of her willingness to let him go to the +Hall. + +The squire felt vaguely that the presence of a guest in his house would +probably be a restraint upon him, and he felt that some restraint would +be agreeable to him at the present time. + +"Besides," added Mrs. Ambrose, "if you would like to have him +first--there is a little repair necessary in his room at the vicarage--we +have put it off too long--" + +"By all means." said the squire, following out his own train of thought. +"Send him up to me as soon as he comes. If I can manage it I will be down +here to ask him myself." + +"It is so good of you," said Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Not at all. Are you going to the cottage?" + +"Yes--why?" + +"Nothing," said Mr. Juxon. "I did not know whether you would like to walk +on a little farther with me. Good-bye, then. You will tell Short as soon +as he comes, will you not?" + +"Certainly," replied Mrs. Ambrose, still beaming upon him. "I will not +let him unpack his things at the vicarage. Good-bye--so many thanks." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Mrs. Goddard's head ached "terrible bad" according to Martha, and when +the vicar left her she went and lay down upon her bed, with a sensation +that if the worst were not yet over she could bear no more. But she had +an elastic temperament, and the fact of having consulted Mr. Ambrose that +morning had been a greater relief than she herself suspected. She felt +that he could be trusted to save Mr. Juxon from harm and Walter from +capture, and having once confided to him the important secret which had +so heavily weighed upon her mind she felt that the burthen of her +troubles was lightened. Mr. Juxon could take any measures he pleased for +his own safety; he would probably choose to stay at home until the danger +was past. As for her husband, Mary Goddard did not believe that he would +return a third time, for she thought that she had thoroughly frightened +him. It was even likely that he had only thrown out his threat for the +sake of terrifying his wife, and was now far beyond the limits of the +parish. So great was the relief she felt after she had talked with the +vicar that she almost ceased to believe there was any danger at all; +looking at it in the light of her present mood, she almost wondered why +she had thought it necessary to tell Mr. Ambrose--until suddenly a vision +of her friend the squire, attacked and perhaps killed, in his own park, +rose to her mental vision, and she remembered what agonies of fear she +had felt for him until she had sent for the vicar. The latter indeed +seemed to have been a sort of _deus ex maohinâ_ by whom she suddenly +obtained peace of mind and a sense of security in the hour of her +greatest distress. + +All that afternoon she lay upon her bed, while Nellie sat beside her and +read to her, and stroked her hands; for Nellie was in reality +passionately fond of her mother and suffered almost as much at the sight +of her suffering as she could have done had she been in pain herself. +Both Mrs. Goddard and the child started at the sound of Stamboul's +baying, which was unlike anything they had ever heard before, and Nellie +ran to the window. + +"It is only Mr. Juxon and Stamboul having a game," said Nellie. "What a +noise he made, though! Did not he?" + +Poor Nellie--had she had any idea of what the "game" was from which the +squire found it so hard to make his hound desist, she must have gone +almost mad with horror. For the game was her own father, poor child. But +she came back and sat beside her mother utterly unconscious of what might +have happened if Stamboul had once got beyond earshot, galloping along +the trail towards the disused vault at the back of the church. Mrs. +Goddard had started at the sounds and had put her hand to her forehead, +but Nellie's explanation was enough to quiet her, and she smiled faintly +and closed her eyes again. Then, half an hour later, Mrs. Ambrose came, +and would not be denied. She wanted to make Mrs. Goddard comfortable, she +said, when she found she was ill, and she did her best, being a kind and +motherly woman when not hardened by the presence of strangers. She told +her that John was coming on the next day, speaking with vast pride of his +success and omitting to look sternly at Mrs. Goddard as she had formerly +been accustomed to do when she spoke of the young scholar. Then at last +she went away, after exacting a promise from Mrs. Goddard to come and +dine, bringing Nellie with her, on the following day, in case she should +have recovered by that time from her headache. + +But during all that night Mrs. Goddard lay awake, listening for the sound +she so much dreaded, of a creeping footstep on the slated path outside +and for the tapping at the window. Nothing came, however, and as the grey +dawn began to creep in through the white curtains, she fell peacefully +asleep. Nellie would not let her be waked, and breakfasted without her, +enjoying with childish delight the state of being waited on by Martha +alone. + +Meanwhile, at an early hour, John arrived at the vicarage and was +received with open arms by Mr. Ambrose and his wife. The latter seemed to +forget, in the pleasure of seeing him again, that she had even once +spoken doubtfully of him or hinted that he was anything short of +perfection itself. And to prove how much she had done for him she +communicated with great pride the squire's message, to the effect that he +expected John at the Hall that very day. + +John's heart leaped with delight at the idea. It was natural. He was +indeed most sincerely attached to the Ambroses, and most heartily glad to +be with them; but he had never in his life had an opportunity of staying +in a "big" house, as he would have described it. It seemed as though he +were already beginning to taste the sweet first-fruits of success after +all his labour and all his privations; it was the first taste of another +world, the first mouthful of the good things of life which had fallen to +his lot. Instantly there rose before him delicious visions of hot-water +cans brought by a real footman, of luxurious meals served by a real +butler, of soft carpets perpetually beneath his feet, of liberty to +lounge in magnificent chairs in the magnificent library; and last, though +not least, there was a boyish feeling of delight in the thought that when +he went to see Mrs. Goddard he would go from the Hall, that she would +perhaps associate him henceforth with a different kind of existence, in a +word, that he was sure to acquire importance in her eyes from the fact of +his visit to the squire. Many a young fellow of one and twenty is as +familiar with all that money can give and as tired of luxury as a +broken-down hard liver of forty years; for this is an age of luxurious +living. But poor John had hardly ever tasted the least of those things +too familiar to the golden youth of the period to be even noticed. He had +felt when he first entered the little drawing-room of the cottage that +Mrs. Goddard herself belonged, or had belonged, to that delicious unknown +world of ease where the question of expense was never considered, much +less mentioned. In her own eyes she was indeed living in a state +approaching to penury, but the spectacle of her pictures, her furniture +and her bibelots had impressed John with a very different idea. The +squire's invitation, asking him to spend a week at the Hall, seemed in a +moment to put him upon the same level as the woman to whom he believed +himself so devotedly attached. To his mind the ideal woman could not but +be surrounded by a luxurious atmosphere of her own. To enter the charmed +precincts of those surroundings seemed to John equivalent to being +transported from the regions of the Theocritan to the level of the +Anacreontic ode, from the pastoral, of which he had had too much, to the +aristocratic, of which he felt that he could not have enough. It was a +natural feeling in a very young man of his limited experience. + +He stayed some hours at the vicarage. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose thought +him changed in the short time which had elapsed since they had seen him. +He had grown more grave; he was certainly more of a man. The great +contest he had just sustained with so much honour had left upon his young +face its mark, an air of power which had not formerly been visible there; +even his voice seemed to have grown deeper and rounder, and his words +carried more weight. The good vicar, who had seen several generations +of students, already distinguished in John Short the budding "don," and +rubbed his hands with great satisfaction. + +John asked few questions but found himself obliged to answer many +concerning his recent efforts. He would have liked to say something about +Mrs. Goddard, but he remembered with some awe and much aversion the +circumstances in which he had last quitted the vicarage, and he held his +peace; whereby he again rose in Mrs. Ambrose's estimation. He made up for +his silence by speaking effusively of the squire's kindness in asking him +to the Hall; forgetting perhaps the relief he had felt when he escaped +from Billingsfield after Christmas without being again obliged to shake +hands with Mr. Juxon. Things looked very differently now, however. He +felt himself to be somebody in the world, and that distressing sense of +inferiority which had perhaps been at the root of his jealousy against +the squire was gone, swallowed in the sense of triumph. His face was +pale, perhaps, from overwork, but there was a brilliancy in his eyes and +an incisiveness in his speech which came from the confidence of victory. +He now desired nothing more than to meet the squire, feeling sure that he +should receive his congratulations, and though he stayed some hours in +conversation with his old friends, in imagination he was already at the +Hall. The squire had not come down to meet him, as he had proposed, but +he had sent his outlandish American gig with his groom to fetch John. +While he was at the vicarage the latter was probably too much occupied +with conversation to notice that Mr. Ambrose seemed preoccupied and +changed, and the vicar was to some extent recalled to his usual manner by +the presence of his pupil. Mrs. Ambrose had taxed her husband with +concealing something from her ever since the previous day, but the good +man was obstinate and merely said that he felt unaccountably nervous and +irritable, and begged her to excuse his mood. Mrs. Ambrose postponed her +cross-examination until a more favourable opportunity should present +itself. + +John got into the gig and drove away. He was to return with the squire to +dinner in the evening, and he fully expected that Mrs. Goddard and Nellie +would be of the party--it seemed hardly likely that they should be +omitted. Indeed, soon after John had left a note arrived at the vicarage +explaining that Mrs. Goddard was much better and would certainly come, +according to Mrs. Ambrose's very kind invitation. + +It is unnecessary to dwell upon the meeting which took place between Mr. +Juxon and John Short. The squire was hospitable in the extreme and +expressed his great satisfaction at having John under his own roof at +last. He was perhaps, like the vicar, a little nervous, but the young man +did not notice it, being much absorbed by the enjoyment of his good +fortune and of the mental rest he so greatly needed. Mr. Juxon +congratulated him warmly and expressed a hope, amounting to certainty, +that John might actually be at the head of the Tripos; to which John +modestly replied that he would be quite satisfied to be in the first ten, +knowing in his heart that he should be most bitterly disappointed if he +were second to any one. He sat opposite to his host in a deep chair +beside the fire in the library and revelled in comfort and ease, enjoying +every trifle that fell in his way, feeling only a very slight diffidence +in regard to himself for the present and none at all for the future. The +squire was so cordial that he felt himself thoroughly at home. Indeed Mr. +Juxon already rejoiced at his wisdom in asking John to the Hall. The lad +was strong, hopeful, well-balanced in every respect and his presence was +an admirable tonic to the almost morbid state of anxiety in which the +squire had lived ever since his interview with Policeman Gall, two days +before. In the sunshine of John's young personality, fears grew small and +hope grew big. The ideas which had passed through Mr. Juxon's brain on +the previous evening, just after Mr. Ambrose had warned him of Goddard's +intentions, seemed now like the evil shadows of a nightmare. All +apprehension lest the convict should attempt to execute his threats +disappeared like darkness before daylight, and in the course of an hour +or two the squire found himself laughing and chatting with his guest as +though there were no such things as forgery or convicts in the world. The +afternoon passed very pleasantly between the examination of Mr. Juxon's +treasures and the conversation those objects elicited. For John, who was +an accomplished scholar, had next to no knowledge of bibliology and took +delight in seeing for the first time many a rare edition which he had +heard mentioned or had read of in the course of his studies. He would not +have believed that he could be now talking on such friendly terms with a +man for whom he had once felt the strongest antipathy, and Mr. Juxon on +his part felt that in their former meetings he had not done full justice +to the young man's undoubted talents. + +As they drove down to the vicarage that evening Mrs. Goddard's name was +mentioned for the first time. John, with a fine affectation of +indifference, asked how she was. + +"She has not been very well lately," answered Mr. Juxon. + +"What has been the matter?" inquired John, who could not see his +companion's face in the dark shade of the trees. + +"Headache, I believe," returned the squire laconically, and silence +ensued for a few moments. "I should not wonder if it rained again this +evening," he added presently as they passed through the park gate, out +into the road. The sky was black and it was hard to see anything beyond +the yellow streak of light which fell from the lamps and ran along the +road before the gig. + +"If it turns out a fine night, don't come for us. We will walk home," +said the squire to the groom as they descended before the vicarage and +Stamboul, who had sat on the floor between them, sprang down to the +ground. + +John was startled when he met Mrs. Goddard. He was amazed at the change +in her appearance for which no one had prepared him. She met him indeed +very cordially but he felt as though she were not the same woman he had +known so short a time before. There was still in her face that delicate +pathetic expression which had at first charmed him, there was still the +same look in her eyes; but what had formerly seemed so attractive seemed +now exaggerated. Her cheeks looked wan and hollow and there were deep +shadows about her eyes and temples; her lips had lost their colour and +the lines about her mouth had suddenly become apparent where John had not +before suspected them. She looked ten years older as she put her thin +hand in his and smiled pleasantly at his greeting. Some trite phrase +about the "ravages of time" crossed John's mind and gave him a +disagreeable sensation, for which it was hard to account. He felt as +though his dream were suddenly dead and a strange reality had taken life +in its place. Could this be she to whom he had written verses by the +score, at whose smile he had swelled with pride, at whose careless laugh +he had trembled with shame? She was terribly changed, she looked +positively old--what John called old. As he sat by her side talking and +wondering whether he would fall back into those same grooves of +conversation he had associated with her formerly, he felt something akin +to pity for her, which he had certainly never expected to feel. She was +not the same as before--even the tone of her voice was different; she was +gentle, pathetic, endowed even now with many charms, but she was not +the woman he had dreamed of and tried to speak to of the love he fancied +was in his heart. She talked--yes; but there were long pauses, and her +eyes wandered strangely from him, often towards the windows of the +vicarage drawing-room, often towards the doors; her answers were not +always to the point and her interest seemed to flag in what was said. +John could not fail to notice too that both Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon +treated her with the kind of attention which is bestowed upon invalids, +and the vicar's wife was constantly doing something to make her +comfortable, offering her a footstool, shading the light from her eyes, +asking if she felt any draught where she sat. These were things no one +had formerly thought of doing for Mrs. Goddard, who in spite of her sad +face had been used to laugh merrily enough with the rest, and whose lithe +figure had seemed to John the embodiment of youthful activity. At last he +ventured to ask her a question. + +"Have you been ill, Mrs. Goddard?" he inquired in a voice full of +interest. Her soft eyes glanced uneasily at him. He was now the only one +of the party who was not in some degree acquainted with her troubles. + +"Oh no!" she answered nervously. "Only a little headache. It always makes +me quite wretched when I have it." + +"Yes. I often have headaches, too," answered John. "The squire told me as +we came down." + +"What did he tell you?" asked Mrs. Goddard so quickly as to startle her +companion. + +"Oh--only that you had not been very well. Where is it that you suffer?" +he asked sympathetically. "I think it is worst when it seems to be in +the very centre of one's head, like a red-hot nail being driven in with a +hammer--is that like what you feel?" + +"I--yes, I daresay. I don't quite know," she answered, her eyes wandering +uneasily about the room. "I suppose you have dreadful headaches over +your work, do you not, Mr. Short?" she added quickly, feeling that she +must say something. + +"Oh, it is all over now," said John rather proudly. But as he leaned back +in his chair he said to himself that this meeting was not precisely what +he had anticipated; the subject of headaches might have a fine interest +in its way, but he had expected to have talked of more tender things. To +his own great surprise he felt no desire to do so, however. He had not +recovered from the shock of seeing that Mrs. Goddard had grown old. + +"Yes," said she, kindly. "How glad you must be! To have done so +splendidly too--you must feel that you have realised a magnificent +dream." + +"No," said John. "I cannot say I do. I have done the thing I meant to do, +or I have good reason to believe that I have; but I have not realised my +dream. I shall never write any more odes, Mrs. Goddard." + +"Why not? Oh, you mean to me, Mr. Short?" she added with something of her +old manner. "Well, you know, it is much better that you should not." + +"Perhaps so," answered John rather sadly. "I don't know. Frankly, Mrs. +Goddard, did not you sometimes think I was very foolish last Christmas?" + +"Very," she said, smiling at him kindly. "But I think you have changed. I +think you are more of a man, now--you have something more serious--" + +"I used to think I was very serious, and so I was," said John, with the +air of a man who refers to the follies of his long past youth. "Do you +remember how angry I was when you wanted me to skate with Miss Nellie?" + +"Oh, I only said that to teaze you," Mrs. Goddard answered. "I daresay +you would be angry now, if I suggested the same thing." + +"No," said John quietly. "I do not believe I should be. As you say, I +feel very much older now than I did then." + +"The older we grow the more we like youth," said Mary Goddard, +unconsciously uttering one of the fundamental truths of human nature, and +at the same time so precisely striking the current of John's thoughts +that he started. He was wondering within himself why it was that she now +seemed too old for him, whereas a few short months ago she had seemed to +be of his own age. + +"How true that is!" he exclaimed. Mrs. Goddard laughed faintly. + +"You are not old enough to have reached that point yet, Mr. Short," she +said. "Really, here we are moralising like a couple of old philosophers!" + +"This is a moralising season," answered John. "When we last met, it was +all holly-berries and Christmas and plum-pudding." + +"How long ago that seems!" exclaimed the poor lady with a sigh. + +"Ages!" echoed John, sighing in his turn, but not so much for sadness, it +may be, as from relief that the great struggle was over. That time of +anxiety and terrible effort seemed indeed very far removed from him, but +its removal was a cause of joy rather than of sadness. He sighed like a +man who, sitting over his supper, remembers the hard fought race he has +won in the afternoon, feeling yet in his limbs the ability to race and +win again but feeling in his heart the delicious consciousness that the +question of his superiority has been decided beyond all dispute. + +"And now you will stay here a long time, of course," said Mrs. Goddard +presently. + +"I am stopping at the Hall, just now," said John with a distinct sense of +the importance of the fact, "and after a week I shall stay here a few +days. Then I shall go to London to see my father." + +"No one will be so glad as he to hear of your success." + +"No indeed. I really think it is more for his sake that I want to be +actually first," said John. "Do you know, I have so often thought how he +will look when I meet him and tell him I am the senior classic." + +John's voice trembled and as Mrs. Goddard looked at him, she thought she +saw a moisture in his eyes. It pleased her to see it, for it showed that +John Short had more heart than she had imagined. + +"I can fancy that," she said, warmly. "I envy you that moment." + +Presently the squire came over to where they were sitting and joined +them; and then Mrs. Ambrose spoke to John, and Nellie came and asked him +questions. Strange to say John felt none of that annoyance which he +formerly felt when his conversations with Mrs. Goddard were interrupted, +and he talked with Nellie and Mrs. Ambrose quite as readily as with her. +He felt very calm and happy that night, as though he had done with the +hard labour of life. In half an hour he had realised that he was no more +in love with Mrs. Goddard than he was with Mrs. Ambrose, and he was +trying to explain to himself how it was that he had ever believed in such +a palpable absurdity. Love was doubtless blind, he thought, but he was +surely not so blind as to overlook the evidences of Mrs. Goddard's age. +All the dreams of that morning faded away before the sight of her face, +and so deep is the turpitude of the best of human hearts that John was +almost ashamed of having once thought he loved her. That was probably the +best possible proof that his love had been but a boyish fancy. + +What the little party at the vicarage would have been like, if John's +presence had not animated it, would be hard to say. The squire and Mr. +Ambrose treated Mrs. Goddard with the sort of paternal but solemn care +which is usually bestowed either upon great invalids or upon persons +bereaved of some very dear relation. The two elder men occasionally +looked at her and exchanged glances when they were not observed by Mrs. +Ambrose, wondering perhaps what would next befall the unfortunate lady +and whether she could bear much more of the excitement and anxiety to +which she had of late been subjected. On the whole the conversation was +far from being lively, and Mrs. Goddard herself felt that it was a relief +when the hour came for going home. + +The vicar had ordered his dog-cart for her and Nellie, but as the night +had turned out better than had been expected Mr. Juxon's groom had not +come down from the Hall. Both he and John would be glad of the walk; it +had not rained for two days and the roads were dry. + +"Look here," said the squire, as they rose to take their leave, "Mr. +Short had better go as far as the cottage in the dog-cart, to see Mrs. +Goddard home. I will go ahead on foot--I shall probably be there as soon +as you. There is not room for us all, and somebody must go with her, you +know. Besides," he added, "I have got Stamboul with me." + +Mrs. Goddard, who was standing beside the squire, laid her hand +beseechingly upon his arm. + +"Oh, pray don't," she said in low voice. "Why have you not got your +carriage?" + +"Never mind me," he answered in the same tone. "I am all right, I like to +walk." + +Before she could say anything more, he had shaken hands with Mr. and Mrs. +Ambrose and was gone. Perhaps in his general determination to be good to +everybody he fancied that John would enjoy the short drive with Mrs. +Goddard better than the walk with himself. + +But when he was gone, Mrs. Goddard grew very nervous. One of her wraps +could not be found, and while search was being made for it the motherly +Mrs. Ambrose insisted upon giving her something hot, in the way of brandy +and water. She looked very ill, but showed the strongest desire to go. It +was no matter about the shawl, she said; Mr. Ambrose could send it in the +morning; but the thing was found and at last Mrs. Goddard and Nellie and +John got into the dog-cart with old Reynolds and drove off. All these +things consumed some time. + +The squire on the other hand strode briskly forward towards the cottage, +not wishing to keep John waiting for him. As he walked his mind wandered +back to the consideration of the almost tragic events which were +occurring in the peaceful village. He forgot all about John, as he looked +up at the half moon which struggled to give some light through the +driving clouds; he fell to thinking of Mrs. Goddard and to wondering +where her husband might be lying hidden. The road was lonely and he +walked fast, with Stamboul close at his heel. The dog-cart did not +overtake him before he reached the cottage, and he forgot all about it. +By sheer force of habit he opened the white gate and, closing it behind +him, entered the park alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the +vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she +betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave +face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid +since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about +him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to +offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and +had been very much surprised at the squire's sudden determination to walk +home; he would gladly have seized his hat and run after his friend, but +he feared Mrs. Ambrose's curiosity and moreover on reflection felt sure +that the dog-cart would overtake Mr. Juxon before he was half way to the +cottage. He was very far from suspecting him of the absence of mind which +he actually displayed, but it was a great relief to him to see the little +party safe in the dog-cart and on the way homeward. + +Mrs. Goddard was on the front seat with old Reynolds, and John, who would +have preferred to sit by her side a few months ago, was glad to find +himself behind with Nellie. It was a curious instinct, but he felt it +strongly and was almost grateful to the old man for stolidly keeping his +seat. So he sat beside Nellie and talked to her, to the child's intense +delight; she had not enjoyed the evening very much, for she felt the +general sense of oppression as keenly as children always feel such +things, and she had long exhausted the slender stock of illustrated books +which lay upon the table in the vicarage drawing-room. + +"There is no more skating now," said John. "What do you do to amuse +yourselves?" + +"I am studying history with mamma," answered Nellie, "and that takes ever +so much time, you know. And then--oh, we are beginning to think of the +spring, and we look after the violet plants in the frames." + +"It does not feel much like spring," remarked John. + +"No--and mamma has not been well lately, so we have not done much of +anything." + +"Has she been ill long?" asked John. + +"No--oh no! Only the last two or three days, ever since--" Nellie stopped +herself. Her mother had told her not to mention the tramp's visit. + +"Ever since when?" asked John, becoming suddenly interested. + +"Ever since the last time the Ambroses came to tea," said Nellie with a +readiness beyond her years. "But she looks dreadfully, does not she?" + +"Dreadfully," answered John. Then, leaning back and turning his head he +spoke to Mrs. Goddard. "I hope you are quite warm enough?" he said. + +"Quite--thanks," answered she, but her voice sounded tremulous in the +night. It might have been the shaking of the dog-cart. In a few minutes +they drew up before the door of the cottage. John sprang to the ground +and almost lifted Mrs. Goddard from the high seat. + +"Where is Mr. Juxon?" she asked anxiously. + +John looked round, peering into the gloom. A black cloud driven by the +strong east wind was passing over the moon, and for some moments it was +almost impossible to see anything. The squire was nowhere to be seen. +John turned and helped Nellie off the back seat of the dog-cart. + +"I am afraid we must have passed him," he said quietly. Formerly Mrs. +Goddard's tone of anxiety as she asked for the squire would have roused +John's resentment; he now thought nothing of it. Reynolds prepared to +move off. + +"Won't you please wait a moment, Reynolds?" said Mrs. Goddard, going +close to the old man. She could not have told why she asked him to stay, +it was a nervous impulse. + +"Why?" asked John. "You know I am going to the Hall." + +"Yes, of course. I only thought, perhaps, you and Mr. Juxon would like to +drive up--it is so dark. I am sure Mr. Ambrose would not mind you taking +the gentlemen up to the Hall, Reynolds?" + +"No m'm. I'm quite sure as he wouldn't," exclaimed Reynolds with great +alacrity. He immediately had visions of a pint of beer in the Hall +kitchen. + +"You do not think Mr. Juxon may have gone on alone, Mr. Short?" said Mrs. +Goddard, leaning upon the wicket gate. Her face looked very pale in the +gloom. + +"No--at would be very odd if he did," replied John, who had his hands in +his greatcoat pockets and slowly stamped one foot after another on the +hard ground, to keep himself warm. + +"Then we must have passed him on the road," said Mrs. Goddard. "But I was +so sure I saw nobody--" + +"I think he will come presently," answered John in a reassuring tone. +"Why do you wait, Mrs. Goddard? You must be cold, and it is dangerous for +you to be out here. Don't wait, Reynolds," he added; "we will walk up." + +"Oh please don't," cried Mrs. Goddard, imploringly. + +John looked at her in some surprise. The cloud suddenly passed from +before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly. +He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he +supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition. Reynolds +on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but +sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry, +the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a +feeble and antiquated fashion. For some minutes there was total silence. +Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save +the strong east wind rushing past the cottage and losing itself among the +withered oaks of the park opposite. + +Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air. +Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul!" The squire's ringing voice was heard far up the +park. The bloodhound's distant baying suddenly ceased. John thought he +heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the +sighing wind. Then there was silence again. Mrs. Goddard leaned back +against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed +close to her mother's side. + +"Why--he has gone up the park!" exclaimed John in great surprise. "He was +calling to his dog--" + +"Oh, Mr. Short!" cried Mrs. Goddard in agonised tones, as soon as she +could speak, "I am sure something dreadful has happened--do go. Mr. +Short--do go and see--" + +Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon +John. + +"Stay with Mrs. Goddard, Reynolds," he said quickly and darted across the +road towards the park gate. John was strong and active. He laid his +hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the +top of his speed up the dark avenue. + +Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone, +swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel +in the gloom. He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the +afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he +had felt before his guest's coming. But in the short walk of scarcely +half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become +entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. Goddard's strange position, and for +the moment John was quite forgotten. He entered the park and the long +iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a +sharp click. Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly +behind him. At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned +sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground, +where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere. As he came towards this +hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him. Had the wind been +in the opposite direction, Stamboul's sharp nostrils would have scented +danger. As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire's +heels. The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as +has been seen, by a sweeping cloud. The squire turned to the right and +tramped along the hard road. + +At the darkest spot in the way a man sprang out suddenly before him and +struck a quick blow at his head with something heavy. But it was very +dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded +frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it passed +and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side. +At the same instant--it all happened in the space of two seconds, +Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the +shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent +him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he +leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the +murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover +himself and turn to spring again, Walter Goddard, who had chanced never +to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and +fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before +the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the +bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying +note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the +ditch and followed him into the gloom. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty +yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream +broke the silence. + +A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the +prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no +easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the +moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees +upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his +heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for +an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim +limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul +writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire +glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering +moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly +wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was. + +It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man +thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his +strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was +impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he +should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the +scene of the disaster. + +"Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park. + +"This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's +quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a +moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he +saw. + +"Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he +added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr. +Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is +alive?" + +John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by +Goddard's body and looked into his face. + +"Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it +seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or +dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and +felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all +living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter +Goddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not +distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground. + +"I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and +drew back a little way from the body. + +"Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon, +and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul +by his side. + +John shuddered when he was left alone. It was indeed a dismal scene +enough. At his feet lay Walter Goddard's body, faintly illuminated by the +struggling moonbeams; all around and overhead the east wind was howling +and whistling and sighing in the dry oak branches, whirling hither and +thither the few brown leaves that had clung to their hold throughout the +long winter; the sound of the squire's rapidly retreating footsteps grew +more faint in the distance; John felt that he was alone and was very +uncomfortable. He would have liked to go back to the cottage and tell +Mrs. Goddard of what had happened, and that Mr. Juxon was safe; but he +thought the squire might return and find that he had left his post and +accuse him of cowardice. He drew back from the man's body and sheltered +himself from the wind, leaning against the broad trunk of an old oak +tree. He had not stood thus many minutes when he heard the sound of +wheels upon the hard road. It might be Mrs. Goddard, he thought. With one +more glance at the prostrate body, he turned away and hurried through the +trees towards the avenue. The bright lamps of the dog-cart were almost +close before him. He shouted to Reynolds. + +"Whoa, January!" ejaculated that ancient functionary as he pulled up +Strawberry close to John Short. Why the natives of Essex and especially +of Billingsfield habitually address their beasts of burden as "January" +is a matter best left to the discrimination of philologers; obedient to +the familiar words however, Strawberry stood still in the middle of the +road. John could see that Mrs. Goddard was seated by the side of Reynolds +but that Nellie was not in the cart. + +"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, is that you?" said John. "Mr. Juxon will be here in a +moment. Don't be frightened--he is not hurt in the least; awfully bad +luck for the tramp, though!" + +"The tramp?" repeated Mrs. Goddard with a faint cry of horror. + +"Yes," said John, whose spirits rose wonderfully in the light of the +dog-cart lamps. "There was a poor tramp hanging about the park--poaching, +very likely--and Mr. Juxon's dog got after him, somehow, I suppose. I do +not know how it happened, but when I came up--oh! here is Mr. Juxon +himself--he will tell you all about it." + +The squire came up in breathless haste, having locked Stamboul into the +house. + +"Good Heavens! Mrs. Goddard!" he ejaculated in a tone of profound +surprise. But Mrs. Goddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the +step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's +shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had +fainted. The old man seemed not to comprehend what had happened; he +had never experienced the sensation of having a lady leaning upon his +shoulder, and he looked down at her with a half idiotic smile on his +deeply furrowed face. + +"She's took wuss, sir," he remarked. "She was all for comin' up the park +as soon as Master John was gone. She warn't feelin' herself o' no account +t' evenin'." + +"Look here, Mr. Short," said the squire decisively. "I must ask you to +take Mrs. Goddard home again and call her women to look after her. I +fancy she will come to herself before long. Do you mind?" + +"Not in the least," said John cheerfully, mounting at the back of the +dog-cart. + +"And--Reynolds--bring Mr. Short back to the Hall immediately, please, and +you shall have some beer." + +"All right, sir." + +John supported the fainting lady with one arm, turning round upon his +seat at the back. Old Strawberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and +trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going +home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter +Goddard had fallen. + +The squire knelt down and tried to ascertain the extent of the man's +injuries; as far as he could see there was a bad wound at his throat, and +one hand was much mangled. But there seemed to have been no great flow of +blood. He tore open the smock-frock and shirt and put his ear to the +heart. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear it beat. Walter Goddard was +alive still--alive to live for years perhaps, the squire reflected; to +live in a prison, it was true, but to live. To describe his feelings in +that moment would be impossible. Had he found the convict dead, it would +be useless to deny that he would have felt a very great satisfaction, +tempered perhaps by some pity for the wretched man's miserable end, but +still very great. It would have seemed such a just end, after all; to be +killed in the attempt to kill, and to have died not by the squire's hand +but by the sharp strong jaws of the hound who had once before saved the +squire's life. But he was alive. It would not take much to kill him; a +little pressure on his wounded throat would be enough. Even to leave +him there, uncared for, till morning in the bleak wind, lying upon the +cold ground, would be almost certain to put an end to his life. But to +the honour of Charles James Juxon be it said that such thoughts never +crossed his mind. He pulled off his heavy ulster greatcoat, wrapped it +about the felon's insensible body, then, kneeling, raised up his head and +shoulders, got his strong arms well round him and with some difficulty +rose to his feet. Once upright, it was no hard matter to carry his +burthen through the trees to the road, and up the avenue to his own door. + +"Holmes," said Mr. Juxon to his butler, "this man is badly hurt, but he +is alive. Help me to carry him upstairs." + +There was that in the squire's voice which brooked neither question nor +delay when he was in earnest. The solemn butler took Walter Goddard by +the feet and the squire took him by the shoulders; so they carried him up +to a bedroom and laid him down, feeling for the bed in the dark as they +moved. Holmes then lit a candle with great calmness. + +"Shall I send for the medical man, sir?" he asked quietly. + +"Yes. Send the gig as fast as possible. If he is not at home, or cannot +be found, send on to the town. If anybody asks questions say the man is a +tramp who attacked me in the park and Stamboul pulled him down. Send at +once, and bring me some brandy and light the fire here." + +"Yes, sir," said Holmes, and left the room. + +Mr. Juxon lighted other candles and examined the injured man. There was +now no doubt that he was alive. He breathed faintly but regularly; his +pulse beat less rapidly and more firmly. His face was deadly pale and +very thin, and his half-opened eyes stared unconsciously upwards, but +they were not glazed nor death-like. He seemed to have lost little +blood, comparatively speaking. + +"Bah!" ejaculated the squire. "I believe he is only badly frightened, +after all." + +Holmes brought brandy and warm water and again left the room. Mr. Juxon +bathed Goddard's face and neck with a sponge, eying him suspiciously all +the while. It would not have surprised him at any moment if he had leaped +from the bed and attempted to escape. To guard against surprise, the +squire locked the door and put the key in his pocket, watching the +convict to see whether he noticed the act or was really unconscious. But +Goddard never moved nor turned his motionless eyeballs. Mr. Juxon +returned to his side, and with infinite care began to remove his clothes. +They were almost in rags. He examined each article, and was surprised to +find money in the pockets, amounting to nearly sixty pounds; then he +smiled to himself, remembering that the convict had visited his wife and +had doubtless got the money from her to aid him in his escape. He put the +notes and gold carefully together in a drawer after counting them, and +returning to his occupation succeeded at last in putting Goddard to bed, +after staunching his wounds as well as he could with handkerchiefs. + +He stood long by the bedside, watching the man's regular breathing, and +examining his face attentively. Many strange thoughts passed through his +mind, as he stood there, looking at the man who had caused such misery to +himself, such shame and sorrow to his fair wife, such disappointment to +the honest man who was now trying to save him from the very grasp of +death. So this was Mary Goddard's husband, little Nellie's father--this +grimy wretch, whose foul rags lay heaped there in the corner, whose +miserable head pressed the spotless linen of the pillow, whose +half-closed eyes stared up so senselessly at the squire's face. This was +the man for whose sake Mary Goddard started and turned pale, fainted and +grew sick, languished and suffered so much pain. No wonder she concealed +it from Nellie--no wonder she had feared lest after many years he should +come back and claim her for his wife--no wonder either that a man with +such a face should do bad deeds. + +Mr. Juxon was a judge of faces; persons accustomed for many years to +command men usually are. He noted Walter Goddard's narrow jaw and pointed +chin, his eyes set near together, his wicked lips, parted and revealing +sharp jagged teeth, his ill-shaped ears and shallow temples, his flat low +forehead, shown off by his cropped hair. And yet this man had once been +called handsome, he had been admired and courted. But then his hair had +hidden the shape of his head, his long golden moustache had covered his +mouth and disguised all his lower features, he had been arrayed by +tailors of artistic merit, and he had had much gold in his pockets. He +was a very different object now--the escaped convict, close cropped, with +a half-grown beard upon his ill-shaped face, and for all ornament a linen +sheet drawn up under his chin. + +The squire was surprised that he did not recover consciousness, seeing +that he breathed regularly and was no longer so pale as at first. A faint +flush seemed to rise to his sunken cheeks, and for a long time Mr. Juxon +stood beside him, expecting every moment that he would speak. Once he +thought his lips moved a little. Then Mr. Juxon took a little brandy in a +spoon and raising his head poured it down his throat. The effect was +immediate. Goddard opened wide his eyes, the blood mounted to his cheeks +with a deep flush, and he uttered an inarticulate sound. + +"What did you say?" asked the squire, bending over him. + +But there was no answer. The sick man's head fell back upon the pillow, +though his eyes remained wide open and the flush did not leave his +cheeks. His pulse was now very high, and his breathing grew heavy and +stertorous. + +"I hope I have not made him any worse," remarked Mr. Juxon aloud, as he +contemplated his patient. "But if he is going to die, I wish he would die +now." + +The thought was charitable, on the whole. If Walter Goddard died then and +there, he would be buried in a nameless grave under the shadow of the +old church; no one would ever know that he was the celebrated forger, the +escaped convict, the husband of Mary Goddard. If he lived--heaven alone +knew what complications would follow if he lived. + +There was a knock at the door. Mr. Juxon drew the key from his pocket and +opened it. Holmes the butler stood outside. + +"Mr. Short has come back, sir. He asked if you wished to see him." + +"Ask him to come here," replied the squire, to whom the tension of +keeping his solitary watch was becoming very irksome. In a few moments +John entered the room, looking pale and nervous. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +John Short was in absolute ignorance of what was occurring. He attributed +Mrs. Goddard's anxiety to her solicitude for Mr. Juxon, and if he had +found time to give the matter serious consideration, he would have argued +very naturally that she was fond of the squire. It had been less easy +than the latter had supposed to take her home and persuade her to stay +there, for she was in a state in which she hardly understood reason. +Nothing but John's repeated assurances to the effect that Mr. Juxon was +not in the least hurt, and that he would send her word of the condition +of the wounded tramp, prevailed upon her to remain at the cottage; for +she had come back to consciousness before the dog-cart was fairly out of +the park and had almost refused to enter her own home. + +The catastrophe had happened, after eight and forty hours of suspense, +and her position was one of extreme fear and doubt. She had indeed seen +the squire at the very moment when she fainted, but the impression was +uncertain as that of a dream, and it required all John's asseverations to +persuade her that Mr. Juxon had actually met her and insisted that she +should return to the cottage. Once there, in her own house, she abandoned +herself to the wildest excitement, shutting herself into the drawing-room +and refusing to see anyone; she gave way to all her sorrow and fear, +feeling that if she controlled herself any longer she must go mad. Indeed +it was the best thing she could do, for her nerves were overstrained, and +the hysterical weeping which now completely overpowered her for some +time, was the natural relief to her overwrought system. She had not the +slightest doubt that the tramp of whom John had spoken, and whom he had +described as badly hurt, was her husband; and together with her joy at +Mr. Juxon's escape, she felt an intolerable anxiety to know Walter's +fate. If in ordinary circumstances she had been informed that he had died +in prison, it would have been absurd to expect her to give way to any +expressions of excessive grief; she would perhaps have shed a few womanly +tears and for some time she would have been more sad than usual; but she +no longer loved him and his death could only be regarded as a release +from all manner of trouble and shame and evil foreboding. With his +decease would have ended her fears for poor Nellie, her apprehensions for +the future in case he should return and claim her, the whole weight of +her humiliation, and if she was too kind to have rejoiced over such a +termination of her woes, she was yet too sensible not to have fully +understood and appreciated the fact of her liberation and of the freedom +given to the child she loved, by the death of a father whose return could +bring nothing but disgrace. But now she did not know whether Walter were +alive or dead. If he was alive he was probably so much injured as to +preclude all possibility of his escaping, and he must inevitably be given +up to justice, no longer to imprisonment merely, but by his own +confession to suffer the death of a murderer. If on the other hand he +was already dead, he had died a death less shameful indeed, but of which +the circumstances were too horrible for his wife to contemplate, for he +must have been torn to pieces by Stamboul the bloodhound. + +She unconsciously comprehended all these considerations, which entirely +deprived her of the power to weigh them in her mind, for her mind was +temporarily loosed from all control of the reasoning faculty. She had +borne much during the last three days, but she could bear no more; +intellect and sensibility were alike exhausted and gave way together. +There were indeed moments, intervals in the fits of hysteric tears +and acute mental torture, when she lay quite still in her chair and +vaguely asked herself what it all meant, but her disturbed consciousness +gave no answer to the question, and presently her tears broke out afresh +and she tossed wildly from side to side, or walked hurriedly up and down +the room, wringing her hands in despair, sobbing aloud in her agony and +again abandoning herself to the uncontrolled exaggerations of her grief +and terror. One consolation alone presented itself at intervals to her +confused intelligence; Mr. Juxon was safe. Whatever other fearful thing +had happened, he was safe, saved perhaps by her warning--but what was +that, if Walter had escaped death only to die at the hands of the +hangman, or had found it in the jaws of that fearful bloodhound? What was +the safety even of her best friend, if poor Nellie was to know that her +father was alive, only to learn that he was to die again? + +But human suffering cannot outlast human strength; as a marvellous +adjustment of forces has ordered that even at the pole, in the regions of +boundless and perpetual cold, the sea shall not freeze to the bottom, so +there is also in human nature a point beyond which suffering cannot +extend. The wildest emotions must expend themselves in time, the fiercest +passions must burn out. At the end of two hours Mary Goddard was +exhausted by the vehemence of her hysteric fear, and woke as from a dream +to a dull sense of reality. She knew, now that some power of reflection +was restored to her, that the squire would give her intelligence of what +had happened, so soon as he was able, and she knew also that she must +wait until the morning before any such message could reach her. She took +the candle from the table and went upstairs. Nellie was asleep, but her +mother felt a longing to look at her again that night, not knowing what +misery for her child the morrow might bring forth. + +Nellie lay asleep in her bed, her rich brown hair plaited together and +thrown back across the pillow. The long dark fringes of her eyelashes +cast a shade upon the transparent colour of her cheek, and the light +breath came softly through her parted lips. But as Mary Goddard looked +she saw that there were still tears upon her lovely face and that the +pillow was still wet. She had cried herself to sleep, for Martha had told +her that her mother was very ill and would not see her that night; Nellie +was accustomed to say her prayers at her mother's knee every evening +before going to bed, she was used to having her mother smooth her pillow +and kiss her and put out her light, leaving her with sweet words, to wake +her with sweet words on the next morning, and to-night she had missed all +this and had been told moreover that her mother was very ill and was +acting very strangely. She had gone to bed and had cried herself to +sleep, and the tears were still upon her cheeks. Shading the light +carefully from the child's eyes, Mary Goddard bent down and kissed her +forehead once and then feeling that her sorrow was rising again she +turned and passed noiselessly from the room. + +But Nellie was dreaming peacefully and knew nothing of her mother's +visit; she slept on not knowing that scarcely a quarter of a mile away +her own father, whom she had been taught to think of as dead, was +lying at the Hall, wounded and unconscious while half the detectives in +the kingdom were looking for him. Had Nellie known that, her sleep would +have been little and her dreams few. + +There was little rest at the Hall that night. When Reynolds had driven +John back to the great house he found his way to the kitchen and got his +beer, and he became at once a centre of interest, being overwhelmed with +questions concerning the events of the evening. But he was able to say +very little except that while waiting before the cottage he had heard +strange noises from the park, that Master John had run up the avenue, +that Mrs. Goddard had taken Miss Nellie into the house and had then +insisted upon being driven towards the Hall, that they had met Master +John and the squire and that Mrs. Goddard had been "took wuss." + +Meanwhile John entered the room where Mr. Juxon was watching over Walter +Goddard. John looked pale and nervous; he had not recovered from the +unpleasant sensation of being left alone with what he believed to be a +dead body, in the struggling moonlight and the howling wind. He was by no +means timid by nature, but young nerves are not so tough as old ones and +he had felt exceedingly uncomfortable. He stood a moment within the room, +then glanced at the bed and started with surprise. + +"Why--he is not dead after all!" he exclaimed, and going nearer he looked +hard at Goddard's flushed face. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon, "he is not dead. He may be dying for all I know. I +have sent for the doctor." + +"Was he much hurt?" asked John, still looking at the sick man. "He looks +to me as though he were in a fever." + +"He does not seem so badly hurt. I cannot make it out at all. At first I +thought he was badly frightened, but I cannot bring him to consciousness. +Perhaps he has a fever, as you say. This is a most unpleasant experience, +Mr. Short--your first night at the Hall, too. Of course I am bound to +look after the man, as Stamboul did the damage--it would have served him +right if he had been killed. It was a villainous blow he gave me--I can +feel it still. The moral of it is that one should always wear a thick +ulster when one walks alone at night." + +"I did not know he struck you," said John in some surprise. + +"Jumped out of the copse at the turning and struck at me with a +bludgeon," said Mr. Juxon. "Knocked my hat off, into the bargain, and +then ran away with Stamboul after him. If I had not come up in time +there would have been nothing left of him." + +"I should say the dog saved your life," remarked John, much impressed by +the squire's unadorned tale. "What object can the fellow have had in +attacking you? Strange--his eyes are open, but he does not seem to +understand us." + +Mr. Juxon walked to the bedside and contemplated the sick man's features +with undisguised disgust. + +"You villain!" he said roughly. "Why don't you answer for yourself?" The +man did not move, and the squire began to pace the room. John was struck +by Mr. Juxon's tone: it was not like him, he thought, to speak in that +way to a helpless creature. He could not understand it. There was a long +silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Goddard. + +"Really, Mr. Short," said the squire at last, "I have no intention of +keeping you up all night. The village doctor must have been out. It may +be more than an hour before my man finds another." + +"Never mind," said John quietly. "I will wait till he comes at all +events. You may need me before it is over." + +"Do you think he looks as if he were going to die?" asked the squire +doubtfully, as he again approached the bedside. + +"I don't know," answered John, standing on the other side. "I never saw +any one die. He looks very ill." + +"Very ill. I have seen many people die--but somehow I have a strong +impression that this fellow will live." + +"Let us hope so," said John. + +"Well--" The squire checked himself. Probably the hope he would have +expressed would not have coincided with that to which John had given +utterance. "Well," he repeated, "I daresay he will. Mr. Short, are you at +all nervous? Since you are so good as to say you will wait until the +doctor comes, would you mind very much being left alone here for five +minutes?" + +"No," answered John, stoutly, "not in the least." To be left in a +well-lighted room by the bedside of Walter Goddard, ill indeed, but alive +and breathing vigorously, was very different from being requested to +watch his apparently dead body out in the park under the moonlight. + +With a word of thanks, the squire left the room, and hastened to his +study, where he proceeded to write a note, as follows:-- + +"MY DEAR MR. AMBROSE--The man we were speaking of yesterday morning +actually attacked me this evening. Stamboul worried him badly, but he is +not dead. He is lying here, well cared for, and I have sent for the +doctor. If convenient to you, would you come in the morning? I need not +recommend discretion.--Sincerely yours, + +"C.J. JUXON. +_N.B._--I am not hurt." + +Having ascertained that Reynolds was still in the kitchen, the missive +was given to the old man with an injunction to use all speed, as the +vicar might be going to bed and the note was important. + +John, meanwhile, being left alone sat down near the wounded man's bed and +waited, glancing at the flushed face and staring eyes from time to time, +and wondering whether the fellow would recover. The young scholar had +been startled by all that had occurred, and his ideas wandered back to +the beginning of the evening, scarcely realising that a few hours ago he +had not met Mrs. Goddard, had not experienced a surprising change in his +feelings towards her, had not witnessed the strange scene under the +trees. It seemed as though all these things had occupied a week at the +very least, whereas on that same afternoon he had been speculating upon +his meeting with Mrs. Goddard, calling up her features to his mind as he +had last seen them, framing speeches which when the meeting came he had +not delivered, letting his mind run riot in the delicious anticipation of +appearing before her in the light of a successful competitor for one of +the greatest honours of English scholarship. And yet in a few hours all +his feelings were changed, and to his infinite surprise, were changed +without any suffering to himself; he knew well that, for some reason, +Mrs. Goddard had lost the mysterious power of making him blush, and of +sending strange thrills through his whole nature when he sat at her side; +with some justice he attributed his new indifference to the extraordinary +alteration in her appearance, whereby she seemed now so much older than +himself, and he forthwith moralised upon the mutability of human affairs, +with all the mental fluency of a very young man whose affairs are still +extremely mutable. He fell to musing on the accident in the park, +wondering how he would have acted in Mr. Juxon's place, wondering +especially what object could have led the wretched tramp to attack the +squire, wondering too at the very great anxiety shown by Mrs. Goddard. + +As he sat by the bedside, the sick man suddenly moved and turning his +eyes full upon John's face stared at him with a look of dazed surprise. +He thrust out his wounded hand, bound up in a white handkerchief through +which a little blood was slowly oozing, and to John's infinite surprise +he spoke. + +"Who are you?" he asked in a strange, mumbling voice, as though he had +pebbles in his mouth. + +John started forward in his chair and looked intently at Goddard's face. + +"My name is Short," he answered mechanically. But the passing flash of +intelligence was already gone, and Goddard's look became a glassy and +idiotic stare. Still his lips moved. John came nearer and listened. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" said the sick man quite +intelligibly, in spite of his uncertain tone. John uttered an exclamation +of astonishment; his heart beat fast and he listened intently. The sick +man mumbled inarticulate sounds; not another word could be distinguished. +John looked for the bell, thinking that Mr. Juxon should be informed of +the strange phenomenon at once; but before he could ring the squire +himself entered the room, having finished and despatched his note to Mr. +Ambrose. + +"It is most extraordinary," said John. "He spoke just now--" + +"What did he say?" asked Mr. Juxon very quickly. + +"He said first, 'Who are you?' and then he said 'Mary Goddard, let me +in!' Is it not most extraordinary? How in the world should he know +about Mrs. Goddard?" + +The squire turned a little pale and was silent for a moment. He had left +John with the wounded man feeling sure that, for some time at least, the +latter would not be likely to say anything intelligible. + +"Most extraordinary!" he repeated presently. Then he looked at Goddard +closely, and turned him again upon his back and put his injured hand +beneath the sheet. + +"Do you understand me? Do you know who I am?" he asked in a loud tone +close to his ear. + +But the unfortunate man gave no sign of intelligence, only his +inarticulate mumbling grew louder though not more distinct. Mr. Juxon +turned away impatiently. + +"The fellow is in a delirium," he said. "I wish the doctor would come." +He had hardly turned his back when the man spoke again. + +"Mary Goddard!" he cried. "Let me in!" + +"There!" said John. "The same words!" + +Mr. Juxon shuddered, and looked curiously at his companion; then thrust +his hands into his pockets and whistling softly walked about the room. +John was shocked at what seemed in the squire a sort of indecent levity; +he could not understand that his friend felt as though he should go mad. + +Indeed the squire suffered intensely. The name of Mary Goddard, +pronounced by the convict in his delirium brought home more vividly than +anything could have done the relation between the wounded tramp and the +woman the squire loved. It was positively true, then--there was not a +shadow of doubt left, since this wretch lay there mumbling her name in +his ravings! This was the husband of that gentle creature with sad +pathetic eyes, so delicate, so refined that it seemed as though the +coarser breath of the world of sin and shame could never come near +her--this was her husband! It was horrible. This was the father of lovely +Nellie, too. Was anything wanting to make the contrast more hideous? + +Mr. Juxon felt that it was impossible to foresee what Walter Goddard +might say in the course of another hour. He had often seen people in a +delirium and knew how strangely that inarticulate murmuring sometimes +breaks off into sudden incisive speech, astonishing every one who hears. +The man had already betrayed that he knew Mary Goddard; at the next +interval in his ravings he might betray that she was his wife. John was +still standing by the bedside, not having recovered from his +astonishment; if John heard any more, he would be in possession of Mrs. +Goddard's secret. The squire was an energetic man, equal to most +emergencies; he suddenly made up his mind. + +"Mr. Short," he said, "I will tell you something. You will see the +propriety of being very discreet, in fact it is only to ensure your +discretion that I wish to tell you this much. I have reason to believe +that this fellow is a convict--do not be surprised--escaped from prison. +He is a man who once--was in love with Mrs. Goddard, which accounts for +his having found his way to Billingsfield. Yes--I know what you are going +to say--Mrs. Goddard is aware of his presence, and that accounts for her +excitement and her fainting. Do you understand?" + +"But--good heavens!" exclaimed John in amazement. "Why did she not give +information, if she knew he was in the neighbourhood?" + +"That would be more than could be expected of any woman, Mr. Short. You +forget that the man once loved her." + +"And how did you--well, no. I won't ask any questions." + +"No," said the squire, "please don't. You would be placing me in a +disagreeable position. Not that I do not trust you implicitly, Mr. +Short," he added frankly, "but I should be betraying a confidence. If +this fellow dies here, he will be buried as an unknown tramp. I found no +trace of a name upon his clothes. If he recovers, we will decide what +course to pursue. We will do our best for him--it is a delicate case of +conscience. Possibly the poor fellow would very much prefer being allowed +to die; but we cannot let him. Humanity, for some unexplained reason, +forbids euthanasia and the use of the hemlock in such cases." + +"Was he sentenced for a long time?" asked John, very much impressed by +the gravity of the situation. + +"Twelve years originally, I believe. Aggravated by his escape and by his +assault on me, his term might very likely be extended to twenty years if +he were taken again." + +"That is to say, if he recovers?" inquired John. + +"Precisely. I do not think I would hesitate to send him back to prison if +he recovered." + +"I do not wonder you think he would rather die here, if he were +consulted," said John. "It would not be murder to let him die +peacefully--" + +"In the opinion of the law it might be called manslaughter, though I do +not suppose anything would be said if I had simply placed him here and +omitted to call in a physician. He cannot live very long in this state, +unless something is done for him immediately. Look at him." + +There was no apparent change in Goddard's condition. He lay upon his back +staring straight upward and mumbling aloud with every breath he drew. + +"He must have been ill, before he attacked me," continued Mr. Juxon, very +much as though he were talking to himself. "He evidently is in a raging +fever--brain fever I should think. That is probably the reason why he +missed his aim--that and the darkness. If he had been well he would have +killed me fast enough with that bludgeon. As you say, Mr. Short, there is +no doubt whatever that he would prefer to die here, if he had his choice. +In my opinion, too, it would be far more merciful to him and to--to him +in fact. Nevertheless, neither you nor I would like to remember that we +had let him die without doing all we could to keep him alive. It is +a very singular case." + +"Most singular," echoed John. + +"Besides--there is another thing. Suppose that he had attacked me as he +did, but that I had killed him with my stick--or that Stamboul had made +an end of him then and there. The law would have said it served him +right--would it not? Of course. But if I had not quite killed him, or, as +has actually happened, he survived the embraces of my dog, the law +insists that I ought to do everything in my power to save the remnant of +his life. What for? In order that the law may give itself the +satisfaction of dealing with him according to its lights. I think the law +is very greedy, I object to it, I think it is ridiculous from that point +of view, but then, when I come to examine the thing I find that my own +conscience tells me to save him, although I think it best that he should +die. Therefore the law is not ridiculous. Pleasant dilemma--the +impossible case! The law is at the same time ridiculous and not +ridiculous. The question is, does the law deduce itself from conscience, +or is conscience the direct result of existing law?" + +The squire appeared to be in a strangely moralising mood, and John +listened to him with some surprise. He could not understand that the good +man was talking to persuade himself, and to concentrate his faculties, +which had been almost unbalanced by the events of the evening. + +"I think," said John with remarkable good sense, "that the instinct of +man is to preserve life when he is calm. When a man is fighting with +another he is hot and tries to kill his enemy; when the fight is over, +the natural instinct returns." + +"The only thing worth knowing in such cases is the precise point at which +the fight may be said to be over. I once knew a young surgeon in India +who thought he had killed a cobra and proceeded to extract the fangs in +order to examine the poison. Unfortunately the snake was not quite dead; +he bit the surgeon in the finger and the poor fellow died in +thirty-five minutes." + +"Dreadful!" said John. "But you do not think this poor fellow could do +anything very dangerous now--do you?" + +"Oh, dear me, no!" returned the squire. "I was only stating a case to +prove that one is sometimes justified in going quite to the end of a +fight. No indeed! He will not be dangerous for some time, if he ever is +again. But, as I was saying, he must have been ill some time. Delirium +never comes on in this way, so soon--" + +Some one knocked at the door. It was Holmes, who came to say that the +physician, Doctor Longstreet, had arrived. + +"Oh--it is Doctor Longstreet is it?" said the squire. "Ask him to come +up." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Doctor Longstreet was not the freethinking physician of Billingsfield. +The latter was out when Mr. Juxon's groom went in search of him, and the +man had driven on to the town, six miles away. The doctor was an old man +with a bright eye, a deeply furrowed forehead, a bald head and clean +shaved face. He walked as though his frame were set together with springs +and there was a curious snapping quickness in his speech. He seemed full +of vitality and bore his years with a jaunty air of merriment which +inspired confidence, for he seemed perpetually laughing at the ills of +the flesh and ready to make other people laugh at them too. But his +bright eyes had a penetrating look and though he judged quickly he +generally was right in his opinion. He entered the room briskly, not +knowing that the sick man was there. + +"Now, Mr. Juxon," he said cheerfully, "I am with you." He had the habit +of announcing his presence in this fashion, as though his brisk and +active personality were likely to be overlooked. A moment later he caught +sight of the bed. "Dear me," he added in a lower voice, "I did not know +our patient was here." + +He went to Walter Goddard's side, looked at him attentively, felt his +pulse, and his forehead, glanced at the bandages the squire had roughly +put upon his throat and hand, drew up the sheet again beneath his chin +and turned sharply round. + +"Brain fever, sir," he said cheerfully. "Brain fever. You must get some +ice and have some beef tea made as soon as possible. He is in a very +bad way--curious, too; he looks like a cross between a ticket of leave +man and a gentleman. Tramp, you say? That would not prevent his being +either. You cannot disturb him--don't be afraid. He hears nothing--is +off, the Lord knows where, raving delirious. Must look to his scratches +though--dangerous--inflammation. Do you mind telling me what +happened--how long he has been here?" + +The squire in a few words informed Doctor Longstreet of the attack made +upon him in the park. The doctor looked at his watch. + +"Only two hours and a half since," he remarked. "It is just midnight now, +very good--the man must have been in a fever all day--yesterday, too, +perhaps. He is not badly hurt by the dog--like to see that dog, if you +don't mind--the fright most likely sent him into delirium. You have +nothing to accuse yourself of, Mr. Juxon: it was certainly not your +fault. Even if the dog had not bitten him, he would most likely have been +in his present state by this time. Would you mind sending for some ice at +once? Thank you. It was very lucky for the fellow that he attacked you +just when he did--secured him the chance of being well taken care of. If +he had gone off like this in the park he would have been dead before +morning." + +The squire rang and sent for the ice the doctor demanded. + +"Do you think he will live?" he asked nervously. + +"I don't know," answered Doctor Longstreet, frankly. "Nobody can tell. He +is very much exhausted--may live two or three days in this state and then +die or go to sleep and get well--may die in the morning--often do--cannot +say. With a great deal of care, I think he has a chance." + +"I am very anxious to save him," said the squire, looking hard at the +physician. + +"Very good of you, I am sure," replied Doctor Longstreet, cheerfully. "It +is not everybody who would take so much trouble for a tramp. Of course if +he dies people will say your dog killed him; but I will sign a paper to +the effect that it is not true. If he had left you and your dog alone, he +would have been dead in the morning to an absolute certainty." + +"How very extraordinary!" exclaimed the squire, suddenly realising that +instead of causing the man's death Stamboul had perhaps saved his life. + +"It was certainly very odd that he should have chosen the best moment for +assaulting you," continued the doctor. "It is quite possible that even +then he was under some delusion--took you for somebody else--some old +enemy. People do queer things in a brain fever. By the bye has he said +anything intelligible since he has been here?" + +John Short who had been standing silently by the bedside during the whole +interview looked up quickly at the squire, wondering how he would answer. +But Mr. Juxon did not hesitate. + +"Yes. Twice he repeated a woman's name. That is very natural, I suppose. +Do you think he will have any lucid moments for some time?" + +"May," said the doctor, "may. When he does it is likely to be at the +turning point; he will either die or be better very soon after. If it +comes soon he may say something intelligible. If he is much more +exhausted than he is now, he will understand you, but you will not +understand him. Meningitis always brings a partial paralysis of the +tongue, when the patient is exhausted. Most probably he will go on +moaning and mumbling, as he does now, for another day. You will be able +to tell by his eye whether he understands anything; perhaps he will make +some sign with his head or hand. Ah--here is the ice." + +Doctor Longstreet went about his operations in a rapid and business like +fashion and John gave what assistance he could. The squire stood leaning +against the chimney-piece in deep thought. + +Indeed he had enough to think of, when he had fully weighed the meaning +of the doctor's words. He was surprised beyond measure at the turn things +had taken; for although, as he had previously told John, he suspected +that Goddard must have been in a fever for several hours before the +assault, it had not struck him that Stamboul's attack had been absolutely +harmless, still less that it might prove to have been the means of saving +the convict's life. It was terribly hard to say that he desired to save +the man, and yet the honest man in his heart prayed that he might really +hope for that result. It would be far worse, should Goddard die, to +remember that he had wished for his death. But it would be hard to +imagine a more unexpected position than that in which the squire found +himself; by a perfectly natural chain of circumstances he was now tending +with the utmost care the man who had tried to murder him, and who of all +men in the world, stood most in the way of the accomplishment of his +desires. + +He could not hide from himself the fact that he hated the sick man, even +though he hoped, or tried to hope for his recovery. He hated him for the +shame and suffering he had brought upon Mary Goddard in the first +instance, for the terrible anxiety he had caused her by his escape and +sudden appearance at her house; he hated him for being what he was, being +also the father of Nellie, and he hated him honestly for his base attempt +upon himself that night. He had good cause to hate him, and perhaps he +was not ashamed of his hatred. To be called upon, however, to return good +for such an accumulated mass of evil was almost too much for his human +nature. It was but a faint satisfaction to think that if he recovered he +was to be sent back to prison. Mr. Juxon did not know that there was +blood upon the man's hands--he had yet to learn that; he would not deign +to mention the assault in the park when he handed him over to the +authorities; the man should simply go back to Portland to suffer the term +of his imprisonment, as soon as he should be well enough to be moved--if +that time ever came. If he died, he should be buried decently in a +nameless grave, "six feet by four, by two," as Thomas Reid would have +said--if he died. + +Meanwhile, however, there was yet another consideration which disturbed +the squire's meditations. Mrs. Goddard had a right to know that her +husband was dying and, if she so pleased, she had a right to be at his +bedside. But at the same time it would be necessary so to account for her +presence as not to arouse Doctor Longstreet's suspicions, nor the +comments of Holmes, the butler, and of his brigade in the servants' hall. +It was no easy matter to do this unless Mrs. Goddard were accompanied by +the vicar's wife, the excellent and maternally minded Mrs. Ambrose. To +accomplish this it would be necessary to ask the latter lady to spend a +great part of her time at the Hall in taking care of the wretched +Goddard, who would again be the gainer. But Mrs. Ambrose was as yet +ignorant of the fact that he had escaped from prison; she must be told +then, and an effort must be made to elicit her sympathy. Perhaps she and +the vicar would come and stop a few days, thought the squire. Mrs. +Goddard might then come and go as she pleased. Her presence by her +husband's bedside would then be accounted for on the ground of her +charitable disposition. + +While Mr. Juxon was revolving these things in his mind he watched the +doctor and John who were doing what was necessary for the sick man. +Goddard moaned helplessly with every breath, in a loud, monotonous tone, +very wearing to the nerves of those who heard it. + +"There is little to be done," said Doctor Longstreet at last. "He must be +fed--alternately a little beef tea and then a little weak brandy and +water. We must try and keep the system up. That is his only chance. I +will prescribe something and send it back by the groom." + +"You are not going to leave us to-night?" exclaimed the squire in alarm. + +"Must. Very sorry. Bad case of diphtheria in town--probably die before +morning, unless I get there in time--I would not have come here for any +one else. I will certainly be here before ten--he will live till then, I +fancy, and I don't believe there will be any change in his condition. +Good-night, Mr. Juxon--beef tea and brandy every quarter of an hour. +Good-night, Mr.--" he turned to John. + +"Short," said John. "Good-night, doctor." + +"Ah--I remember--used to be with Mr. Ambrose--yes. Delighted to meet you +again, Mr. Short--good-night." + +The doctor vanished, before either the squire or John had time to follow +him. His departure left an unpleasant sense of renewed responsibility in +the squire's mind. + +"You had better go to bed, Mr. Short," he said kindly. "I will sit up +with him." + +But John would not hear of any such arrangement; he insisted upon bearing +his share of the watching and stoutly refused to leave the squire alone. +There was a large dressing-room attached to the room where Goddard was +lying; the squire and John finally agreed to watch turn and turn about, +one remaining with Goddard, while the other rested upon the couch in the +dressing-room aforesaid. The squire insisted upon taking his watch first, +and John lay down. It was past midnight and he was very tired, but it +seemed impossible to sleep with the sound of that loud, monotonous +mumbling perpetually in his ears. It was a horrible night, and John Short +never forgot it so long as he lived. Years afterwards he could not enter +the room where Goddard had lain without fancying he heard that perpetual +groaning still ringing in his ears. For many hours it continued unabated +and unchanging, never dying away to silence nor developing to articulate +words. From time to time John could hear the squire's step as he moved +about, administering the nourishment prescribed. If he had had the +slightest idea of Mr. Juxon's state of mind he would hardly have left him +even to rest awhile in the next room. + +Fortunately the squire's nerves were solid. A firm constitution hardened +by thirty years of seafaring and by the consistent and temperate +regularity which was part of his character, had so toughened his natural +strength as to put him almost beyond the reach of mortal ills; otherwise +he must have broken down under the mental strain thus forced upon him. It +is no light thing to do faithfully the utmost to save a man one has good +reason to hate, and whose death would be an undoubted blessing to every +one who has anything to do with him. Walter Goddard was to Charles Juxon +at once an enemy, an obstacle and a rival; an enemy, for having attempted +his life, an obstacle, because while he lived he prevented the squire +from marrying Mrs. Goddard and a rival because she had once loved him and +for the sake of that love was still willing to sacrifice much for him. +And yet the very fact that she had loved him made it easier to be kind to +him; it seemed to the squire that, after all, in taking care of Goddard +he was in some measure serving her, too, seeing that she would have done +the same thing herself could she have been present. + +Yet there was something very generous and large-hearted in the way +Charles Juxon did his duty by the sick man. There are people who seem by +nature designed to act heroic parts in life, whose actions habitually +take an heroic form, and whose whole character is of another stamp from +that of average humanity. Of such people much is expected, because they +seem to offer much; no one is surprised to hear of their making great +sacrifices, no one is astonished if they exhibit great personal courage +in times of danger. Very often they are people of large vanity, whose +chiefest vanity is not to seem vain; gifted with great powers and always +seeking opportunities of using them, holding high ideas upon most +subjects but rarely conceiving themselves incapable of attaining to any +ideal they select for their admiration; brave in combat partly from real +courage, partly, as I have often heard officers say of a dandy soldier in +the ranks, because they are too proud to run away; but, on the whole, +heroic by temperament and in virtue of a singular compound of pride, +strength and virtue, often accomplishing really great things. They are +almost always what are called striking people, for their pride and their +strength generally attract attention by their magnitude, and something in +their mere appearance distinguishes them from the average mass. + +But Charles Juxon did not in any way belong to this type, any more than +the other persons who found themselves concerned in the events which +culminated in Goddard's illness. He was a very simple man whose pride was +wholly unconscious, who did not believe himself destined to do anything +remarkable, who regarded his own personality as rather uninteresting and +who, had he been asked about himself, would have been the first to +disclaim any sentiments of the heroic kind. With very little imagination, +he possessed great stability himself and great belief in the stability of +things in general, a character of the traditional kind known as +"northern," though it would be much more just to describe it as the +"temperate" or "central" type of man. Wherever there is exaggeration in +nature, there is exaggerated imagination in man. The solid and +unimaginative part of the English character is undeniably derived from +the Angles or from the Flemish; it is morally the best part, but it is by +all odds the least interesting--it is found in the type of man belonging +to the plains in a temperate zone, who differs in every respect from the +real northman, his distant cousin and hereditary enemy. If Charles Juxon +was remarkable for anything it was for his modesty and reticence, in a +word, for his apparent determination not to be remarkable at all. + +And now, in the extremest anxiety and difficulty, his character served +him well; for he unconsciously refused to allow to himself that his +position was extraordinary or his responsibility greater than he was +able to bear. He disliked intensely the idea of being put forward or +thrust into a dramatic situation, and he consequently failed signally to +fulfil the dramatic necessities. There was not even a struggle in his +heart between the opposite possibilities of letting Goddard die, by +merely relaxing his attention, and of redoubling his care and bringing +about his recovery. He never once asked himself, after the chances of the +patient surviving the fever were stated, whether he would not be +justified in sending for some honest housewife from the village to take +care of the tramp instead of looking to his wants himself. He simply did +his best to save the man's life, without hesitation, without suspecting +that he was doing anything extraordinary, doing, as he had always done, +the best thing that came in his way according to the best of his ability. +He could not wholly suppress the reflection that much good might ensue +from Goddard's death, but the thought never for a moment interfered with +his efforts to save the convict alive. + +But John lay in the next room, kept awake by the sick man's perpetual +groaning and by the train of thought which ran through his brain. There +were indeed more strange things than his philosophy could account for, +but the strangest of all was that the squire should know who the tramp +was; he must know it, John thought, since he knew all about him, his +former love for Mrs. Goddard and his recent presence in the +neighbourhood. The young man's curiosity was roused to its highest pitch, +and he longed to know more. He at once guessed that there must have +been much intimate confidence between Mr. Juxon and Mrs. Goddard; he +suspected moreover that there must be some strange story connected with +her, something which accounted for the peculiar stamp of a formerly +luxurious life which still clung to her, and which should explain her +residence in Billingsfield But John was very far from suspecting the real +truth. + +His mind was restless and the inaction became intolerable to him. He rose +at last and went again into the room where his friend was watching. Mr. +Juxon sat by the bedside, the very picture of patience, one leg crossed +over the other and his hands folded together upon his knee, his face +paler than usual but perfectly calm, his head bent a little to one side +and his smooth hair, which had been slightly ruffled in the encounter in +the park, as smooth as ever. It was a very distinctive feature of him; it +was part of the sleek and spotless neatness which Mrs. Ambrose so much +admired. + +"It is my turn, now," said John. "Will you lie down for a couple of +hours?" + +The squire rose. Being older and less excitable than John, he was +beginning to feel the need of rest. People who have watched often by the +sick know how terribly long are those hours of the night between three +o'clock and dawn; long always, but seeming interminable when one is +obliged to listen perpetually to a long-drawn, inarticulate moaning, a +constant effort to speak which never results in words. + +"You are very good," said Mr. Juxon, quietly. "If you will give him the +things from time to time, I will take a nap." + +With that he went and lay down upon the couch, and in three minutes was +as sound asleep as though he were in bed. John sat by the sick man and +looked at his flushed features and listened to the hard-drawn breath +followed each time by that terrible, monotonous, mumbling groan. + +It might have been three-quarters of an hour since the squire had gone to +sleep when John thought he saw a change in Goddard's face; it seemed to +him that the flush subsided from his forehead, very slowly, leaving only +a bright burning colour in his cheeks. His eyes seemed suddenly to grow +clearer and a strange look of intelligence came into them; his whole +appearance was as though illuminated by a flash of some light different +from that of the candles which burned upon the table. John rose to his +feet and came and looked at him. The groaning suddenly ceased and +Goddard's eyelids, which had been motionless for hours, moved naturally. +He appeared to be observing John's face attentively. + +"Where is the squire?" he asked quite naturally--so naturally that John +was startled. + +"Asleep in the next room," replied the latter. + +"I did not kill him after all," said Goddard, turning himself a little as +though to be more at his ease. + +"No," answered John. "He is not hurt at all. Can you tell me who you +are?" For his life, he could not help asking the question. It seemed so +easy to find out who the fellow was, now that he could speak +intelligibly. But Goddard's face contracted suddenly, in a hideous smile. + +"Don't you wish you knew?" he said roughly. "But I know you, my boy, I +know you--ha! ha! There's no getting away from you, my boy, is there?" + +"Who am I?" asked John in astonishment. + +"You are the hangman," said Goddard. "I know you very well. The hangman +is always so well dressed. I say, old chap, turn us off quick, you +know--no fumbling about the bolt. Look here--I like your face," he +lowered his voice--"there are nearly sixty pounds in my right-hand +trouser pocket--there are--Mary--ah--gave--M--a--" + +Again his eyes fixed themselves and the moaning began and continued. John +was horror-struck and stood for a moment gazing at his face, over which +the deep flush had spread once more, seeming to obliterate all appearance +of intelligence. Then the young man put his hand beneath Goddard's head +and gently replaced him in his former position, smoothing the pillows, +and giving him a little brandy. He debated whether or not he should call +the squire from his rest to tell him what had happened, but seeing that +Goddard had now returned to his former state, he supposed such moments of +clear speech were to be expected from time to time. He sat down again, +and waited; then after a time he went to the window and looked anxiously +for the dawn. It seemed an intolerably long night. + +But the day came at last and shed a ghastly grey tinge upon the +sick-room, revealing as it were the outlines of all that was bad to look +at, which the warm yellow candle-light had softened with a kindlier +touch. John accidentally looked at himself in the mirror as he passed and +was startled at his own pale face; but the convict, labouring in the +ravings of his fever, seemed unconscious of the dawning day; he was not +yet exhausted and his harsh voice never ceased its jarring gibber. John +wondered whether he should ever spend such a night again, and shuddered +at the recollection of each moment. + +The daylight waked the squire from his slumbers, however, and before the +sun was up he came out of the dressing-room, looking almost as fresh as +though nothing had happened to him in the night. Accustomed for years to +rise at all hours, in all weathers, unimpressionable, calm and strong, he +seemed superior to the course of events. + +"Well, Mr. Short, you allowed me a long nap. You must be quite worn out, +I should think. How is the patient?" + +John told what had occurred. + +"Took you for the hangman, did he?" said the squire. "I wonder why--but +you say he asked after me very sensibly?" + +"Quite so. It was when I asked him his own name, that he began raving +again," answered John innocently. + +"What made you ask him that?" asked Mr. Juxon, who did not seem pleased. + +"Curiosity," was John's laconic answer. + +"Yes--but I fancy it frightened him. If I were you I would not do it +again, if he has a lucid moment. I imagine it was fright that made him +delirious in the first instance." + +"All right," quoth John. "I won't." But he made his own deductions. The +squire evidently knew who he was, and did not want John to know, for some +unexplained reason. The young man wondered what the reason could be; the +mere name of the wretched man was not likely to convey any idea to his +mind, for it was highly improbable that he had ever met him before his +conviction. So John departed to his own room and refreshed himself with +a tub, while the squire kept watch by daylight. + +It was not yet eight o'clock when Holmes brought a note from the vicar, +which Mr. Juxon tore open and read with anxious interest. + +"MY DEAR MR. JUXON--I received your note late last night, but I judged it +better to answer this morning, not wishing to excite suspicion by sending +to you at so late an hour. The intelligence is indeed alarming and you +will, I daresay, understand me, when I tell you that I found it necessary +to communicate it to Mrs. Ambrose--" + +The squire could not refrain from smiling at the vicar's way of putting +the point; but he read quickly on. + +"She however--and I confess my surprise and gratification--desires to +accompany me to the Hall this morning, volunteering to take all possible +care of the unfortunate man. As she has had much experience in visiting +the sick, I fancy that she will render us very valuable assistance in +saving his life. Pray let me know if the plan has your approval, as it +may be dangerous to lose time.--Yours sincerely, + +"AUGUSTIN AMBROSE." + +Mr. Juxon was delighted to find that the difficult task of putting Mrs. +Ambrose in possession of the facts of the case had been accomplished in +the ordinary, the very ordinary, course of events by her own +determination to find out what was to be known. In an hour she might be +at Goddard's bedside, and Mrs. Goddard would be free to see her husband. +He despatched a note at once and redoubled his attentions to the sick man +whose condition, however, showed no signs of changing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mrs. Ambrose kept her word and arrived with the vicar before nine +o'clock, protesting her determination to take care of poor Goddard, so +long as he needed any care. Mr. Juxon warned her that John did not know +who the man was, and entreated her to be careful of her speech when John +was present. There was no reason why John should ever know anything more +about it, he said; three could keep a secret, but no one knew whether +four could be as discreet. + +The squire took Mrs. Ambrose and her husband to Goddard's room and +telling her that Doctor Longstreet was expected in an hour, by which time +he himself hoped to have returned, he left the two good people in charge +of the sick man and went to see Mrs. Goddard. He sent John a message to +the effect that all was well and that he should take some rest while the +Ambroses relieved the watch, and having thus disposed his household he +went out, bound upon one of the most disagreeable errands he had ever +undertaken. But he set his teeth and walked boldly down the park. + +At the turn of the avenue he paused, at the spot where Goddard had +attacked him. There was nothing to be seen at first, for the road was +hard and dry and there was no trace of the scuffle; but as the squire +looked about he spied his hat, lying in the ditch, and picked it up. It +was heavy with the morning dew and the brim was broken and bent where +Goddard's weapon had struck it. Hard by in a heap of driven oak leaves +lay the weapon itself, which Mr. Juxon examined curiously. It was a +heavy piece of hewn oak, evidently very old, and at one end a thick iron +spike was driven through, the sharp point projecting upon one side and +the wrought head upon the other. He turned it over in his hands and +realised that he had narrowly escaped his death. Then he laid the hat and +the club together and threw a handful of leaves over them, intending to +take them to the Hall at a later hour, and he turned to go upon his way +towards the cottage. But as he turned he saw two men coming towards him, +and now not twenty yards away. His heart sank, for one of the two was +Thomas Gall the village constable; the other was a quiet-looking +individual with grey whiskers, plainly dressed and unassuming in +appearance. Instinctively the squire knew that Gall's companion must be a +detective. He was startled, and taken altogether unawares; but the men +were close upon him and there was nothing to be done but to face them +boldly. + +Gall made his usual half military salute as he came up, and the man in +plain clothes raised his hat politely. + +"The gentleman from Lunnon, sir," said Gall by way of introduction, +assuming an air of mysterious importance. + +"Yes?" said Mr. Juxon interrogatively. "Do you wish to speak to me?" + +"The gentleman's come on business, sir. In point of fact, sir, it's the +case we was speakin' of lately." + +The squire knew very well what was the matter. Indeed, he had wondered +that the detective had not arrived sooner. That did not make it any +easier to receive him, however; on the contrary, if he had come on the +previous day matters would have been much simpler. + +"Very well, Gall," answered Mr. Juxon. "I am much obliged to you for +bringing Mr.--" he paused and looked at the man in plain clothes. + +"Booley, sir," said the detective. + +"Thank you--yes--for bringing Mr. Booley so far. You may go home, Gall. +If we need your services we will send to your house." + +"It struck me, sir," remarked Gall with a bland smile, "as perhaps I +might be of use--prefeshnal in fact, sir." + +"I will send for you," said the detective, shortly. The manners of the +rural constabulary had long ceased to amuse him. + +Gall departed rather reluctantly, but to make up for being left out of +the confidential interview which was to follow, he passed his thumb round +his belt and thrust out his portly chest as he marched down the avenue. +He subsequently spoke very roughly to a little boy who was driving an old +sheep to the butcher's at the other end of the village. + +Mr. Juxon and the detective turned back and walked slowly towards the +Hall. + +"Will you be good enough to state exactly what the business is," said the +squire, well knowing that it was best to go straight to the point. + +"You are Mr. Juxon, I believe?" inquired Mr. Booley looking at his +companion sharply. The squire nodded. "Very good, Mr. Juxon," continued +the official. "I am after a man called Walter Goddard. Do you know +anything about him? His wife, Mrs. Mary Goddard, lives in this village." + +"Walter Goddard is at this moment in my house," said the squire calmly. +"I know all about him. He lay in wait for me at this very spot last night +and attacked me. My dog pulled him down." + +The detective was somewhat surprised at the intelligence, and at the cool +manner in which his companion conveyed it. + +"I am very glad to hear that. In that case I will take him at once." + +"I fear that is impossible," answered the squire. "The man is raving in +the delirium of a brain fever. Meanwhile I shall be glad if you will stay +in the house, until he is well enough to be moved. The doctor will be +here at ten o'clock, and he will give you the details of the case better +than I can. It would be quite impossible to take him away at present." + +"May I ask," inquired Mr. Booley severely, "why you did not inform the +local police?" + +"Because it would have been useless. If he had escaped after attacking +me, I should have done so. But since I caught him, and found him to be +very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him +myself. Mrs. Goddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her +story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do +her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also +acquainted with the circumstances, is at this moment taking care of the +sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the +Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient +guarantee--" + +"Oh, there is no question of guarantee," said Mr. Booley. "I assure you, +Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best. +Can you tell me how long Goddard has been in the neighbourhood?" + +The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate +Mrs. Goddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not +positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else +had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that Goddard +could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the +capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him. + +"That is doubtful," said the squire. "When I left him just now he was +quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a +time might kill him outright." + +"It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man," remarked +Mr. Booley. "Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the +servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. Goddard, too." + +"That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house, +now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps +tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her +very much." + +"Well, well, we will see about it," answered Mr. Booley. They reached the +house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to +wait for his return. + +It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the +position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the +house waiting to carry off Goddard, so soon as he should be well enough +to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The +longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time +unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. Goddard of Booley's arrival. +He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing +her to her husband's bedside. + +He found her waiting for him, and was struck by the calmness she +displayed. To tell the truth the violence of her emotions had been wholly +expended on the previous night and the reaction had brought an intense +melancholy quiet, which almost frightened Mr. Juxon. The habit of bearing +great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well +learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as +though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent +suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account +of what had happened. + +"You are not hurt?" she asked, almost incredulously. Her eyes rested on +her friend's face with a wistful look. + +"No, I assure you, not in the least," he said. "But your poor husband is +very ill--very ill indeed." + +"Tell me," said she quietly, "is he dead? Are you trying to break it to +me?" + +"No--no indeed. He is alive--he may even recover. But that is very +uncertain. It might be best to wait until the doctor has been again. I +will come back and fetch you--" + +"Oh, no, I will go at once. I would like to walk. It will do me good." + +So the two set out without further words upon their errand. Mr. Juxon had +purposely omitted to speak of Mr. Booley's arrival. It would be easy, he +thought, to prevent them from meeting in the great house. + +"Do you know," said Mary Goddard, as they walked together, "it is very +hard to wish that he may recover--" she stopped short. + +"Very hard," answered the squire. "His life must be one of misery, if he +lives." + +"Of course you would send him back?" she asked nervously. + +"My dear friend, there is no other course open to me. Your own safety +requires it." + +"God knows--you would only be doing right," she said and was silent +again. She knew, though the squire did not, what fate awaited Walter +Goddard if he were given up to justice. She knew that he had taken life +and must pay the penalty. Yet she was very calm; her senses were all +dulled and yet her thoughts seemed to be consecutive and rational. She +realised fully that the case of life and death was ill balanced; death +had it which ever course events might take, and she could not save her +husband. She thought of it calmly and calmly hoped that he might die now, +in his bed, with her by his side. It was a better fate. + +"You say that the doctor thinks he must have been ill some time?" she +asked after a time. + +"Yes--he was quite sure of it," answered the squire. + +"Perhaps that was why he spoke so roughly to me," she said in a low +voice, as though speaking to herself. + +The tears came into the squire's eyes for sheer pity. Even in this utmost +extremity the unhappy woman tried to account for her husband's rude and +cruel speech. Mr. Juxon did not answer but looked away. They passed the +spot where the scuffle had occurred on the previous night, but still he +said nothing, fearing to disturb her by making his story seem too vividly +real. + +"Where is he?" she asked as they reached the Hall, looking up at the +windows. + +"On the other side." + +They went in and mounted the stairs towards the sick man's chamber. Mr. +Juxon went in, leaving Mrs. Goddard outside for a moment. She could +hear that hideous rattling monotonous moan, and she trembled from head to +foot. Presently Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose came out, looking very grave and +passed by her with a look of sympathy. + +"Will you come in?" said the squire in a low voice. + +Mrs. Goddard entered the room quickly. On seeing her husband, she uttered +a low cry and laid her hand upon Mr. Juxon's arm. For some seconds she +stood thus, quite motionless, gazing with intense and sympathetic +interest at the sick man's face. Then she went to his side and laid her +hand upon his burning forehead and looked into his eyes. + +"Walter! Walter!" she cried. "Don't you know me? Oh, why does he groan +like that? Is he suffering?" she asked turning to Mr. Juxon. + +"No--I do not think he suffers much. He is quite unconscious. He is +talking all the time but cannot pronounce the words." + +The squire stood at a distance looking on, noting the womanly +thoughtfulness Mrs. Goddard displayed as she smoothed her husband's +pillow and tried to settle his head more comfortably upon the bags of +ice; and all the while she never took her eyes from Goddard's face, as +though she were fascinated by her own sorrow and his suffering. She moved +about the bed with that instinctive understanding of sickness which +belongs to delicate women, but her glance never strayed to Mr. Juxon; she +seemed forced by a mysterious magnetism to look at Walter and only at +him. + +"Has he been long like this?" she asked. + +"Ever since last night. He called you once--he said, 'Mary Goddard, let +me in!' And then he said something else--he said--I cannot remember what +he said." Mr. Juxon checked himself, remembering the words John had +heard, and of which he only half understood the import. But Mrs. Goddard +hardly noticed his reply. + +"Will you leave me alone with him?" she said presently. "There is a bell +in the room--I could ring if anything--happened," she added with mournful +hesitation. + +"Certainly," answered the squire. "Only, I beg of you my dear friend--do +not distress yourself needlessly--" + +"Needlessly!" she repeated with a sorrowful smile. "It is all I can do +for him--to watch by his side. He will not live--he will not live, I am +sure." + +The squire inwardly prayed that she might be right, and left her alone +with the sick man. Who, he thought, was better fitted, who had a stronger +right to be at his bedside at such a time? If only he might die! For if +he lived, how much more terrible would the separation be, when Booley the +detective came to conduct him back to his prison! In truth, it would be +more terrible even than Mr. Juxon imagined. + +Meanwhile he must go and see to the rest of the household. He must speak +to John Short; he must see Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, and he must take +precautions against any of them seeing Mr. Booley. This was, he thought, +very important, and he resolved to speak with the latter first. John was +probably asleep, worn out with the watching of the night. + +Mr. Booley sat in the squire's study where he had been left almost an +hour earlier. He had installed himself in a comfortable corner by the +fire and was reading the morning paper which he had found unopened upon +the table. He seemed thoroughly at home as he sat there, a pair of +glasses upon his nose and his feet stretched out towards the flame upon +the hearth. + +"Thank you, I am doing very well, Mr. Juxon," he said as the squire +entered. + +"Oh--I am very glad," answered Mr. Juxon politely. The information was +wholly voluntary as he had not asked any question concerning the +detective's comfort. + +"And how is the patient?" inquired Mr. Booley. "Do you think there is any +chance of removing him this afternoon?" + +"This afternoon?" repeated the squire, in some astonishment. "The man is +very ill. It may be weeks before he can be removed." + +"Oh!" ejaculated the other. "I was not aware of that. I cannot possibly +stay so long. To-morrow, at the latest, he will have to go." + +"But, my dear sir," argued Mr. Juxon, "the thing is quite impossible. The +doctor can testify to that--" + +"We are apt to be our own doctors in these cases," said Mr. Booley, +calmly. "At all events he can be taken as far as the county gaol." + +"Upon my word, it would be murder to think of it--a man in a brain fever, +in a delirium, to be taken over jolting roads--dear me! It is not to be +thought of!" + +Mr. Booley smiled benignly, for the first time since the squire had made +his acquaintance. + +"You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable," he +observed. + +"Yes--no doubt--but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too." + +"Hardly, I should say," returned the detective coolly. "But since you are +so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you +whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable +experience in that line." + +"You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes," replied the squire, +shocked at the man's indifference and hardness. + +"It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or +raving," objected Mr. Booley. + +"He might have a lucid moment just when you are there--the fright would +very likely kill him." + +"That would decide the question of moving him," answered Booley, taking +his glasses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet. +"There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I +would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it +may be my duty to do so." + +The squire was beginning to be angry; even his calm temper was not proof +against the annoyance caused by Mr. Booley's appearance at the Hall, but +he wisely controlled himself and resorted to other means of persuasion. + +"There is a reason, Mr. Booley; indeed there are several very good +reasons. One of them is that it might be fatal to frighten the man; +another is that at this moment his wife is by his bedside. She has +entirely made up her mind that when he is recovered he must return to +prison, but at present it would be most unkind to let her know that you +are in the house. The shock to her nerves would be terrible." + +"Oh," said Mr. Booley, "if there is a lady in the case we must make some +allowances, I presume. Only, put yourself in my place, Mr. Juxon, put +yourself in my place." + +The squire doubted whether he would be willing to exchange his +personality for that of Mr. Booley. + +"Well--what then?" he said. "I think I would try to be merciful." + +"Yes; but suppose that in being merciful, you just allowed that lady the +time necessary to present her beloved husband with a convenient little +pill, just to shorten his sufferings? And suppose that--" + +"Really, Mr. Booley, I think you make very unwarrantable suppositions," +said Mr. Juxon severely. "I cannot suppose any such thing." + +"Many women--ladies too--have done that to save a man from hanging," +returned Mr. Booley, fixing his grey eye on the squire. + +"Hanging?" repeated the latter in surprise. "But Goddard is not to be +hanged." + +"Of course he is. What did you expect?" Mr. Booley looked surprised in +his turn. + +"But--what for?" asked the squire very anxiously. "He has not killed +anybody--" + +"Oh--then you don't know how he escaped?" + +"No--I have not the least idea--pray tell me." + +"I don't wonder you don't understand me, then," said Mr. Booley. "Well, +it is a short tale but a lively one, as they say. Of course it stands to +reason in the first place that he could not have got out of Portland. He +was taken out for a purpose. You know that after his trial was over, all +sorts of other things besides the forgery came out about him, proving +that he was altogether a very bad lot. Now about three weeks ago there +was a question of identifying a certain person--it was a very long story, +with a bad murder case and all the rest of it--commonplace, you know the +sort--never mind the story, it will all be in the papers before long when +they have got it straight, which is more than I have, seeing that these +affairs do get a little complicated occasionally, you know, as such +things will." Mr. Booley paused. It was evident that his command of the +English tongue was not equal to the strain of constructing a long +sentence. + +"This person, whom he was to identify, was the person murdered?" inquired +Mr. Juxon. + +"Exactly. It was not the person, but the person's body, so to say. +Somebody who had been connected with the Goddard case was sure that if +Goddard could be got out of prison he could do the identifying all +straight. It did not matter about his being under sentence of hard +labour--it was a private case, and the officer only wanted Goddard's +opinion for his personal satisfaction. So he goes to the governor of +Portland, and finds that Goddard had a very good character in that +institution--he was a little bit of a gay deceiver, you see, and knew how +to fetch the chaps in there and particularly the parson. So he had a good +character. Very good. The governor consents to send him to town for this +private job, under a strong force--that means three policemen--with irons +on his hands. When they reached London they put him in a fourwheeler. +Those things are done sometimes, and nobody is the wiser, because the +governor does it on his own responsibility, for the good of the law, I +suppose. I never approved of it. Do you follow me, Mr. Juxon?" + +"Perfectly," answered the squire. "He was driven from the station with +three policemen in a hackney-coach, you say." + +"Exactly so. It was a queer place where the body was--away down in the +Minories. Ever been there, Mr. Juxon? Queer place it is, and no mistake. +I would like to show you some little bits of London. Well, as I was +saying, the fourwheeler went along, with two policemen inside with +Goddard and one on the box. Safe, you would say. Not a bit of it. Just +the beggar's luck, too. It was dusk. That is always darker than when the +lamps are well going. The fourwheeler ran into a dray-cart, round a +corner where they were repairing the street. The horse went down with a +smash, shafts, lamp, everything broken to smithereens, as they say. The +policeman jumps off the box with the cabby to see what is the matter. One +of the bobbies--the policemen I would say--it's a technical term, Mr. +Juxon--gets out of the cab to see what's up, leaving Goddard in charge of +the other. Then there is a terrific row; more carts come up, more +fourwheelers--everybody swearing at once. Presently the policeman who +had got out comes back and looks in to see if everything is straight. Not +a bit of it again. Other door of the cab was open and--no Goddard. But +the policeman was lying back in the corner and when they struck a light +and looked, they found he was stone dead. Goddard had brained him with +the irons on his wrists. No one ever saw him from that day to this. He +must have known London well--they say he did, and he was a noted quick +runner. Being nightfall and rather foggy as it generally is in those +parts he got clear off. But he killed the man who had him in charge and +if he lives he will have to swing for it. May be Mrs. Goddard does not +know that---may be she does. That is the reason I don't want her to be +left alone with him. No doubt she is very good and all that, but she +might just take it into her head to save the government twenty feet of +rope." + +"I am very much surprised, and very much shocked," said the squire +gravely. "I had no idea of this. But I will answer for Mrs. Goddard. +Why was all this never In the papers--or was there an account of it, Mr. +Booley?" + +"Oh no--it was never mentioned. We felt sure that we should catch him and +until we did we--I mean the profession--thought it just as well to say +nothing. The governor remembered to have read a letter from Goddard's +wife, just telling him where she was living, about two years ago. Being +harmless, he passed it and never copied the address; then he could not +remember it. At last they found it in his cell, hidden away somehow. The +beggar had kept it." + +"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. In the silence which followed, the +sound of wheels was heard outside. Doctor Longstreet had arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +While Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were together in the library downstairs, while +John Short was waking from the short sleep he had enjoyed, and while the +squire was listening in the study to Mr. Booley's graphic account of the +convict's escape, Mrs. Goddard was alone with her husband, watching every +movement and listening intently to every moaning breath he drew. + +In the desperate anxiety for his fate, she forgot herself and seemed no +longer to feel fatigue or exhaustion from all she herself had suffered. +She stood long by his bedside, hoping that he might recognise her and yet +fearing the moment when he should recover his senses. Then she noticed +that the morning sun was pouring in through the window and she drew a +curtain across, to shade his eyes from the glare. Whether the sudden +changing of the light affected Goddard, as it does sometimes affect +persons in the delirium of a brain fever, or whether it was only a +natural turn in his condition, she never knew. His expression changed and +acquired that same look of strange intelligence which John Short had +noticed in the night; the flush sank from his forehead and gave place to +a luminous, transparent colour, his eyelids once more moved naturally, +and he looked at his wife as she stood beside him, and recognised her. He +was weaker now than when he had spoken with John Short six hours earlier, +but he was more fully in possession of his faculties for a +brief moment. Mary Goddard trembled and felt her hands turn cold with +excitement. + +"Walter, do you know me now?" she asked very softly. + +"Yes," he said faintly, and closed his eyes. She laid her hand upon his +forehead; the coldness of it seemed pleasant to him, for a slight smile +flickered over his face. + +"You are better, I think," she said again, gazing intently at him. + +"Mary--it is Mary?" he murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking up +to her. "Yes--I know you--I have been dreaming a long time. I'm so +tired--" + +"You must not talk," said she. "It will tire you more." Then she gave him +some drink. "Try and sleep," she said in a soothing tone. + +"I cannot--oh, Mary, I am very ill." + +"But you will get well again--" + +Goddard started suddenly, and laid his hand upon her arm with more force +than she suspected he possessed. + +"Where am I?" he asked, staring about the room. "Is this your house, +Mary? What became of Juxon?" + +"He is not hurt. He brought you home in his arms, Walter, to his own +house, and is taking care of you." + +"Good heavens! He will give me up. No, no, don't hold me--I must be +off" + +He made a sudden effort to rise, but he was very weak. He fell back +exhausted upon his pillow; his fingers gripped the sheet convulsively, +and his face grew paler. + +"Caught--like a rat!" he muttered. Mary Goddard sighed. + +Was she to give him hope of escape? Or should she try to calm him now, +and when he was better, break the truth to him? Was she to make him +believe that he was safe for the present, and hold out a prospect of +escape when he should be better, or should she tell him now, once for +all, while he was in his senses, that he was lost? It was a terrible +position. Love she had none left for him, but there was infinite pity +still in her heart and there would be while he breathed. She hesitated +one moment only, and it may be that she decided for the wrong; but it was +her pity that moved her, and not any remnant of love. + +"Hush, Walter," she said. "You may yet escape, when you are strong +enough. You are quite safe here, for the present. Mr. Juxon would not +think of giving you up now. By and by--the window is not high, Walter, +and I shall often be alone with you. I will manage it." + +"Is that true? Are you cheating me?" cried the wretched man in broken +tones. "No--you are speaking the truth--I know it--God bless you, Mary!" +Again he closed his eyes and drew one or two long deep breaths. + +Strange to say, the blessing the miserable convict called down upon her +was sweet to Mary Goddard, sweeter than anything she remembered for a +long time. She had perhaps done wrong in giving him hopes of escaping, +but at least he was grateful to her. It was more than she expected, for +she remembered her last meeting with him, and the horrible ingratitude +he had then shown her. It seemed to her that his heart had been softened +a little; anything was better than that rough indifference he had +affected before. Presently he spoke again. + +"Not that it makes much difference now, Mary," he said. "I don't think +there is much left of me." + +"Do not say that, Walter," she answered gently. "Rest now. The more you +rest the sooner you will be well again. Try and sleep." + +"Sleep--no--I cannot sleep. I have murdered sleep--like Macbeth, Mary, +like Macbeth--Do you remember Macbeth?" + +"Hush," said Mary Goddard, endeavouring to calm him, though she turned +pale at his strange quotation. "Hush--" + +"That is to say," said the sick man, heedless of her exhortation and +soothing touch, "that is to say, I did not. He was very wide awake, and +if I had not been quick, I should never have got off. Ugh! How damp that +cellar was, that first night. That is where I got my fever. It is fever, +I suppose?" he asked, unable to keep his mind for long in one groove. +"What does the doctor say? Has he been here?" + +"Yes. He said you would soon be well; but he said you must be kept very +quiet. So you must not talk, or I will go away." + +"Oh Mary, don't go--don't go! It's like--ha! ha! it's quite like old +times, Mary!" He laughed harshly, a hideous, half-delirious laugh. + +Mary Goddard shuddered but made a great effort to control herself. + +"Yes," she said gently, "it is like old times. Try and think that it is +the old house at Putney, Walter. Do you hear the sparrows chirping, just +as they used to do? The curtains are the same colour, too. You used to +sleep so quietly at the old house. Try and sleep now. Then you will +soon get well. Now, I will sit beside you, but I will not talk any +more--there--are you quite comfortable? A little higher? Yes--so. Go to +sleep." + +Her quiet voice soothed him, and her gentle hands made his rest more +easy. She sat down beside him, thinking from his silence that he would +really go to sleep; hoping and yet not hoping, revolving in her mind the +chances of his escape, so soon as he should be strong enough to attempt +it, shuddering at the thought of what his fate must be if he again fell +into the hands of the police. She did not know that a detective was at +that moment in the house, determined to carry her husband away so soon as +the doctor pronounced it possible. Nothing indeed, not even that +knowledge could have added much to the burden of her sorrows as she sat +there, a small and graceful figure with a sad pathetic face, leaning +forward as she sat and gazing drearily at the carpet, where the sunlight +crept in beneath the curtains from the bright world without. It seemed to +her that the turning point in her existence had come, and that this day +must decide all; yet she could not see how it was to be decided, think of +it as she might. One thing stood prominent in her thoughts, and she +delighted to think of it--the generosity of Charles Juxon. From first to +last, from the day when she had frankly told him her story and he had +accepted it and refused to let it bring any difference to his friendship +for her, down to this present time, when after being basely attacked by +her own husband, he had nobly brought the wretch home and was caring +for him as for one of his own blood--through all and in spite of all, the +squire had shown the same unassuming but unfailing generosity. She asked +herself, as she sat beside the sick man, whether there were many like +Charles Juxon in the world. There was the vicar, but the case was very +different. He too had been kind and generous from the first; but he had +not asked her to marry him--she blushed at the thought--he had not loved +her. If Charles Juxon loved her, his generosity to Goddard was all the +greater. + +She could not tell whether she loved him, because her ideas were what the +world calls simple, and what, in heaven, would be called good. Her +husband was alive; none the less so because he had been taken away and +separated from her by the law--he was alive, and now was brought face to +face with her again. While he was living, she did not suppose it possible +to love another, for she was very simple. She said to herself truly that +she had a very high esteem for the squire and that he was the best friend +she had in the world; that to lose him would be the most terrible of +imaginable losses; that she was deeply indebted to him, and she even half +unconsciously allowed that if she were free she might marry him. There +was no harm in that, she knew very well. She owed her own husband no +longer either respect or affection, even while she still felt pity for +him. Her esteem at least, she might give to another; nay, she owed it, +and if she had refused Charles Juxon her friendship, she would have +called herself the most ungrateful of women. If ever man deserved +respect, esteem and friendship, it was the squire. + +Even in the present anxiety she thought of him, for his conduct seemed +the only bright spot in the gloom of her thoughts; and she sincerely +rejoiced that he had escaped unhurt. Had any harm come to him, she would +have been, if it were possible, more miserable than she now was. But he +was safe and sound, and doing his best to help her--doing more than she +knew, in fact, at that very moment. There was at least something to be +thankful for. + +Goddard stirred again, and opened his eyes. + +"Mary," he said faintly, "they won't catch me after all." + +"No, Walter," said she, humouring him. "Sleep quietly, for no one will +disturb you." + +"I am going where nobody can catch me. I am dying--" + +"Oh, Walter!" cried Mary Goddard, "you must not speak like that. You will +be better soon. The doctor is expected every moment." + +"He had better make haste," said the sick man with something of the +roughness he had shown at their first meetings. "It is no use, Mary. I +have been thinking about it. I have been mad for--for very long, I am +sure. I want to die, Mary. Nobody can catch me if I die--I shall be safe +then. You will be safe too--that is a great thing." + +His voice had a strange and meditative tone in it, which frightened his +wife, as she stood close beside him. She could not speak, for her +excitement and fear had the mastery of her tongue. + +"I have been thinking about it--I am not good for much, now--Mary--I +never was. It will do some good if I die--just because I shall be out of +the way. It will be the only good thing I ever did for you." + +"Oh Walter," cried his wife in genuine distress, "don't--don't! +Think--you must not die so--think of--of the other world, Walter--you +must not die so!" + +Goddard smiled faintly--scornfully, his wife thought. + +"I daresay I shall not die till to-morrow, or next day--but I will not +live," he said with sudden energy. "Do you understand me, I will not +live! Bah!" he cried, falling back upon his pillow, "the grapes are +sour--I can't live if I would. Oh yes, I know all about that--my sins. +Well, I am sorry for them. I am sorry, Mary. But it is very little +good--people always laugh at--deathbed repentance--" + +He stopped and his thoughts seemed wandering. Mary Goddard gave him +something to drink and tried to calm him. But he moved restlessly, though +feebly. + +"Softly, softly," he murmured again. "He is coming--close to me. Get +ready--now--no not yet, yes--now. Ugh!" yelled Goddard, suddenly +springing up, his eyes starting from his head. "Ugh! the dog--oh!" + +"Hush, Walter," cried his wife, pushing him back. "Hush--no one will hurt +you." + +"What--is that you, Mary?" asked the sick man, trembling violently. Then +he laughed harshly. "I was off again. Pshaw! I did not really mean to +hurt him--he need not have set that beast at me. He did not catch me +though--Mary, I am going to die--will you pray for me? You are a good +woman--somebody will hear your prayers, I daresay. Do, Mary--I shall feel +better somehow, though I daresay it is very foolish of me." + +"No, Walter--not foolish, not foolish. Would you like me to call Mr. +Ambrose? he is a clergyman--he is in the house." + +"No, no. You Mary, you--nobody will hear anybody else's prayers--for +me--for poor me--" + +"Try and pray with me, Walter," said Mary Goddard, very quietly. She +seemed to have an unnatural strength given to her in that hour of +distress and horror. She knelt down by the bedside and took his wounded +hand in hers, tenderly, and she prayed aloud in such words as she could +find. + +Below, in the study, the detective had just finished telling his tale to +the squire, and the wheels of Doctor Longstreet's dog-cart ground upon +the gravel outside. The two men looked at each other for a moment, and +Mr. Juxon spoke first. + +"That is the doctor," said he. "I will ask you to have patience for five +minutes, Mr. Booley. He will give you his opinion. I am still very much +shocked at what you have told me--I had no idea what had happened." + +"No--I suppose not," answered Mr. Booley calmly. "If you will ask the +medical man to step in here for one moment, I will explain matters to +him. I don't think he will differ much from me." + +"Very well," returned the squire, leaving the room. He went to meet +Doctor Longstreet, intending to warn him of the presence of Mr. Booley, +and meaning to entreat his support for the purpose of keeping Goddard in +the house until he should be recovered. He passed through the library and +exchanged a few words with Mr. Ambrose, explaining that the doctor had +come. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were sitting on opposite sides of the +fireplace in huge chairs, with a mournful air of resigned expectation +upon their worthy faces. The detective remained alone in the study. + +Meanwhile John Short had refreshed himself from his fatigues, and came +down stairs in search of some breakfast. He had recovered from his +excitement and was probably the only one who thought of eating, as he was +also the one least closely concerned in what was occurring. Instead of +going to the library he went to the dining-room, and, seeing no one +about, entered the study from the door which on that side connected the +two rooms. To his surprise he saw Mr. Booley standing before the +fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his feet wide apart. He had not +the least idea who he was. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed, staring hard at him. + +"Yes," said Mr. Booley, who took him for the physician whom he expected. +"I am George Booley of the detective service. I was expecting you, sir. +There is very little to be said. My time, as I told Mr. Juxon, is very +valuable. I must have Goddard out of the house by to-morrow afternoon at +the latest. Now, doctor, it is of no use your talking to me about fever +and all that--" + +John had stood with his mouth open, staring in blank astonishment at the +detective, unable to find words in which to question the man. At last he +got his breath. + +"What in the world are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "Are you a +raving lunatic--or what are you?" + +"Come, come, doctor," said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, "none of +that with me, you know. If the man must be moved--why he must, that is +all, and you must make it possible, somehow." + +"You are crazy!" exclaimed John. "I am not the doctor, to begin with--" + +"Not the doctor!" cried Mr. Booley. "Then who are you? I beg your pardon, +I am sure--" + +"I am John Short," said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name +conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective. He cared little, +for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into +the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real +physician. But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he +found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each +other. He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was +relieved to see them--anything was a relief at that moment. + +"Mr. Ambrose," he said hurriedly, "there is a detective in the next room +who means to carry off that poor man at once--as he is--sick--dying +perhaps--it must be prevented!" + +"A detective!" cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath. + +"My dear John," said the vicar immediately afterwards, "where is he? I +will reason with him." + +"Augustin," said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, "it is barbarous. I +will go upstairs. If he enters the room it shall be across my body." + +"Do, my dear," replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely +appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent. + +"Of course I will," said his wife, who had already reached the door. From +which it appears that Mrs. Ambrose was a brave woman. She passed rapidly +up the staircase to Goddard's room, but she paused as she laid her hand +upon the latch. From within she could hear Mary Goddard's voice, praying +aloud, as she had never heard any one pray before. She paused and +listened, hesitating to interrupt the unhappy lady in such a moment. +Moreover, though her goodwill was boundless, she had not any precise +idea how to manage the defence. But as she stood there, the thought that +the detective might at any moment follow her was predominant. The voice +within the room paused for an instant and Mrs. Ambrose entered, raising +one finger to her lips as though expecting that Mary Goddard would speak +to her. But Mary was not looking, and at first did not notice the +intrusion. She knelt by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, her +hands clasped and clasping the sick man's wounded hand. + +Goddard's face was pale but not deathlike, and his breathing seemed +regular and gentle; but his eyes were almost closed and he seemed not +aware that any one had entered. Mrs. Ambrose was struck by his appearance +which was greatly changed since she had left him half an hour earlier, +his face purple and his harsh moaning continuing unceasingly. She said +to herself that he was probably better. There was all the more reason for +warning Mary Goddard of the new danger that awaited him. She shut the +door and locked it and withdrew the key. At the sound Mary looked +up--then rose to her feet with a sad look of reproach, as though not +wishing to be disturbed. But Mrs. Ambrose came quickly to her side, and +glancing once at Goddard, to see whether he was unconscious, she led her +away from the bed. + +"My dear," she said very kindly, but in a voice trembling with +excitement, "I had to come. There are detectives in the house, clamouring +to take him away--but I will protect you--they shall not do it." + +Mary Goddard started and her eyes stared wildly at her friend. But +presently the look of resigned sadness returned, and a faint and mournful +smile flickered on her lips. + +"I think it is all over," she said. "He is still alive--but he will not +live till they come." + +Then she bit her lip tightly, and all the features of her face trembled a +little. The tears would rise spasmodically, though they were only tears +of pity, not of love. Mrs. Ambrose, the severe, the stern, the eternally +vigilant Mrs. Ambrose, sat down by the window; she put her arm about Mary +Goddard's waist and took her upon her knee as though she had been a +little child and laid her head upon her breast, comforting her as best +she could. And their tears flowed down and mingled together, for many +minutes. + +But once more the sick man's voice was heard; both women started to their +feet and went to his side. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" he moaned faintly. + +"It is I--here I am, Walter, dear Walter--I am with you," answered Mary, +raising him and putting her arm about his neck, while Mrs. Ambrose +arranged the pillows behind him. He opened his eyes as though with a +great effort. + +Some one knocked softly at the door. Mrs. Ambrose left the bedside +quickly and put the key in the lock. + +"Who is there?" she asked, before she opened. + +"I--John. Please let me in." + +Mrs. Ambrose opened and John entered, very pale; she locked the door +again after him. He stood still looking with astonishment at Mrs. Goddard +who still propped the sick man in her arms and hardly noticed him. + +"Why--?" he ejaculated and then checked himself, or rather was checked by +Mrs. Ambrose's look. Then he spoke to her in a whisper. + +"There is an awful row going on between the doctor and the detective," he +said hurriedly under his breath. "They are coming upstairs and the vicar +and Mr. Juxon are trying to part them--I don't know what they are not +saying to each other--" + +"Hush," replied Mrs. Ambrose, "do not disturb him--he was conscious again +just now. This may be the crisis--he may recover. The door is locked--try +and prevent anybody--that is, the detective, from coming in. They will +not dare to break open the door in Mr. Juxon's house." + +"But why is Mrs. Goddard here?" asked John unable to control his +curiosity any longer. He did not mean that she should hear, but as she +laid Goddard's head gently upon the pillows, trying to soothe him to rest +again, if rest it were, she looked up and met John's eyes. + +"Because he is my husband," said she very quietly. + +John laid his hand on Mrs. Ambrose's arm in utmost bewilderment and +looked at her as though to ask if it were true. She nodded gravely. +Before John had time to recover himself from the shock of the news, +footsteps were heard outside, and the loud altercation of angry voices. +John Short leaned his shoulder against the door and put his foot against +it below, expecting an attack. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +When Mr. Ambrose undertook to reason with the detective he went directly +towards the study where John said the man was waiting. But Mr. Booley was +beginning to suspect that the doctor was not coming to speak with him as +the squire had promised, and after hesitating for a few moments followed +John into the library, determining to manage matters himself. As he +opened the door he met Mr. Ambrose coming towards him, and at the same +moment Mr. Juxon and Doctor Longstreet entered from the opposite end of +the long room. The cheerful and active physician was talking in a rather +excited tone. + +"My dear sir," said he, "I cannot pretend to say that the man will or +will not recover. I must see him again. Things look quite differently by +daylight, and six or seven hours may make all the change in the world. To +say that he can be moved to-day or even to-morrow, is absurd. I will +stake my reputation as a practitioner--Hulloa!" + +The exclamation was elicited by Mr. Booley, who had pushed past Mr. +Ambrose and stood confronting the doctor with a look which was intended +to express a combination of sarcasm, superior cunning and authority. + +"This is Mr. Booley," explained the squire. "Doctor Longstreet will tell +you what he has been telling me," he added turning to the detective. + +"I must see this man instantly," said the latter somewhat roughly. "I +believe I am being trifled with, and I will not submit to it. No, sir, I +will not be trifled with, I assure you! I must see this man at once. It +is absolutely necessary to identify him." + +"And I say," said Doctor Longstreet with equal firmness, "that I must see +him first, in order to judge whether you can see him or not--" + +"It is for me to judge of that," returned Mr. Booley, with more haste +than logic. + +"After you have seen him, you cannot judge whether you ought to see him +or not," retorted Doctor Longstreet growing red in the face. The +detective attempted to push past him. At this moment John Short hastily +left the room and fled upstairs to warn Mrs. Ambrose of what was +happening. + +"Really," said Mr. Ambrose, making a vain attempt to stop the course of +events, "this is very unwarrantable." + +"Unwarrantable!" cried Mr. Booley. "Unwarrantable, indeed! I have the +warrant in my pocket. Mr. Juxon, sir, I fear I must insist." + +"Permit me," said Mr. Juxon, planting his square and sturdy form between +the door and the detective. "You may certainly insist, but you must begin +by listening to reason." + +Charles Juxon had been accustomed to command others for the greater part +of his life, and though he was generally the most unobtrusive and gentle +of men, when he raised his voice in a tone of authority his words carried +weight. His blue eyes stared hard at Mr. Booley, and there was something +imposing in his square head--even in the unruffled smoothness of his +brown hair. Mr. Booley paused and discontentedly thrust his hands into +his pockets. + +"Well?" he said. + +"Simply this," answered the squire. "You may accompany us to the door of +the room; you may wait with me, while Doctor Longstreet goes in to look +at the patient. If the man is unconscious you may go in and see him. If +he chances to be in a lucid interval, you must wait until he is +unconscious again. It will not be long. That is perfectly reasonable." + +"Perfectly," echoed Mr. Ambrose, biting his long upper lip and glaring as +fiercely at Mr. Booley as though he had said it all himself. + +"Absolutely reasonable," added Doctor Longstreet. + +"Well, we will try it," said the detective moodily. "But I warn you I +will not be trifled with." + +"Nobody is trifling with you," answered the squire coldly. "This way if +you please." And he forthwith led the way upstairs, followed by Mr. +Booley, the physician and the vicar. + +Before they reached the door, however, the discussion broke out again. +Mr. Booley had been held in check for a few moments by Mr. Juxon's +determined manner, but as he followed the squire he began to regret that +he had yielded so far and he made a fresh assertion of his rights. + +"I cannot see why you want to keep me outside," he said. "What difference +can it make, I should like to know?" + +"You will have to take my word for it that it does make a difference," +said the doctor, testily. "If you frighten the man, he will die. Now +then, here we are." + +"I don't like your tone, sir," said Booley angrily, again trying to push +past the physician. "I think I must insist, after all. I will go in with +you--I tell you I will, sir--don't stop me." + +Doctor Longstreet, who was fifteen or twenty years older than the +detective but still strong and active, gripped his arm quickly, and held +him back. + +"If you go into that room without my permission, and if the man dies of +fright, I will have an action brought against you for manslaughter," he +said in a loud voice. + +"And I will support it," said the squire. "I am justice of the peace +here, and what is more, I am in my own house. Do not think your position +will protect you." + +Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew +back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the +door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word +of the altercation had been heard within. + +"Who is there?" asked John, who though he had heard all that had been +said was uncertain of the issue. + +"Let in Doctor Longstreet," said the squire's voice. + +But meanwhile Mrs. Ambrose and Mary Goddard were standing on each side of +the sick man. He must have heard the noises outside, and they conveyed +some impression to his brain. + +"Mary, Mary!" he groaned indistinctly. "Save me--they are coming--I +cannot get away--softly, he is coming--now--I shall just catch him as he +goes by--Ugh! that dog--oh! oh!--" + +With a wild shriek, the wretched man sprang up, upon his knees, his eyes +starting out, his face transfigured with horror. For one instant he +remained thus, half-supported by the two terror-struck women; then with a +groan his head drooped forward upon his breast and he fell back heavily +upon the pillows, breathing still but quite unconscious. + +Doctor Longstreet entered at that moment and ran to his side. But when he +saw him he paused. Even Mrs. Ambrose was white with horror, and Mary +Goddard stood motionless, staring down at her husband, her hands gripping +the disordered coverlet convulsively. + +Mr. Juxon had entered, too, while Mr. Ambrose remained outside with the +detective, who had been frightened into submission by the physician's +last threat. The squire saw what was happening and paced the room in the +greatest agitation, wringing his hands together and biting his lips. John +had closed the door and came to the foot of the bed and looked at +Goddard's face. After a pause, Doctor Longstreet spoke. + +"We might possibly restore him to consciousness for a moment--" + +"Don't!" cried Mary Goddard, starting as though some one had struck her. +"That is--" she added quickly, in broken tones, "unless he can live!" + +"No," answered the physician, gravely, but looking hard at the unhappy +woman. "He is dying." + +Goddard's staring eyes were glazed and white. Twice and three times he +gasped for breath, and then lay quite still. It was all over. Mary gazed +at his dead face for one instant, then a faint smile parted her lips: she +raised one hand to her forehead as though dazed. + +"He is safe now," she murmured very faintly. Her limbs relaxed suddenly, +and she fell straight backwards. Charles Juxon, who was watching her, +sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Then he bore her from the +room, swiftly, while John Short who was as white and speechless as the +rest opened the door. + +"You may go in now," said Juxon as he passed Booley and Mr. Ambrose in +the passage, with his burden in his arms. A few steps farther on he met +Holmes the butler, who carried a telegram on a salver. + +"For Mr. Short, sir," said the impassive servant, not appearing to notice +anything strange in the fact that his master was carrying the inanimate +body of Mary Goddard. + +"He is in there--go in," said Juxon hurriedly as he went on his way. + +The detective and the vicar had already entered the room where the dead +convict was lying. All stood around the bed, gazing at his pale face as +he lay. + +"A telegram for Mr. Short," said Holmes from the door. John started and +took the despatch from the butler's hands. He hastily tore it open, +glanced at the contents and thrust it into his pocket. Every one looked +round. + +"What is it, John?" whispered the vicar, who was nearest to him. + +"Oh--nothing. I am first in the Tripos, that is all," answered John very +simply, as though it were not a matter of the least consequence. + +Through all those months of untiring labour, through privation and +anxiety, through days of weariness and nights of study, he had looked +forward to the triumph, often doubting but never despairing. But he had +little guessed that the news of victory would reach him at such a moment. +It was nothing, he said; and indeed as he stood with the group of pale +and awe-struck spectators by the dead man's bed, he felt that the +greatest thing which had ever happened to him was as nothing compared +with the tragedy of which he had witnessed the last act. + +It was all over. There was nothing more to be said; the convict had +escaped the law in the end, at the very moment when the hand of the law +was upon him. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, buried him "four by +six by two," grumbling at the parish depth as of yore, and a simple stone +cross marked his nameless grave. There it stands to this day in the +churchyard of Billingsfield, Essex, in the shadow of the ancient abbey. + +All these things happened a long time ago, according to Billingsfield +reckoning, but the story of the tramp who attacked Squire Juxon and was +pulled down by the bloodhound is still told by the villagers, and Mr. +Gall, being once in good cheer, vaguely hinted that he knew who the tramp +was; but from the singular reticence he has always shown in the matter, +and from the prosperity which has attended his constabulary career, it +may well be believed that he has a life interest in keeping his counsel. +Indeed as it is nearly ten years since Mr. Reid buried the poor tramp, it +is possible that Mr. Gall's memory may be already failing in regard to +events which occurred at so remote a date. + +It was but an incident, though it was perhaps the only incident of any +interest which ever occurred in Billingsfield; but until it reached its +termination it agitated the lives of the quiet people at the vicarage, +at the cottage and at the Hall as violently as human nature can be moved. +It was long, too, before those who had witnessed the scene of Goddard's +death could shake off the impression of those awful last moments. Yet +time does all things wonderful and in the course of not many months there +remained of Goddard's memory only a great sense of relief that he was no +longer alive. Mary Goddard, indeed, was very ill for a long time; and but +for Mrs. Ambrose's tender care of her, might have followed her husband +within a few weeks of his death. But the good lady never left her, until +she was herself again--absolutely herself, saving that as time passed and +her deep wounds healed her sorrows were forgotten, and she seemed to +bloom out into a second youth. + +So it came to pass that within two years Charles Juxon once more asked +her to be his wife. She hesitated long--fully half an hour, the squire +thought; but in the end she put out her small hand and laid it in his, +and thanked God that a man so generous and true, and whom she so honestly +loved, was to be her husband as well as her friend and protector. Charles +James Juxon smoothed his hair with his other hand, and his blue eyes were +a little moistened. + +"God bless you, Mary," he said; and that was all. + +Then the Reverend Augustin Ambrose married them in the church of Saint +Mary's, between Christmas and New Year's Day; and the wedding-party +consisted of Mrs. Ambrose and Eleanor Goddard and John Short, Fellow of +Trinity College, Cambridge. And again years passed by, and Nellie grew in +beauty as John grew in reputation; and Nellie had both brothers and +sisters, as she had longed to have, and to her, their father was as her +own; so that there was much harmony and peace and goodwill towards men +in Billingsfield Hall. John came often and stayed long, and was ever +welcome; for though Mary Goddard's youth returned with the daffodils and +the roses of the first spring after Walter's death, John's fleeting +passion returned not, and perhaps its place was better taken. Year by +year, as he came to refresh himself from hard work with a breath of the +country air, he saw the little girl grow to the young maiden of sixteen, +and he saw her beauty ripen again to the fulness of womanhood; and at +last, when she was one and twenty years of age he in his turn put out his +hand and asked her to take him--which she did, for better or worse, but +to all appearances for better. For John Short had prospered mightily in +the world, and had come to think his first great success as very small +and insignificant as compared with what he had done since. But his old +simplicity was in him yet, and was the cause of much of his prosperity, +as it generally is when it is found together with plenty of brains. It +was doubtless because he was so very simple that when he found that he +loved Eleanor Goddard he did not hesitate to ask the convict's daughter +to be his wife. His interview with Mr. Juxon was characteristic. + +"You know what you are doing, John?" asked the squire. He always called +him John, now. + +"Perfectly," replied the scholar, "I am doing precisely what my betters +have done before me with such admirable result." + +"Betters?" + +"You. You knew about it all and you married her mother. I know all about +it, and I wish to marry herself." + +"You know that she never heard the story?" + +"Yes. She never shall." + +"No, John--she never must. Well, all good go with you." + +So Charles Juxon gave his consent. And Mary Juxon consented too; but for +the first time in many years the tears rose again to her eyes, and she +laid her hand on John's arm, as they walked together in the park. + +"Oh, John," she said, "do you think it is right--for you yourself?" + +"Of course I think so," quoth John stoutly. + +"You John--with your reputation, your success, with the whole world at +your feet--you ought not to marry the daughter of--of such a man." + +"My dear Mrs. Juxon," said John Short, "is she not your daughter as well +as his? Pray, pray do not mention that objection. I assure you I have +thought it all over. There is really nothing more to be said, which I +have not said to myself. Dear Mrs. Juxon--do say Yes!" + +"You are very generous, John, as well as great," she answered looking up +to his face. "Well--I have nothing to say. You must do as you think best. +I am sure you will be kind to Nellie, for I have known you for ten +years--you may tell her I am very glad--" she stopped, her eyes brimming +over with tears. + +"Do you remember how angry I was once, when you told me to go and talk to +Nellie?" said John. "It was just here, too--" + +Mary Juxon laughed happily and brushed the tears from her eyes. So it was +all settled. + +Once more the Reverend Augustin Ambrose united two loving hearts before +the altar of Saint Mary's. He was well stricken in years, and his hair +and beard were very white. Mrs. Ambrose also grew more imposing with each +succeeding season, but her face was softer than of old, and her voice +more gentle. For the sorrow and suffering of a few days had drawn +together the hearts of all those good people with strong bands, and a +deep affection had sprung up between them all. The good old lady felt as +though Mary Juxon were her daughter--Mary Juxon, by whom she had stood in +the moment of direst trial and terror, whom she had tended in illness and +cheered in recovery. And the younger woman's heart had gone out towards +her, feeling how good a thing it is to find a friend in need, and +learning to value in her happiness the wealth of human kindness she had +found in her adversity. + +They are like one family, now, having a common past, a common present, +and a common future, and there is no dissension among them. Honest and +loyal men and women may meet day after day, and join hands and exchange +greetings, without becoming firm friends, for the very reason that they +have no need of each other. But if the storm of a great sorrow breaks +among them and they call out to each other for help, and bear the brunt +of the weather hand in hand, the seed of a deeper affection is brought +into their midst; and when the tempest is past the sweet flower of +friendship springs up in the moistened furrows of their lives. + +So those good people in the lonely parish of Billingsfield gathered round +Mary Goddard, as they called her then, and round poor little Nellie, and +did their best to protect the mother and the child from harm and +undeserved suffering; and afterwards, when it was all over, and there was +nothing more to be feared in the future, they looked into each other's +faces and felt that they were become as brothers and sisters, and that so +long as they should live--may it be long indeed!--there was a bond +between them which could never be broken. So it was that Mrs. Ambrose's +face softened and her voice was less severe than it had been. + +Mary Juxon is the happiest of women; happy in her husband, in her +eldest daughter, in John Short and in the little children with bright +faces and ringing voices who nestle at her knee or climb over the sturdy +sailor-squire, and pull his great beard and make him laugh. They will +never know, any more than Nellie knew, all that their mother suffered; +and as she looks upon them and strokes their long fair hair and listens +to their laughter, she says to herself that it was perhaps almost worth +while to have been dragged down towards the depths of shame for the sake +of at last enjoying such pride and glory of happy motherhood. + + +THE END. + + + + +THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. MARION CRAWFORD + + I. Mr. Isaacs + II. Doctor Claudius + III. To Leeward + IV. A Roman Singer + V. An American Politician + VI. Marzio's Crucifix Zoroaster + VII. A Tale of a Lonely Parish + VIII. Paul Patoff + IX. Love in Idleness: A Tale of Bar Harbor Marion Darche + X. Saracinesca + XI. Sant' Ilario + XII. Don Orsino + XIII. Corleone: A Sicilian Story + XIV. With the Immortals + XV. Greifenstein + XVI. A Cigarette-Maker's Romance Khaled + XVII. The Witch of Prague + XVIII. The Three Fates + XIX. Taquisara + XX. The Children of the King + XXI. Pietro Ghisleri + XXII. Katharine Lauderdale + XXIII. The Ralstons + XXIV. Casa Braccio (Part I) + XXV. Casa Braccio (Part II) + XXVI. Adam Johnstone's Son A Rose of Yesterday + XXVII. Via Crucia + XXVIII. In the Palace of the King + XXIX. Marietta: A Maid of Venice + XXX. Cecilia: A Story of Modern Rome + XXXI. The Heart of Rome + XXXII. Whosoever Shall Offend + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13597 *** 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..10bcec2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #13597 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13597) diff --git a/old/13597-8.txt b/old/13597-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f41e62f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13597-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11568 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Tale of a Lonely Parish, by F. Marion +Crawford + + +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: A Tale of a Lonely Parish + +Author: F. Marion Crawford + +Release Date: October 4, 2004 [eBook #13597] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH + +by + +F. MARION CRAWFORD + +1886 + + + + + + + +TO My MOTHER + +I DEDICATE THIS TALE A MEAN TOKEN OF A LIFELONG AFFECTION + +SORRENTO, Christmas Day, 1885 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The Reverend Augustin Ambrose would gladly have given up taking pupils. +He was growing old and his sight was beginning to trouble him; he was +very weary of Thucydides, of Homer, of the works of Mr. Todhunter of +which the green bindings expressed a hope still unrealised, of conic +sections--even of his beloved Horace. He was tired of the stupidities of +the dull young men who were sent to him because they could not "keep up", +and he had long ceased to be surprised or interested by the remarks of +the clever ones who were sent to him because their education had not +prepared them for an English University. The dull ones could never be +made to understand anything, though Mr. Ambrose generally succeeded in +making them remember enough to matriculate, by dint of ceaseless +repetition and a system of _memoria technica_ which embraced most things +necessary to the salvation of dull youth. The clever ones, on the other +hand, generally lacked altogether the solid foundation of learning; they +could construe fluently but did not know a long syllable from a short +one; they had vague notions of elemental algebra and no notion at all of +arithmetic, but did very well in conic sections; they knew nothing of +prosody, but dabbled perpetually in English blank verse; altogether they +knew most of those things which they need not have known and they knew +none of those things thoroughly which they ought to have known. After +twenty years of experience Mr. Ambrose ascertained that it was easier to +teach a stupid boy than a clever one, but that he would prefer not to +teach at all. + +Unfortunately the small tithes of a small country parish in Essex did not +furnish a sufficient income for his needs. He had been a Fellow of +Trinity College, Cambridge, within a few years of taking his degree, +wherein he had obtained high honours. But he had married and had found +himself obliged to accept the first living offered to him, to wit, the +vicarage of Billingsfield, whereof his college held the rectory and +received the great tithes. The entire income he obtained from his cure +never at any time exceeded three hundred and forty-seven pounds, and in +the year when it reached that high figure there had been an unusually +large number of marriages. It was not surprising that the vicar should +desire to improve his circumstances by receiving one or two pupils. He +had married young, as has been said, and there had been children born to +him, a son and a daughter. Mrs. Ambrose was a good manager and a good +mother, and her husband had worked hard. Between them they had brought up +their children exceedingly well. The son had in his turn entered the +church, had exhibited a faculty of pushing his way which had not +characterised his father, had got a curacy in a fashionable Yorkshire +watering-place, and was thought to be on the way to obtain a first-rate +living. In the course of time, too, the daughter had lost her heart to a +young physician who had brilliant prospects and some personal fortune, +and the Reverend Augustin Ambrose had given his consent to the union. Nor +had he been disappointed. The young physician had risen rapidly in his +profession, had been elected a member of the London College, had +transferred himself to the capital and now enjoyed a rising practice in +Chelsea. So great was his success that it was thought he would before +long purchase the goodwill of an old practitioner who dwelt in the +neighbourhood of Brompton Crescent, and who, it was said, might shortly +be expected to retire. + +It will be seen, therefore, that if Mr. Ambrose's life had not been very +brilliant, his efforts had on the whole been attended with success. His +children were both happy and independent and no longer needed his +assistance or support; his wife, the excellent Mrs. Ambrose, enjoyed +unfailing health and good spirits; he himself was still vigorous and +active, and as yet found no difficulty in obtaining a couple of pupils at +two hundred pounds a year each, for he had early got a reputation for +successfully preparing young gentlemen with whom no other private tutor +could do anything, and he had established the scale of his prices +accordingly. It is true that he had sacrificed other things for the sake +of imparting tuition, and more than once he had hesitated and asked +himself whether he should go on. Indeed, when he graduated, it was +thought that he would soon make himself remarkable by the publication of +some scholarly work; it was foretold that he might become a famous +preacher; it was asserted that he was a general favourite with the +Fellows of Trinity and would get a proportionately fat living--but he had +committed the unpardonable sin of allowing his chances of fortune to slip +from him. He had given up his fellowship, had married and had accepted an +insignificant country living. He asked nothing, and he got nothing. He +never attracted the notice of his bishop by doing anything extraordinary, +nor the notice of the public by appearing in print. He baptized, married +and buried the people of Billingsfield, Essex, and he took private +pupils. He wrote a sermon once a fortnight, and revised old ones for the +other three occasions out of four. His sermons were good in their way, +but were intended for simple folk and did no justice to the powers he had +certainly possessed in his youth. Indeed, as years went on, the dry +routine of his life produced its inevitable effect upon his mind, and the +productions of Mr. Ambrose grew to be exceedingly commonplace; and the +more commonplace he became, the more he regretted having done so little +with the faculties he enjoyed, and the more weary he became of the daily +task of galvanising the dull minds of his pupils into a spasmodic +activity, just sufficient to leap the ditch that separates the schoolboy +from the undergraduate. He had not only educated his children and seen +them provided for in the world; he had also saved a little money, and he +had insured his life for five hundred pounds. There was no longer any +positive necessity for continuing to teach, as there had been thirty +years ago, when he first married. + +So much for the circumstances of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose. +Personally he was a man of good presence, five feet ten inches in height, +active and strong, of a ruddy complexion with smooth, thick grey hair and +a plentiful grey beard. He shaved his upper lip however, greatly to the +detriment of his appearance, for the said upper lip was very long and the +absence of the hirsute appendage showed a very large mouth with very thin +lips, generally compressed into an expression of remarkable obstinacy. +His nose was both broad and long and his grey eyes were bright and +aggressive in their glance. As a matter of fact Mr. Ambrose was combative +by nature, but his fighting instincts seem to have been generally +employed in the protection of rights he already possessed, rather than in +pushing on in search of fresh fields of activity. He was an active man, +fond of walking alone and able to walk any distance he pleased; a +charitable man with the charity peculiar to people of exceedingly +economical tendencies and possessing small fixed incomes. He would give +himself vast personal trouble to assist distress, as though aware that +since he could not give much money to the poor he was bound to give the +best of himself. The good Mrs. Ambrose seconded him in this as in all his +works; labouring hard when hard work could do any good, but giving +material assistance with a sparing hand. It sufficiently defines the two +to say that although many a surly labourer in the parish grumbled that +the vicar and his wife were "oncommon near", when money was concerned, +there was nevertheless no trouble in which their aid was not invoked and +their advice asked. But the indigent labourer not uncommonly retrieved +his position by asking a shilling of one of the young gentlemen at the +vicarage, who were generally open-handed, good-looking boys, blessed with +a great deal more money than brains. + +At the time when this tale opens, however, it chanced that one of the two +young gentlemen at the vicarage was by no means in the position peculiar +to the majority of youths who sought the good offices of the Reverend +Augustin Ambrose. John Short, aged eighteen, was in all respects a +remarkable contrast to his companion the Honourable Cornelius Angleside. +John Short was apparently very poor; the Honourable Cornelius on the +other hand had plenty of money. Short was undeniably clever; Angleside +was uncommonly dull. Short was the son of a decayed literary man; +Angleside was the son of a nobleman. Short was by nature a hard worker; +Angleside was amazingly idle. Short meant to do something in the world; +Angleside had early determined to do nothing. + +It would not be easy to define the reasons which induced Mr. Ambrose to +receive John Short under his roof. He had never before taken a pupil on +any but his usual terms, and at his time of life it was strange that he +should break through the rule. But here his peculiar views of charity +came into play. Short's father had been his own chum at school, and his +friend at college, but had failed to reap any substantial benefits from +his education. He had been a scholar in his way, but his way had not been +the way of other scholars, and when he had gone up for honours he had got +a bad third in classics. He would not enter the church, he could not +enter the law, he had no interest whatever, and he found himself +naturally thrust into the profession of literature. For a time he had +nearly starved; then he had met with some success and had, of course, +married without hesitation; after this he had had more misfortunes. His +wife had died leaving him an only son, whom in course of time he had sent +to school. But school was too expensive and he had reluctantly taken the +boy home again. It was in a fit of despair that he wrote to his old +friend Augustin Ambrose, asking his advice. The Reverend Augustin +considered the matter with the assistance of his wife, and being +charitable souls, they determined that they must help Short to educate +his son. Accordingly the vicar of Billingsfield wrote to his old friend +to say that if he could manage to pay a small sum for the lad's board, +he, the vicar, would complete the boy's education, so that he might at +least have a chance in the world. Short accepted the offer with boundless +gratitude and had hitherto not failed to pay the vicar the small sum +agreed upon. The result of all this was that Mr. Ambrose had grown very +fond of John, and John had derived great advantage from his position. He +possessed precisely what his father had lacked, namely a strong bent in +one direction, and there was no doubt that he would distinguish himself +if he had a chance. That chance the vicar had determined to give him. He +had made up his mind that his old friend's son should go to college and +show what he was able to do. It was not an easy thing to manage, but the +vicar had friends in Cambridge and John had brains; moreover the vicar +and John were both very obstinate people and had both determined upon the +same plan, so that there was a strong probability of their succeeding. + +John Short was eighteen years of age, neither particularly good-looking +nor by any means the reverse. He had what bankers commonly call a lucky +face; that is to say he had a certain very prepossessing look of honesty +in his blue eyes, and a certain look of energetic goodwill in his +features. When he was much older and wore a beard he passed for a +handsome man, but at eighteen he could only boast the smallest of fair +whiskers, and when anybody took the trouble to look long at him, which +was not often, the verdict was that his jaw was too heavy and his mouth +too obstinate. In complexion he was fair, and healthy to look at, +generally sunburned in the summer, for he had a habit of reading out of +doors; his laugh was very pleasant, though it was rarely heard; his eyes +were honest but generally thoughtful; his frame was sturdy and already +inclined rather to strength than to graceful proportion; his head matched +his body well, being broad and well-shaped with plenty of prominence over +the brows and plenty of fulness above the temples. He had a way of +standing as though it would not be easy to move him, and a way of +expressing his opinion which seemed to challenge contradiction. But he +was not a combative boy. If any one argued with him, it soon appeared +that he was not really argumentative, but merely enthusiastic. It was not +necessary to agree with him, and there was small use in contradicting +him. The more he talked the more enthusiastic he grew as he developed his +own views; until seeing that he was not understood or that he was merely +laughed at, he would end his discourse with a merry laugh at himself, or +a shy apology for having talked so much. But the vicar assured his wife +that the boy's Greek and Latin verses were something very extraordinary +indeed, and much better than his own in his best days. For John was +passionately fond of the classics and did not propose to acquire any more +mathematical knowledge than was strictly necessary for his matriculation +and "little-go." He meant to be a famous scholar and he meant to get a +fellowship at his college in order to be perfectly independent and to +help his father. + +John was a constant source of wonder to his companion the Honourable +Cornelius Angleside, who remembered to have seen fellows of that sort at +Eton but had never got near enough to them to know what they were really +like. Cornelius had a vague idea that there was some trick about +appearing to know so much and that those reading chaps were awful +humbugs. How the trick was performed he did not venture to explain, but +he was as firmly persuaded that it was managed by some species of +conjuring as that Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook performed their wonders by +sleight of hand. That one human brain should actually contain the amount +of knowledge John Short appeared to possess was not credible to the +Honourable Cornelius, and the latter spent more of his time in trying to +discover how John "did it" than in trying to "do it" himself. +Nevertheless, young Angleside liked Short after his own fashion, and +Short did not dislike Angleside. John's father had given him to +understand that as a general rule persons of wealth and good birth were a +set of overbearing, purse-proud bullies, who considered men of genius to +be little better than a set of learned monkeys, certainly not good enough +to black their boots. For John's father in his misfortunes had imbibed +sundry radical notions formerly peculiar to poor literary men, and not +yet altogether extinct, and he had accordingly warned his son that all +mammon was the mammon of unrighteousness, and that the people who +possessed it were the natural enemies of people who had to live by their +brains. But John had very soon discovered that though Cornelius Angleside +possessed the three qualifications for perdition, in the shape of birth, +wealth and ignorance, against which his poor father railed unceasingly, +he succeeded nevertheless in making himself very good company. Angleside +was not overbearing, he was not purse-proud and he was not a bully. On +the contrary he was unobtrusive and sufficiently simple in manner, and he +certainly never mentioned the subject of his family or fortune; John +rather pitied him, on the whole, until he began to discover that +Angleside looked up to him on account of his mental superiority, and then +John, being very human, began to like him. + +The life at the vicarage of Billingsfield, Essex, was not remarkable for +anything but its extreme regularity. Prayers, breakfast, work, lunch, a +walk, work, dinner, work, prayers, bed. The programme never varied, save +as the seasons introduced some change in the hours of the establishment. +The vicar, who was fond of a little gardening and amused himself with a +variety of experiments in the laying of asparagus beds, found occasional +excitement in the pursuit of a stray cat which had managed to climb his +wire netting and get at the heads of his favourite vegetable, in which +thrilling chase he was usually aided by an old brown retriever answering, +when he answered at all, to the name of Carlo, and by the Honourable +Cornelius, whose skill in throwing stones was as phenomenal as his +ignorance of Latin quantities. The play was invariably opened by old +Reynolds, the ancient and bow-legged gardener, groom and man of all work +at the vicarage. + +"Please sir, there's Simon Gunn's cat in the sparrergrass." The +information was accompanied by a sort of chuckle of evil satisfaction +which at once roused the sleeping passions of the Reverend Augustin +Ambrose. + +"Dear me, Reynolds, then why don't you turn her out?" and without waiting +for an answer, the excellent vicar would spring from his seat and rush +down the lawn in the direction of the beds, closely followed by the +Honourable Cornelius, who picked up stones from the gravel path as he +ran, and whose long legs made short work of the iron fence at the bottom +of the garden. Meanwhile the aged Reynolds let Carlo loose from the yard +and the hunt was prosecuted with great boldness and ingenuity. The +vicar's object was to get the cat out of the asparagus bed as soon as +possible without hurting her, for he was a humane man and would not have +hurt a fly. Cornelius, on the other hand, desired the game to last as +long as possible, and endeavoured to prevent the cat's escape by always +hitting the wire netting at the precise spot where she was trying to get +over it. In this way he would often succeed in getting as much as half an +hour's respite from Horace. At last the vicar, panting with his exertions +and bathed in perspiration, would protest against the form of assault. + +"Really, Angleside", he would say, "I believe I could throw straighter +myself. I'm quite sure Carlo can get her out if you leave him alone". + +Whereupon Cornelius would put his hands in his pockets and look on, and +in a few minutes, when the cat had been driven out and the vicar's back +was turned, he would slip a sixpence into old Reynold's hand, and follow +his tutor reluctantly back to the study. Whether there was any connection +between the cat and the sixpence is uncertain, but during the last months +of Angleside's stay at the vicarage the ingenuity of Simon Gunn's yellow +cat in getting over the wire netting reached such a pitch that the vicar +began to prepare a letter to the Bishop Stortford _Chronicle_ on the +relations generally existing between cats and asparagus beds. + +Another event in the life of the vicarage was the periodical lameness of +the vicar's strawberry mare, followed by the invariable discovery that +George Horsnell the village blacksmith had run a nail into her foot when +he shoed her last. Invariably, also, the vicar threatened that in future +the mare should be shod by Hawkins the rival blacksmith, who was a +dissenter and had consequently never been employed by the vicarage. +Moreover it was generally rumoured once every year that old Nat Barker, +the octogenarian cripple who had not been able to stand upon his feet for +twenty years, was at the point of death. He invariably recovered, +however, in time to put in an appearance by proxy at the distribution of +a certain dole of a loaf and a shilling on boxing day. It was told also +that in remote times the Puckeridge hounds had once come that way and +that the fox had got into the churchyard. A repetition of this stirring +event was anxiously looked for during many years, every time that the +said pack met within ten miles of Billingsfield, but hitherto it had been +looked for in vain. On the whole the life at the vicarage was not +eventful, and the studies of the two young men who imbibed learning at +the feet of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose were rarely interrupted. + +Mrs. Ambrose herself represented the feminine element in the society of +the little place. The new doctor was a strange man, suspected of being a +free-thinker, and he was not married. The Hall, for there was a Hall at +Billingsfield, was uninhabited, and had been uninhabited for years. The +estate which belonged to it was unimportant and moreover was in Chancery +and seemed likely to stay there, for reasons no one ever mentioned at +Billingsfield, because no one knew anything about them. From time to time +a legal looking personage drove up to the Duke's Head, which was kept by +Mr. Abraham Boosey, who was also undertaker to the parish, and which was +thought to be a very good inn. The legal personage stayed a day or two, +spending most of his time at the Hall and in driving about to the +scattered farms which represented the estate, but he never came to the +vicarage, nor did the vicar ever seem to know what he was doing nor why +he came. "He came on business"--that was all that anybody knew. His +business was to collect rents, of course; but what he did with them, no +one was bold enough to surmise. The estate was in Chancery, it was said, +and the definition conveyed about as much to the mind of the average +inhabitant of Billingsfield, as if he had been informed that the moon was +in perigee or the sun in Scorpio. The practical result of its being in +Chancery was that no one lived there. + +John Short liked Mrs. Ambrose and the Honourable Cornelius behaved to her +with well bred affability. She always said Cornelius had very nice +manners, as indeed he had and had need to have. Occasionally, perhaps +four or five times in the year, the Reverend Edward Pewlay, who had what +he called a tenor voice, and his wife, who played the pianoforte very +fairly, came over to assist at a Penny Reading. He lived "over Harlow +way," as the natives expressed it; he was what was called in those parts +a rabid Anglican, because he preached in his surplice and had services on +the Saints' days, and the vicar of Billingsfield did not sympathise in +his views. Nevertheless he was very useful at Penny Readings, and on one +of these occasions produced a very ingenious ghost for the delectation of +the rustics, by means of a piece of plate glass and a couple of lamps. + +There had indeed been festivities at the vicarage to which as many as +three clergymen's wives had been invited, but these were rare indeed. For +months at a time Mrs. Ambrose reigned in undisputed possession of the +woman's social rights in Billingsfield. She was an excellent person in +every way. She had once been handsome and even now she was fine-looking, +of goodly stature, if also of goodly weight; rosy, even rubicund, in +complexion, and rotund of feature; looking at you rather severely out of +her large grey eyes, but able to smile very cheerfully and to show an +uncommonly good set of teeth; twisting her thick grey hair into a small +knot at the back of her head and then covering it with a neatly made cap +which she considered becoming to her time of life; dressed always with +extreme simplicity and neatness, glorying in her good sense and in her +stout shoes; speaking of things which she called "neat" with a devotional +admiration and expressing the extremest height of her disapprobation when +she said anything was "very untidy." A motherly woman, a practical woman, +a good housekeeper and a good wife, careful of small things because +generally only small things came in her way, devotedly attached to her +husband, whom she regarded with perfect justice as the best man of her +acquaintance, adding, however, with somewhat precipitous rashness that he +was the best man in the world. She took also a great interest in his +pupils and busied herself mightily with their welfare. Since the arrival +of the new doctor who was suspected of free-thinking, she had shown a +strong leaning towards homoeopathy, and prescribed small pellets of +belladonna for the Honourable Cornelius's cold and infinitesimal drops of +aconite for John Short's headaches, until she observed that John never +had a headache unless he had worked too much, and Angleside always had a +cold when he did not want to work at all. Especially in the department of +the commissariat she showed great activity, and the reputation the vicar +had acquired for feeding his pupils well had perhaps more to do with his +success than he imagined. She was never tired of repeating that +Englishmen needed plenty of good food, and she had no principles which +she did not practise. She even thought it right to lecture young +Angleside upon his idleness at stated intervals. He always replied with +great gentleness that he was awfully stupid, you know, and Mr. Ambrose +was awfully good about it and he hoped he should not be pulled when he +went up. And strange to relate he actually passed his examination and +matriculated, to his own immense astonishment and to the no small honour +and glory of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, vicar of Billingsfield, +Essex. But when that great day arrived certain events occurred which are +worthy to be chronicled and remembered. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +In the warm June weather young Angleside went up to pass his examination +for entrance at Trinity. There is nothing particularly interesting or +worthy of note in that simple process, though at that time the custom of +imposing an examination had only been recently imported from Oxford. For +one whole day forty or fifty young fellows from all parts of the country +sat at the long dining-tables in the beautiful old hall and wrote as +busily as they could, answering the printed questions before them, and +eyeing each other curiously from time to time. The weather was warm and +sultry, the trees were all in full leaf and Cambridge was deserted. Only +a few hard-reading men, who stayed up during the Long, wandered out with +books at the backs of the colleges or strayed slowly through the empty +courts, objects of considerable interest to the youths who had come up +for the entrance examination--chiefly pale men in rather shabby clothes +with old gowns and battered caps, and a general appearance of being the +worse for wear. + +Angleside had been in Cambridge before and consequently lost no time in +returning to Billingsfield when the examination was over. Short was to +spend the summer at the vicarage, reading hard until the term began, when +he was to go up and compete for a minor scholarship; Angleside was to +wait until he heard whether he had passed, and was then going abroad to +meet his father and to rest from the extreme exertion of mastering the +"Apology" and the first books of the "Memorabilia." John drove over to +meet the Honourable Cornelius, who was in a terrible state of anxiety and +left him no peace on the way asking him again and again to repeat the +answers to the questions which had been proposed, reckoning up the ones +he had answered wrong and the ones he thought he might have answered +right, and coming each time to a different conclusion, finally lighting a +huge brierwood pipe and swearing "that it was a beastly shame to subject +human beings to such awful torture." John calmed him by saying he fancied +Cornelius had "got through"; for John's words were a species of gospel to +Cornelius. By the time they reached the vicarage Angleside felt sanguine +of his success. + +The vicar was not visible. It was a strange and unheard of thing--there +were visitors in the drawing-room. This doubtless accounted for the fact +that the fly from the Duke's Head was standing on the opposite side of +the road. The two young men went into their study, which was on the +ground floor and opened upon the passage which led to the drawing-room +from the little hall. Angleside remarked that by leaving the door open +they would catch a glimpse of the visitor when he went out. But the +visitor stayed long. The curiosity of the two was wrought up to a high +pitch; it was many months since there had been a real visitor at the +vicarage. Angleside suggested going out and finding old Reynolds--he +always knew everything that was going on. + +"If we only wait long enough," said Short philosophically, "they are sure +to come out." + +"Perhaps," returned Cornelius rather doubtfully. + +"They" did come out. The drawing-room door opened and there was a sound +of voices. It was a woman's voice, and a particularly sweet voice, too. +Still no one came down the passage. The lady seemed to be lingering in +taking her leave. Then there was a sound of small feet and suddenly a +little girl stood before the open door of the study, looking wonderingly +at the two young men. Short thought he had never seen such a beautiful +child. She could not have been more than seven or eight years old, and +was not tall for her age; a delicate little figure, all in black, with +long brown curls upon her shoulders, flowing abundantly from beneath a +round black sailor's hat that was set far back upon her head. The child's +face was rather pale than very fair, of a beautiful transparent paleness, +with the least tinge of colour in the cheeks; her great violet eyes gazed +wonderingly into the study, and her lips parted in childlike uncertainty, +while her little gloved hand rested on the door-post as though to get a +sense of security from something so solid. + +It was only for a moment. Both the young fellows smiled at the child +unconsciously. Perhaps she thought they were laughing at her; she turned +and ran away again; then passed a second time, stealing a long glance at +the two strangers, but followed immediately by the lady, who was probably +her mother, and whose voice had been heard for the last few moments. The +lady, too, glanced in as she went by, and John Short lost his heart then +and there; not that the lady was beautiful as the little girl was, but +because there was something in her face, in her figure, in her whole +carriage, that moved the boy suddenly as she looked at him and sent the +blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead. + +She seemed young, but he never thought of her age. In reality she was +nine-and-twenty years old but looked younger. She was pale, far paler +than the little girl, but she had those same violet eyes, large, deep and +sorrowful, beneath dark, smooth eyebrows that arched high and rose a +little in the middle. Her mouth was perhaps large for her face but her +full lips curved gently and seemed able to smile, though she was not +smiling. Her nose was perhaps too small--her face was far from +faultless--and it had the slightest tendency to turn up instead of down, +but it was so delicately modelled that an artist would have pardoned it +that deviation from the classic. Thick brown hair waved across her white +forehead and was hidden under the black bonnet and the veil thrown back +over it. She was dressed in black and the close-fitting gown showed off +with unconscious vanity the lines of a perfectly moulded and perfectly +supple figure. But it was especially her eyes which attracted John's +sudden attention at that first glance, her violet eyes, tender, sad, +almost pathetic, seeming to ask sympathy and marvellously able to command +it. + +It was but for a moment that she paused. Then came the vicar, following +her from the drawing-room, and all three went on. Presently Short heard +the front door open and Mr. Ambrose shouted to the fly. + +"Muggins! Muggins!" + +No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican, had +christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the least +of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain Charles +Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and Muggins he +remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for the afternoon was +hot and he had anticipated his "fours." + +Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where +the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse +the driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed +close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the +blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt +very foolish. + +"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the +summer's sun. + +"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping +Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel. +Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only the +young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not mind +being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and brought the +fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting. + +"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she +came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then it +was the turn of the little girl. + +"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand. + +"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who +was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding out +her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than ever +as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl blushed +and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the carriage. + +"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door. + +"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered the +lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her voice. +She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful. Muggins +cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and his pupil +standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house. + +"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose, rather +anxiously. + +Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would say +something about the lady, but to his annoyance, he said nothing at all. +John could not ask questions, seeing it was none of his business and was +fain to content himself with thinking of the lady's face and voice. He +felt very uncomfortable at dinner. He thought the excellent Mrs. Ambrose +eyed him with unusual severity, as though suspecting what he was thinking +about, and he thought the vicar's grey eye twinkled occasionally with the +pleasant sense of possessing a secret he had no intention of imparting. +As a matter of fact Mrs. Ambrose was supremely unconscious of the fact +that John had seen the lady, and looked at him with some curiosity, +observing that he seemed nervous and blushed from time to time and was +more silent than usual. She came to the conclusion that he had been +working too hard, as usual, and that night requested him to take two +little pellets of aconite, and to repeat the dose in the morning. Whether +it was the result of the homoeopathic medicine or of the lapse of a few +hours and a good night's rest, it is impossible to say; John, however, +was himself again the next morning and showed no further signs of +nervousness. But he kept his eyes and ears open, hoping for some news of +the exquisite creature who had made so profound an impression on his +heart. + +In due time the joyful news arrived from Cambridge that the Honourable +Cornelius had passed his examination and was at liberty to matriculate at +the beginning of the term. The intelligence was duly telegraphed to his +father, and in a few hours came a despatch in answer, full of +affectionate congratulation and requesting that Cornelius should proceed +at once to Paris, where his father was waiting for him. The young man +took an affectionate leave of the vicar, of Mrs. Ambrose and especially +of John Short, for whom he had conceived an almost superstitious +admiration; old Reynolds was not forgotten in the farewell, and for +several days after Angleside's departure the aged gardener was observed +to walk somewhat unsteadily and to wear a peculiarly thoughtful +expression; while the vicar observed with annoyance that Strawberry, the +old mare, was less carefully groomed than usual. Strangely coincident +with these phenomena was the fact that Simon Gunn's yellow cat seemed to +have entirely repented of her evil practices, renouncing from the day +when Cornelius left for Paris her periodical invasion of the asparagus +beds at the foot of the garden. But the vicar was too practical a man to +waste time in speculating upon the occult relations of seemingly +disconnected facts. He applied himself with diligence to the work of +preparing John Short to compete for the minor scholarship. The labour was +congenial. He had never taken a pupil so far before, and it was a genuine +delight to him to bring his own real powers into play at last. As the +summer wore on, he predicted all manner of success for John Short, and +his predictions were destined before long to be realised, for John did +all he promised to do and more also. To have succeeded in pushing the +Honourable Cornelius through his entrance examination was a triumph +indeed, but an uninteresting one at best, and one which had no further +consequences. But to be the means of turning out the senior classic of +the University was an honour which would not only greatly increase the +good vicar's reputation but would be to him a source of the keenest +satisfaction during the remainder of his life; moreover the prospects +which would be immediately opened to John in case he obtained such a +brilliant success would be a very material benefit to his unlucky father, +whose talents yielded him but a precarious livelihood and whose pitiable +condition had induced his old schoolfellow to undertake the education of +his son. + +Much depended upon John's obtaining one or more scholarships during his +career at college. To a man of inferior talents the vicar would have +suggested that it would be wiser to go to a smaller college than Trinity +where he would have less competition to expect; but as soon as he +realised John's powers, he made up his mind that it would be precisely +where competition was hottest that his pupil would have the greatest +success. He would get something--perhaps his father would make a little +more money--the vicar even dreamed of lending John a small sum--something +would turn up; at all events he must go to the largest college and do +everything in the best possible way. Meanwhile he must work as hard as he +could during the few months remaining before the beginning of his first +term. + +Whether the lady ever wrote to Mr. Ambrose, John could not ascertain; she +was never mentioned at the vicarage, and it seemed as though the mystery +were never to be solved. But the impression she had made upon the young +man's mind remained and even gained strength by the working of his +imagination; for he thought of her night and day, treasuring up every +memory of her that he could recall, building romances in his mind, +conceiving the most ingenious reasons for the solitary visit she had made +to the vicarage, and inwardly vowing that if ever he should be at liberty +to follow his own inclinations he would go out into the world and search +for her. He was only eighteen then, and of a strongly susceptible +temperament. He had seen nothing of the world, for even when living in +London, in a dingy lodging, with his father, he had been perpetually +occupied with books, reading much and seeing little. Then he had been at +school, but he had seen the dark side of school life--the side which boys +who are known to be very poor generally see; and more than ever he had +resorted to study for comfort and relief from outward ills. Then at last +he had been transferred to a serener state in the vicarage of +Billingsfield and had grown up rapidly from a schoolboy to a young man; +but, as has been said, the feminine element at the vicarage was solely +represented by Mrs. Ambrose and the monotony of her maternal society was +varied only by the occasional visits of the mild young Mrs. Edward +Pewlay. John Short had indeed a powerful and aspiring imagination, but it +would have been impossible even by straining that faculty to its utmost +activity to think in the same breath of romance and of Mrs. Ambrose, for +even in her youth Mrs. Ambrose had not been precisely a romantic +character. John's fancy was not stimulated by his surroundings, but it +fed upon itself and grew fast enough to acquire an influence over +everything he did. It was not surprising that, when at last chance threw +in his way a being who seemed instantly to realise and fulfil his wildest +dreams of beauty and feminine fascination, he should have yielded without +a struggle to the delicious influence, feeling that henceforth his ideal +had taken shape and substance, and had thereby become more than ever the +ideal in which he delighted. + +He gave her names, a dozen of them every day, christening her after every +heroine in fiction and history of whom he had ever read. But no name +seemed to suit her well enough; whereupon he wrote a Greek ode and a +Latin epistle to the fair unknown, but omitted to show them to the +Reverend Augustin Ambrose, though he was quite certain that they were the +best he had ever produced. Then he began to write a novel, but suddenly +recollected that a famous author had written one entitled "No Name," and +as that was the only title he could possibly give to the work he +contemplated he of course had no choice but to abandon the work itself. +He wrote more verses, and he dreamed more dreams, and he meanwhile +acquired much learning and in process of time realised that he had but a +few days longer to stay at Billingsfield. The Michaelmas term was about +to open and he must bid farewell to the hospitable roof and the learned +conversation of the good vicar. But when those last days came he realised +that he was leaving the scene of his only dream, and his heart grew sad. + +Indeed he loved the old red brick vicarage with its low porch, overgrown +with creepers, its fragrant old flower garden, surrounding it on three +sides, its gabled roof, its south wall whereon the vicar constantly +attempted to train fig trees, maintaining that the climate of England had +grown warmer and that he would prove it--John loved it all, and +especially he loved the little study, lined with the books grown familiar +to him, and the study door, the door through which he had seen that +lovely face which he firmly believed was to inspire him to do great +things and to influence his whole life for ever after. He would leave the +door open and place himself just where he had sat that day, and then he +would look suddenly up with beating heart, almost fancying he could again +see those violet eyes gazing at him from the dusky passage--blushing then +to himself, like any girl, and burying himself in his book till the fancy +was grown too strong and he looked up again. He had attempted to sketch +her face on a bit of paper; but he had no skill and he thrust the drawing +into the paper basket, horrified at having made anything so hideous in +the effort to represent anything so beautiful, and returned to making +odes upon her, and Latin epistles, in which he succeeded much better. + +And now the time had come when he must leave all this dreaming, or at +least the scene of it, and go to college and win scholarships and renown. +It was hard to go and he showed his regret so plainly that Mrs. Ambrose +was touched at what she took for his affection for the place and for +herself and for the vicar. John Short was indeed very grateful to her for +all the kindness she had shown him, and to Mr. Ambrose for the learning +he had acquired; for John was a fine fellow and never forgot an +obligation nor undervalued one. But when we are very young our hearts are +far more easily touched to joy and sadness by the chords and discords of +our own dreaming, than by the material doings of the world around us, or +by the strong and benevolent interest our elders are good enough to take +in us. We feel grateful to those same elders if we have any good in us, +but we are far from feeling a similar interest in them. We see in our +imaginations wonderful pictures, and we hear wonderful words, for +everything we dream of partakes of an unknown perfection and completely +throws into the shade the inartistic commonplaces of daily life. As John +Short grew older, he often regretted the society of his old tutor and in +the frequent absence of important buttons from his raiment he bitterly +realised that there was no longer a motherly Mrs. Ambrose to inspect his +linen; but when he took leave of them what hurt him most was to turn his +back upon the beloved old study, upon the very door through which he had +once, and only once, beheld the ideal of his first love dream. + +Though the vicar was glad to see the boy started upon what he already +regarded as a career of certain victory, he was sorry to lose him, not +knowing when he should see him again. John intended to read through all +the vacations until he got his degree. He might indeed have come down for +a day or two at Christmas, but with his very slender resources even so +short a pleasure trip was not to be thought of lightly. It was therefore +to be a long separation, so long to look forward to that when John saw +the shabby little box which contained, all his worldly goods put up into +the back of the vicar's dogcart, and stood at last in the hall, saying +good-bye, he felt as though he was being thrust out into the world never +to return again; his heart seemed to rise in his throat, the tears stood +in his eyes and he could hardly speak a word. Even then he thought of +that day when he had waked up the sleepy Muggins to take away the +beautiful unknown lady. He felt he must be quick about his leave-taking, +or he would break down. + +"You have been very good to me. I--I shall never forget it," he murmured +as he shook hands with Mrs. Ambrose. "And you, too, sir--" he added +turning to the vicar. But the old clergyman cut him short, being himself +rather uncertain about the throat. + +"Good-bye, my lad. God bless you. We shall hear of you soon--showing them +what you can do with your Alcaics--Good-bye." + +So John got into the dogcart and was driven off by the ancient +Reynolds--past the "Duke's Head," past the "Feathers," past the +churchyard and the croft--the "croat," they called it in +Billingsfield--and on by the windmill on the heath, a hideous bit of +grassless common euphemistically so named, and so out to the high-road +towards the railway station, feeling very miserable indeed. It is a +curious fact, too, in the history of his psychology that in proportion as +he got farther from the vicarage he thought more and more of his old +tutor and less and less of his unfinished dream, and he realised +painfully that the vicar was nearly the only friend he had in the world. +He would of course find Cornelius Angleside at Cambridge, but he +suspected that Cornelius, turned loose among a merry band of +undergraduates of his own position would be a very different person from +the idle youth he had known at Billingsfield, trembling in the intervals +of his idleness at the awful prospect of the entrance examination, and +frantically attempting to master some bit of stray knowledge which might +possibly be useful to him. Cornelius would hunt, would gamble, would go +to the races and would give wines at college; John was to be a reading +man who must avoid such things as he would avoid the devil himself, not +only because he was too wretchedly poor to have any share whatever in the +amusements of Cornelius and his set, but because every minute was +important, every hour meant not only learning but meant, most +emphatically, money. He thought of his poor father, grinding out the life +of a literary hack in a wretched London lodging, dining Heaven knew where +and generally supping not at all, saving every penny to help his son's +education, hard working, honest, lacking no virtue except the virtue of +all virtues--success. Then he thought how he himself had been favoured by +fortune during these last years, living under the vicar's roof, treated +with the same consideration as the high-born young gentlemen who had been +his companions, living well, sleeping well and getting the best education +in England for nothing or next to nothing, while that same father of his +had never ceased to slave day and night with his pen, honestly doing his +best and yet enjoying none of the good things of life. John thought of +all this and set his teeth boldly to face the world. A few months, he +thought, and he might have earned a scholarship--he might be independent. +Then a little longer--less than three years--and he might, nay, he would, +take high honours in the university and come back crowned with glory, +with the prospect of a fellowship, with every profession open to him, +with the world at his feet and with money in his hand to help his father +out of all his troubles. + +That was how John Short went to Trinity. It was a hard struggle at first, +for he found himself much poorer than he had imagined, and it seemed as +though the ends could not possibly meet. There was no question of denying +himself luxuries; that would have been easy enough. In those first months +it was the necessities that he lacked, the coals for his little grate, +the oil for his one small lamp. But he fought bravely through it, having, +like many another young fellow who has weathered the storms of poverty in +pursuit of learning, an iron constitution, and an even stronger will. He +used to say long afterwards that feeling cold was a mere habit and that +when one thoroughly understood the construction of Greek verses, some +stimulus of physical discomfort was necessary to make the imagination +work well; in support of which assertion he said that he had never done +such good things by the comfortable fire in the study at Billingsfield +vicarage as he did afterwards on winter nights by the light of a tallow +candle, high up in Neville's Court. Moreover, if any one argued that it +was better for an extremely poor man not to go to Trinity, but to some +much smaller college, he answered that as far as he himself was concerned +he could not have done better, which was quite true and therefore +perfectly unanswerable. Where the competition was less, he would have +been satisfied with less, he said; where it was greatest a man could only +be contented when he had reached the highest point possible. But before +he attained his end he suffered more than any one knew, especially during +those first months. For when he had got his first scholarship, he +insisted upon sending back the little sums of hard-earned money his +father sent him from time to time, and he consequently had nearly as hard +work as before to keep himself warm and to keep oil in his lamp during +the long winter's evenings. But he succeeded, nevertheless. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +In the month of October of that year, a short time after John had taken +up his abode in Trinity College, an event occurred which shook +Billingsfield to its foundations; no less an event than the occupation of +the dwelling known as the "cottage." What the cottage was will appear +hereafter. The arrival of the new tenants occurred in the following +manner. + +The Reverend Augustin Ambrose received a letter, which he immediately +showed to his wife, as he showed most of his correspondence; for he was +of the disposition which may be termed wife-consulting. Married men are +generally of two kinds; those who tell their wives everything and those +who tell them nothing. It is evident that the relative merits of the two +systems depend chiefly upon the relative merits of the wives in question. +Mr. Ambrose had no doubt of the advantages of his own method and he +carried it to its furthest expression, for he never did anything whatever +without consulting his better half. On the whole the plan worked well, +for the vicar had learning and his wife had common sense. He therefore +showed the letter to her and she read it, and read it again, and finally +put it away, writing across the envelope in her own large, clear hand the +words--Goddard, Cottage--indicative of the contents. + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR SIR--It is now nearly five months since I saw you last. Need I +tell you that the sense of your kindness is still fresh in my memory? You +do not know, indeed you cannot know, what an impression your goodness +made upon me. You showed me that I was acting rightly. It has been so +hard to act rightly. Of course you quite understand what I mean. I cannot +refer to the great sorrow which has overtaken me and my dear innocent +little Nellie. There is no use in referring to it, for I have told you +all. You allowed me to unburden my heart to you during my brief visit, +and ever since that day I have felt very much, I may say infinitely, +relieved. + +"I am again about to ask you a favour; I trust indeed that I am not +asking too much, but I know by experience how kind you are and so I am +not afraid to ask this too. Do you remember speaking to me of the little +cottage? The picture you drew of it quite charmed me, and I have +determined to take it, that is, if it is still to be let and if it is not +asking quite too much of you. I mean, if you will take it for me. You +cannot think how grateful I shall be and I enclose a cheque. I am almost +sure you said thirty-six pounds. It was thirty-six, was it not? The +reason I venture to enclose the money is because you are so very kind, +but of course you do not know anything certain about me. But I am sure +you will understand. You said you were sure I could live with my little +girl in Billingsfield for three hundred a year. I find I have a little +more, in fact nearly five hundred. If you tell me that I can have the +cottage, I will come down at once, for town is very dreary and we have +been here all summer except a week at Margate. Let me thank you again, +you have been so very kind, and believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely +yours, + +"MARY GODDARD." + + * * * * * + +"Augustin, my dear, this is very exciting," said Mrs. Ambrose, as she +handed the cheque to her husband for inspection and returned the +letter to its envelope, preparatory to marking it for future reference; +and when, as has been said, she had written upon the outside the +words--Goddard, Cottage, and had put it away she turned upon her husband +with an inquiring manner peculiar to her. Mr. Ambrose was standing before +the window, looking out at the rain and occasionally glancing at the +cheque he still held in his hand. + +"Just like a woman to send a cheque to 'bearer' through the post," he +remarked, severely. "However since I have got it, it is all right." + +"I don't think it is all right, Augustin," said his wife. "We are taking +a great responsibility in bringing her into the parish. I am quite sure +she is a dissenter or a Romanist or something dreadful, to begin with." + +"My dear," answered the vicar, mildly, "you make very uncharitable +suppositions. It seems to me that the most one can say of her is that she +is very unhappy and that she does not write very good English." + +"Oh, I have no doubt she is very unhappy. But as you say we must not be +uncharitable. I suppose you will have to write about the cottage." + +"I suppose so," said Mr. Ambrose doubtfully. "I cannot send her back the +money, and the cottage is certainly to let." + +He deposited the cheque in the drawer of his writing-table and began to +walk up and down the room, glancing up from time to time at his wife who +was lifting one after another the ornaments which stood upon the +chimney-piece, in order to ascertain whether Susan had dusted underneath +them. She had many ways of assuring herself that people did their work +properly. + +"No," said she, "you cannot send her back the money. But it is a very +solemn responsibility. I hope we are doing quite right." + +"I certainly would not hesitate to return the cheque, my dear, if I +thought any harm would come of Mrs. Goddard's living here. But I don't +think there is any reason to doubt her story." + +"Of course not. It was in the _Standard_, so there is no doubt about it. +I only hope no one else reads the papers here." + +"They read them in the kitchen," added Mrs. Ambrose presently, "and they +probably take a paper at the Duke's Head. Mr. Boosey is rather a literary +character." + +"Nobody will suppose it was that Goddard, my dear," said the vicar in a +reassuring tone of voice. + +"No--you had better write about the cottage." + +"I will," said the vicar; and he forthwith did. And moreover, with his +usual willingness to give himself trouble for other people, he took a +vast deal of pains to see that the cottage was really habitable. It +turned out to be in very good condition. It was a pretty place enough, +standing ten yards back from the road, beyond the village, just opposite +the gates of the park; a little square house of red brick with a high +pointed roof and a little garden. The walls were overgrown with creepers +which had once been trained with considerable care, but which during the +last two years had thriven in untrimmed luxuriance and now covered the +whole of the side of the house which faced the road. So thickly did they +grow that it was with difficulty that the windows could at first be +opened. The vicar sighed as he entered the darkened rooms. His daughter +had lived in the cottage when she first married the young doctor who had +now gone to London, and the vicar had been, and was, very fond of his +daughter. He had almost despaired of ever seeing her again in +Billingsfield; the only glimpses of her he could obtain were got by going +himself to town, for the doctor was so busy that he always put off the +projected visit to the country and his wife was so fond of him that she +refused to go alone. The vicar sighed as he forced open the windows upon +the lower floor and let the light into the bare and empty rooms which had +once been so bright and full of happiness. He wondered what sort of +person Mrs. Goddard would turn out to be upon nearer acquaintance, and +made vague, unconscious conjectures about her furniture as he stumbled +up the dark stairs to the upper story. + +He was not left long in doubt. The arrangements were easily concluded, +for the cottage belonged to the estate in Chancery and the lawyer in +charge was very busy with other matters. The guarantee afforded by the +vicar's personal application, together with the payment of a year's rent +in advance so far facilitated matters that four days after she had +written to Mr. Ambrose the latter informed Mrs. Goddard that she was at +liberty to take possession. The vicar suggested that the Billingsfield +carrier, who drove his cart to London once a week, could bring her +furniture down in two trips and save her a considerable expense; Mrs. +Goddard accepted this advice and in the course of a fortnight was +installed with all her goods in the cottage. Having completed her +arrangements at last, she came to call upon the vicar's wife. + +Mrs. Goddard had not changed since she had first visited Billingsfield, +five months earlier, though little Eleanor had grown taller and was if +possible prettier than ever. Something of the character of the lady in +black may have been gathered from the style of her letter to Mr. Ambrose; +that communication had impressed the vicar's wife unfavourably and had +drawn from her husband a somewhat compassionate remark about the bad +English it contained. Nevertheless when Mrs. Goddard came to live in +Billingsfield the Ambroses soon discovered that she was a very +well-educated woman, that she appeared to have read much and to have read +intelligently, and that she was on the whole decidedly interesting. It +was long, however, before Mrs. Ambrose entirely conquered a certain +antipathy she felt for her, and which she explained after her own +fashion. Mrs. Goddard was not a dissenter and she was not a Romanist; on +the contrary she appeared to be a very good churchwoman. She paid her +bills regularly and never gave anybody any trouble. She visited the +vicarage at stated intervals, and the vicarage graciously returned her +visits. The vicar himself even went to the cottage more often than Mrs. +Ambrose thought strictly necessary, for the vicar was strongly prejudiced +in her favour. But Mrs. Ambrose did not share that prejudice. Mrs. +Goddard, she said, was too effusive, talked too much about herself and +her troubles, did not look thoroughly straightforward, probably had +foreign blood. Ay, there was the rub--Mrs. Ambrose suspected that Mrs. +Goddard was not quite English. If she was not, why did she not say so, +and be done with it? + +Mrs. Goddard was English, nevertheless, and would have been very much +surprised could she have guessed the secret cause of the slight coldness +she sometimes observed in the manner of the clergyman's wife towards her. +She herself, poor thing, believed it was because she was in trouble, and +considering the nature of the disaster which had befallen her, she was +not surprised. She was rather a weak woman, rather timid, and if she +talked a little too much sometimes it was because she felt embarrassed; +there were times, too, when she was very silent and sad. She had been +very happy and the great catastrophe had overtaken her suddenly, leaving +her absolutely without friends. She wanted to be hidden from the world, +and by one of those strange contrasts often found in weak people she had +suddenly made a very bold resolution and had successfully carried it out. +She had come straight to a man she had never seen, but whom she knew very +well by reputation, and had told him her story and asked him to help her; +and she had not come in vain. The person who advised her to go to the +Reverend Augustin Ambrose knew that there was not a better man to whom +she could apply. She had found what she wanted, a sort of deserted +village where she would never be obliged to meet any one, since there was +absolutely no society; she had found a good man upon whom she felt she +could rely in case of further difficulty; and she had not come upon false +pretences, for she had told her whole story quite frankly. For a woman +who was naturally timid she had done a thing requiring considerable +courage, and she was astonished at her own boldness after she had done +it. But in her peaceful retreat, she reflected that she could not +possibly have left England, as many women in her position would have +done, simply because the idea of exile was intolerable to her; she +reflected also that if she had settled in any place where there was any +sort of society her story would one day have become known, and that if +she had spent years in studying her situation she could not have done +better than in going boldly to the vicar of Billingsfield and explaining +her sad position to him. She had found a haven of rest after many months +of terrible anxiety and she hoped that she might end her days in peace +and in the spot she had chosen. But she was very young--not thirty years +of age yet--and her little girl would soon grow up--and then? Evidently +her dream of peace was likely to be of limited duration; but she resigned +herself to the unpleasant possibilities of the future with a good grace, +in consideration of the advantages she enjoyed in the present. + +Mrs. Ambrose was at home when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor came to the +vicarage. Indeed Mrs. Ambrose was rarely out in the afternoon, unless +something very unusual called her away. She received her visitor with the +stern hospitality she exercised towards strangers. The strangers she saw +were generally the near relations of the young gentlemen whom her husband +received for educational purposes. She stood in the front drawing-room, +that is to say, in the most impressive chamber of that fortress which is +an Englishman's house. It was a formal room, arranged by a fixed rule and +the order of it was maintained inflexibly; no event could be imagined of +such terrible power as to have caused the displacement of one of those +chairs, of one of those ornaments upon the chimney-piece, of one of those +engravings upon the walls. The walls were papered with one shade of +green, the furniture was covered with material of another shade of green +and the well-spared carpet exhibited still a third variety of the same +colour. Mrs. Ambrose's sense of order did not extend to the simplest +forms of artistic harmony, but when it had an opportunity of impressing +itself upon inanimate objects which were liable to be moved, washed or +dusted, its effects were formidable indeed. She worshipped neatness and +cleanliness; she left the question of taste to others. And now she stood +in the keep of her stronghold, the impersonation of moral rectitude and +of practical housekeeping. + +Mrs. Goddard entered rather timidly, followed by little Eleanor whose +ideas had been so much disturbed by the recent change in her existence, +that she had grown unusually silent and her great violet eyes were +unceasingly opened wide to take in the growing wonders of her situation. +Mrs. Goddard was still dressed in black, as when John Short had seen her +five months earlier. There was something a little peculiar in her +mourning, though Mrs. Ambrose would have found it hard to define the +peculiarity. Some people would have said that if she was really a widow +her gown fitted a little too well, her bonnet was a little too small, her +veil a little too short. Mrs. Ambrose supposed that those points were +suggested by the latest fashions in London and summed up the difficulty +by surmising that Mrs. Goddard had foreign blood. + +"I should have called before," said the latter, deeply impressed by the +severe appearance of the vicar's wife, "but I have been so busy putting +my things into the cottage--" + +"Pray don't think of it," answered Mrs. Ambrose. Then she added after a +pause, "I am very glad to see you." She appeared to have been weighing in +her conscience the question whether she could truthfully say so or not. +But Mrs. Goddard was grateful for the smallest advances. + +"Thank you," she said, "you are so very kind. Will you tell Mr. Ambrose +how thankful I am for his kind assistance? Yes, Nellie and I have had +hard work in moving, have not we, dear?" She drew the beautiful child +close to her and gazed lovingly into her eyes. But Nellie was shy; she +hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and then looked doubtfully at Mrs. +Ambrose, and then hid herself again. + +"How old is your little girl?" asked Mrs. Ambrose more kindly. She was +fond of children, and actually pitied any child whose mother perhaps had +foreign blood. + +"Eleanor--I call her Nellie--is eight years old. She will be nine in +January. She is tall for her age," added Mrs. Goddard with affectionate +pride. As a matter of fact Nellie was small for her years, and Mrs. +Ambrose, who was the most truthful of women, felt that she could not +conscientiously agree in calling hex tall. She changed the subject. + +"I am afraid you will find it very quiet in Billingsfield," she said +presently. + +"Oh, I am used--that is, I prefer a very quiet place. I want to live very +quietly for some years, indeed I hope for the rest of my life. Besides it +will be so good for Nellie to live in the country--she will grow so +strong." + +"She looks very well, I am sure," answered Mrs. Ambrose rather bluntly, +looking at the child's clear complexion and bright eyes. "And have you +always lived in town until now, Mrs. Goddard?" she asked. + +"Oh no, not always, but most of the year, perhaps. Indeed I think so." +Mrs. Goddard felt nervous before the searching glance of the elder woman. +Mrs. Ambrose concluded that she was not absolutely straightforward. + +"Do you think you can make the cottage comfortable?" asked the vicar's +wife, seeing that the conversation languished. + +"Oh, I think so," answered her visitor, glad to change the subject, and +suddenly becoming very voluble as she had previously been very shy. "It +is really a charming little place. Of course it is not very large, but as +we have not got very many belongings that is all the better; and the +garden is small but extremely pretty and wild, and the kitchen is very +convenient; really I quite wonder how the people who built it could have +made it all so comfortable. You see there are one--two--the pantry, the +kitchen and two rooms on the ground floor and plenty of room upstairs for +everybody, and as for the sun! it streams into all the windows at once +from morning till night. And such a pretty view, too, of that old gate +opposite--where does it lead to, Mrs. Ambrose? It is so very pretty." + +"It leads to the park and the Hall," answered Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Oh--" Mrs. Goddard's tone changed. "But nobody lives there?" she asked +suddenly. + +"Oh no--it is in Chancery, you know." + +"What--what is that, exactly?" asked Mrs. Goddard, timidly. "Is there a +young heir waiting to grow up--I mean waiting to take possession?" + +"No. There is a suit about it. It has been going on for forty years my +husband says, and they cannot decide to whom it belongs." + +"I see," answered Mrs. Goddard. "I suppose they will never decide now." + +"Probably not for some time." + +"It must be a very pretty place. Can one go in, do you think? I am so +fond of trees--what a beautiful garden you have yourself, Mrs. Ambrose." + +"Would you like to see it?" asked the vicar's wife, anxious to bring the +visit to a conclusion. + +"Oh, thank you--of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "Would not you +like to run about the garden, Nellie?" + +The little girl nodded slowly and stared at Mrs. Ambrose. + +"My husband is a very good gardener," said the latter, leading the way +out to the hall. "And so was John Short, but he has left us, you know." + +"Who was John Short?" asked Mrs. Goddard rather absently, as she watched +Mrs. Ambrose who was wrapping herself in a huge blue waterproof cloak and +tying a sort of worsted hood over her head. + +"He was one of the boys Mr. Ambrose prepared for college--such a good +fellow. You may have seen him when you came last June, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"Had he very bright blue eyes--a nice face?" + +"Yes--that is, it might have been Mr. Angleside--Lord Scatterbeigh's +son--he was here, too." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Goddard, "perhaps it was." + +"Mamma," asked little Nellie, "what is Laws Catterbay?" + +"A peer, darling." + +"Like the one at Brighton, mamma, with a band?" + +"No, child," answered the mother laughing. "P, double E, R, peer--a rich +gentleman." + +"Like poor papa then?" inquired the irrepressible Eleanor. + +Mrs. Goddard turned pale and pressed the little girl close to her side, +leaning down to whisper in her ear. + +"You must not ask foolish questions, darling--I will tell you by and by." + +"Papa was a rich gentleman," objected the child. + +Mrs. Goddard looked at Mrs. Ambrose, and the ready tears came into her +eyes. The vicar's wife smiled kindly and took little Nellie by the hand. + +"Come, dear," she said in the motherly tone that was natural to her when +she was not receiving visitors. "Come and see the garden and you can play +with Carlo." + +"Can't I see Laws Catterbay, too?" asked the little girl rather +wistfully. + +"Carlo is a great, big, brown dog," said Mrs. Ambrose, leading the child +out into the garden, while Mrs. Goddard followed close behind. Before +they had gone far they came upon the vicar, arrayed in an old coat, his +hands thrust into a pair of gigantic gardening gloves and a battered old +felt hat upon his head. Mrs. Goddard had felt rather uncomfortable in the +impressive society of Mrs. Ambrose and the sight of the vicar's genial +face was reassuring in the extreme. She was not disappointed, for he +immediately relieved the situation by asking all manner of kindly +questions, interspersed with remarks upon his garden, while Mrs. Ambrose +introduced little Nellie to the acquaintance of Carlo who had not seen so +pretty a little girl for many a day, and capered and wagged his feathery +tail in a manner most unseemly for so clerical a dog. + +So it came about that Mrs. Goddard established herself at Billingsfield +and made her first visit to the vicarage. After that the ice was broken +and things went on smoothly enough. Mrs. Ambrose's hints concerning +foreign blood, and her husband's invariable remonstrance to the effect +that she ought to be more charitable, grew more and more rare as time +went on, and finally ceased altogether. Mrs. Goddard became a regular +institution, and ceased to astonish the inhabitants. Mr. Thomas Reid, the +sexton, was heard to remark from time to time that he "didn't hold with +th'm newfangle fashins in dress;" but he was a regular old conservative, +and most people agreed with Mr. Abraham Boosey of the Duke's Head, who +had often been to London, and who said she did "look just A one, slap up, +she did!" + +Mrs. Goddard became an institution, and in the course of the first year +of her residence in the cottage it came to be expected that she should +dine at the vicarage at least once a week; and once a week, also, Mr. and +Mrs. Ambrose went up and had tea with her and little Eleanor at the +cottage. It came to pass also that Mrs. Goddard heard a vast deal of talk +about John Short and his successes at Trinity, and she actually developed +a lively interest in his career, and asked for news of him almost as +eagerly as though he had been already a friend of her own. In very quiet +places people easily get into the sympathetic habit of regarding their +neighbours' interests as very closely allied to their own. The constant +talk about John Short, the vicar's sanguine hopes for his brilliant +future, and Mrs. Ambrose's unlimited praise of his moral qualities, +repeated day by day and week by week produced a vivid impression on Mrs. +Goddard's mind. It would have surprised her and even amused her beyond +measure had she had any idea that she herself had for a long time +absorbed the interest of this same John Short, that he had written +hundreds of Greek and Latin verses in her praise, while wholly ignorant +of her name, and that at the very time when without knowing him, she was +constantly mentioning him as though she knew him intimately well, he +himself was looking back to the one glimpse he had had of her, as to a +dream of unspeakable bliss. + +It never occurred to Mr. Ambrose's mind to tell John in the occasional +letters he wrote that Mrs. Goddard had settled in Billingsfield. John, he +thought, could take no possible interest in knowing about her, and +moreover, Mrs. Goddard herself was most anxious never to be mentioned +abroad. She had come to Billingsfield to live in complete obscurity, and +the good vicar had promised that as far as he and his wife were concerned +she should have her wish. To tell even John Short, his own beloved pupil, +would be to some extent a breach of faith, and there was assuredly no +earthly reason why John should be told. It might do harm, for of course +the young fellow had made acquaintances at Cambridge; he had probably +read about the Goddard case in the papers, and might talk about it. If he +should happen to come down for a day or two he would probably meet her; +but that could not be avoided. It was not likely that he would come for +some time. The vicar himself intended to go up to Cambridge for a day or +two after Christmas to see him; but the winter flew by and Mr. Ambrose +did not go. Then came Easter, then the summer and the Long vacation. John +wrote that he could not leave his books for a day, but that he hoped to +run down next Christmas. Again he did not come, but there came the news +of his having won another and a more important scholarship; the news also +that he was already regarded as the most promising man in the university, +all of which exceedingly delighted the heart of the Reverend Augustin +Ambrose, and being told with eulogistic comments to Mrs. Goddard, tended +to increase the interest she felt in the existence of John Short, so that +she began to long for a sight of him, without exactly knowing why. + +Gradually, too, as she and her little girl passed many peaceful days in +the quiet cottage, the sad woman's face grew less sorrowful. She spoke of +herself more cheerfully and dwelt less upon the subject of her grief. She +had at first been so miserable that she could hardly talk at all without +referring to her unhappy situation though, after her first interview with +Mrs. Ambrose, no one had ever heard her mention any details connected +with her trouble. But now she never approached the subject at all. Her +face lost none of its pathetic beauty, it is true, but it seemed to +express sorrow past rather than present. Meanwhile little Nellie grew +daily more lovely, and absorbed more and more of her mother's attention. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Events of such stirring interest as the establishment of Mrs. Goddard in +Billingsfield rarely come alone; for it seems to be in the nature of +great changes to bring other changes with them, even when there is no +apparent connection whatever between them. It took nearly two years for +Billingsfield to recover from its astonishment at Mrs. Goddard's arrival, +and before the excitement had completely worn off the village was again +taken off its feet by unexpected news of stupendous import, even as of +old Pompeii was overthrown by a second earthquake before it had wholly +recovered from the devastation caused by the first. The shock was indeed +a severe one. The Juxon estate was reported to be out of Chancery, and a +new squire was coming to take up his residence at the Hall. + +It is not known exactly how the thing first became known, but there was +soon no doubt whatever that it was true. Thomas Reid, the sexton, who +remembered that the old squire died forty years ago come Michaelmas, and +had been buried in a "wonderful heavy" coffin, Thomas Reid the stern +censor of the vicar's sermons, a melancholic and sober man, so far lost +his head over the news as to ask Mr. Ambrose's leave to ring the bells, +Mr. Abraham Boosey having promised beer for the ringers. Even to the +vicar's enlightened mind it seemed fitting that there should be some +festivity over so great an event and the bells were accordingly rung +during one whole afternoon. Thomas Reid's ringers never got beyond the +first "bob" of a peal, for with the exception of the sexton himself and +old William Speller the wheelwright, who pulled the treble bell, they +were chiefly dull youths who with infinite difficulty had been taught +what changes they knew by rote and had very little idea of ringing by +scientific rule. Moreover Mr. Boosey was liberal in the matter of beer +that day and the effect of each successive can that was taken up the +stairs of the old tower was immediately apparent to every one within +hearing, that is to say as far as five miles around. + +The estate was out of Chancery at last. For forty years, ever since the +death of the old squire, no one had rightfully called the Hall his own. +The heir had lived abroad, and had lived in such an exceedingly eccentric +manner as to give ground for a suit _de lunatico inquirendo_, brought by +another heir. With the consistency of judicial purpose which +characterises such proceedings the courts appeared to have decided that +though the natural possessor, the eccentric individual who lived abroad, +was too mad to be left in actual possession, he was not mad enough to +justify actual possession in the person of the next of kin. Proceedings +continued, fees were paid, a certain legal personage already mentioned +came down from time to time and looked over the estate, but the matter +was not finally settled until the eccentric individual died, after forty +years of eccentricity, to the infinite relief and satisfaction of all +parties and especially of his lawful successor Charles James Juxon now, +at last, "of Billingsfield Hall, in the county of Essex, Esquire." + +In due time also Mr. Juxon appeared. It was natural that he should come +to see the vicar, and as it happened that he called late in the afternoon +upon the day when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor were accustomed to dine +at the vicarage, he at once had an opportunity of making the acquaintance +of his tenant; thus, if we except the free-thinking doctor, it will be +seen that Mr. Juxon was in the course of five minutes introduced to the +whole of the Billingsfield society. + +He was a man inclining towards middle age, of an active and vigorous +body, of a moderate intelligence and of decidedly prepossessing +appearance. His features were of the strong, square type, common to men +whose fathers for many generations have lived in the country. His eyes +were small, blue and very bright, and to judge from the lines in his +sunburned face he was a man who laughed often and heartily. He had an +abundance of short brown hair, parted very far upon one side and brushed +to a phenomenal smoothness, and he wore a full brown beard, cut rather +short and carefully trimmed. He immediately won the heart of Mrs. Ambrose +on account of his extremely neat appearance. There was no foreign blood +in him, she was sure. He had large clean hands with large and polished +nails. He wore very well made clothes, and he spoke like a gentleman. +The vicar, too, was at once prepossessed in his favour, and even little +Eleanor, who was generally very shy before strangers, looked at him +admiringly and showed little of her usual bashfulness. But Mrs. Goddard +seemed ill at ease and tried to keep out of the conversation as much as +possible. + +"There have been great rejoicings at the prospect of your arrival," said +the vicar when the new-comer had been introduced to both the ladies. "I +fancy that if you had let it be known that you were coming down to-day +the people would have turned out to meet you at the station." + +"The truth is, I rather avoid that sort of thing," said the squire, +smiling. "I would rather enter upon my dominions as quietly as possible." + +"It is much better for the people, too," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. "Their +idea of a holiday is to do no work and have too much beer." + +"I daresay that would not hurt them much," answered Mr. Juxon cheerfully. +"By the bye, I know nothing about them. I have never been here before. +My man of business wanted to come down and show me over the estate, and +introduce me to the farmers and all that, but I thought it would be such +a bore that I would not have him." + +"There is not much to tell, really," said Mr. Ambrose. "The society of +Billingsfield is all here," he added with a smile, "including one of your +tenants." + +"Are you my tenant?" asked Mr. Juxon pleasantly, and he looked at Mrs. +Goddard. + +"Yes," said she, "I have taken the cottage." + +"The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the +cottage?" + +"Such a pretty place," answered Mrs. Ambrose, "just opposite the park +gate. You must have seen it as you came down." + +"Oh, is that it?" said the squire. "Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived +there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall +is a perfect wilderness." + +Mrs. Goddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into +his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and +her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession +at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The +idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance, +and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he +would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and +the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors +at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was +at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her +embarrassment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the +cottage himself. + +"Do not be afraid, Mrs. Goddard," he said quickly, "I am not going to do +anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it +would be too small, you know." + +"Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity +which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs. +Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should +have said that he was married as soon as he entered the room. + +"I have a very large family," answered the squire, and after enjoying for +a moment the surprise he saw in Mrs. Ambrose's face, he added with a +laugh, "I have a library of ten thousand volumes--a very large family +indeed. Otherwise I have no encumbrances, thank heaven." + +"You are a scholar?" asked Mr. Ambrose eagerly. + +"A book fancier, only a book fancier," returned the squire modestly. "But +I am very fond of the fancy." + +"What is a book fancier, mamma?" asked little Eleanor in a whisper. But +Mr. Juxon heard the child's question. + +"If your mamma will bring you up to the Hall one of these days, Miss +Goddard, I will show you. A book fancier is a terrible fellow who has +lots of books, and is pursued by a large evil genius telling him he must +buy every book he sees, and that he will never by any possibility read +half of them before he dies." + +Little Eleanor stared for a moment with her great violet eyes, and then +turning again to her mother, whispered in her ear. + +"Mamma, he called me Miss Goddard!" + +"Run out and play in the garden, darling," said her mother with a smile. +But the child would not go and sat down on a stool and stared at the +squire, who was immensely delighted. + +"So you are going to bring all your library, Mr. Juxon?" asked the vicar +returning to the charge. + +"Yes--and I beg you will make any use of it you please," answered the +visitor. "I have a great fondness for books and I think I have some +valuable volumes. But I am no great scholar, as you are, though I read a +great deal. I have always noticed that the men who accumulate great +libraries do not know much, and the men who know a great deal have very +few books. Now I will wager that you have not a thousand volumes in your +house, Mr. Ambrose." + +"Five hundred would be nearer the mark," said the vicar. + +"The fewer one has the nearer one approaches to Aquinas's _homo unius +libri_," returned the squire. "You are nine thousand five hundred degrees +nearer to ideal wisdom than I am." + +Mr. Ambrose laughed. + +"Nevertheless," he said, "you may be sure that if you give me leave to +use your books, I will take advantage of the permission. It is in writing +sermons that one feels the want of a good library." + +"I should think it would be an awful bore to write sermons," remarked the +squire with such perfect innocence that both the vicar and Mrs. Goddard +laughed loudly. But Mrs. Ambrose eyed Mr. Juxon with renewed severity. + +"I should fancy it would be a much greater bore, as you call it, to the +congregation if my husband never wrote any new ones," she said stiffly. +Whereat the squire looked rather puzzled, and coloured a little. But Mr. +Ambrose came to the rescue. + +"Yes, indeed, my wife is quite right. There are no people with such +terrible memories as churchwardens. They remember a sermon twenty years +old. But as you say, the writing of sermons is not an easy task when a +man has been at it for thirty years and more. A man begins by being +enthusiastic, then his mind gets into a groove and for some time, if he +happens to like the groove, he writes very well. But by and by he has +written all there is to be said in the particular line he has chosen and +he does not know how to choose another. That is the time when a man needs +a library to help him." + +"I really don't think you have reached that point, Mr. Ambrose," remarked +Mrs. Goddard. She admired the vicar and liked his sermons. + +"You are fortunately not in the position of my churchwardens," answered +Mr. Ambrose. "You have not been listening to me for thirty years." + +"How long have you been my tenant, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire. + +"Nearly two years," she answered thoughtfully, and her sad eyes rested a +moment upon Mr. Juxon's face with an expression he remembered. Indeed he +looked at her very often and as he looked his admiration increased, so +that when he rose to take his leave the predominant impression of the +vicarage which remained in his mind was that of her face. Something of +the same fascination took hold of him which had seized upon John Short +when he caught sight of Mrs. Goddard through the open door of the study, +something of that unexpected interest which in Mrs. Ambrose had at first +aroused a half suspicious dislike, now long forgotten. + +Before the squire left he invited the whole party to come and dine with +him at the Hall on the following Saturday. He must have some kind of a +house warming, he said, for he was altogether too lonely up there. Mrs. +Goddard would bring Eleanor, of course; they would dine early--it would +not be late for the little girl. If they all liked they could call it tea +instead of dinner. Of course everything was topsy-turvy in the Hall, but +they would excuse that. He hoped to establish friendly relations with his +vicar and with his tenant--his fair tenant. Might he call soon and see +whether there was anything that could be done to improve the cottage? +Before the day when they were all coming to dine? He would call +to-morrow, then. Anything that needed doing should be done, Mrs. Goddard +might be sure. When the books arrived he would let Mr. Ambrose know, of +course, and they would have a day together. + +So he went away, leaving the impression that he was a very good-natured +and agreeable man. Even Mrs. Ambrose was mollified. He had shocked her by +his remark about sermon writing, but he had of course not meant it, and +he appeared to mean to be very civil. It was curious to see how all +severity vanished from Mrs. Ambrose's manner so soon as the stranger who +aroused it was out of sight and hearing. She appeared as a formidably +stern type of the British matron to the chance visitors who came to the +vicarage; but they were no sooner gone than her natural temper was +restored and she was kindness and geniality itself. + +But Mrs. Goddard was very thoughtful. She was not pleased at the fact of +an addition to the Billingsfield community, and yet she liked the +appearance of the squire. He had declared his intention of calling upon +her on the following day, and she would be bound to receive him. She was +young, she had been shut off from the world for two years, and the +prospect of Mr. Juxon's acquaintance was in itself not unpleasant; but +the idea that he was to be permanently established in the Hall frightened +her. She had felt since she came to Billingsfield that from the very +first she had put herself upon a footing of safety by telling her story +to the vicar. But the vicar would, not without her permission repeat that +story to Mr. Juxon. Was she herself called upon to do so? She was a very +sensitive woman, and her impressionable nature had been strongly affected +by what she had suffered. An almost morbid fear of seeming to make false +pretences possessed her. She was more than thirty years of age, it is +true, but she saw plainly enough in her glass that she was more than +passably good-looking still. There were one or two grey threads in her +brown waving hair and she took no trouble to remove them; no one ever +noticed them. There were one or two lines, very faint lines, in her +forehead; no one ever saw them. She could hardly see them herself. +Supposing--why should she not suppose it?--supposing Mr. Juxon were to +take a fancy to her, as a lone bachelor of forty and odd might easily +take a fancy to a pretty woman who was his tenant and lived at his gate, +what should she do? He was an honest man, and she was a conscientious +woman; she could not deceive him, if it came to that. She would have to +tell him the whole truth. As she thought of it, she turned pale and +trembled. And yet she had liked his face, she had told him he might call +at the cottage, and her woman's instinct foresaw that she was to see him +often. It was not vanity which made her think that the squire might grow +to like her too much. She had had experiences in her life and she knew +that she was attractive; the very fear she had felt for the last two +years lest she should be thrown into the society of men who might be +attracted by her, increased her apprehension tenfold. She could not look +forward with indifference to the expected visit, for the novelty of +seeing any one besides the vicar and his wife was too great; she could +not refuse to see the squire, for he would come again and again until she +received him; and yet, she could not get rid of the idea that there was +danger in seeing him. Call it as one may, that woman's instinct of peril +is rarely at fault. + +In the late twilight of the June evening Mrs. Goddard and Eleanor waited +home together by the broad road which led towards the park gate. + +"Don't you think Mr. Juxon is very kind, mamma?" asked the child. + +"Yes, darling, I have no doubt he is. It was very good of him to ask you +to go to the Hall." + +"And he called me Miss Goddard," said Eleanor. "I wonder whether he will +always call me Miss Goddard." + +"He did not know your name was Nellie," explained her mother. + +"Oh, I wish nobody knew, mamma. It was so nice. When shall I be grown up, +mamma?" + +"Soon, my child--too soon," said Mrs. Goddard with a sigh. Nellie looked +at her mother and was silent for a minute. + +"Mamma, do you like Mr. Juxon?" she asked presently. + +"No, dear--how can one like anybody one has only seen once?" + +"Oh--but I thought you might," said Nellie. "Don't you think you will, +mamma? Say you will--do!" + +"Why?" asked her mother in some surprise. "I cannot say anything about +it. I daresay he is very nice." + +"It will be so delightful to go to the Hall to dinner and be waited +on by big real servants--not like Susan at the vicarage, or Martha. Won't +you like it, mamma? Of course Mr. Juxon will have real servants, just +like--like poor papa." Nellie finished her speech rather doubtfully as +though not sure how her mother would take it. Mrs. Goddard sighed again, +but said nothing. She could not stop the child's talking--why should +Nellie not speak of her father? Nellie did not know. + +"I think it will be perfectly delightful," said Nellie, seeing she got no +answer from her mother, and as though putting the final seal of +affirmation to her remarks about the Hall. But she appeared to be +satisfied at not having been contradicted and did not return to the +subject that evening. + +Mr. Juxon lost no time in keeping his word and on the following morning +at about eleven o'clock, when Mrs. Goddard was just hearing the last of +Nellie's lesson in geography and little Nellie herself was beginning to +be terribly tired of acquiring knowledge in such very warm weather, the +squire's square figure was seen to emerge from the park gate opposite, +clad in grey knickerbockers and dark green stockings, a rose in his +buttonhole and a thick stick in his hand, presenting all the traditional +appearance of a thriving country gentleman of the period. He crossed the +road, stopped a moment and whistled his dog to heel and then opened the +wicket gate that led to the cottage. Nellie sprang to the window in wild +excitement. + +"Oh what a dog!" she cried. "Mamma, _do_ come and see! And Mr. Juxon is +coming, too--he has green stockings!" + +But Mrs. Goddard, who was not prepared for so early a visit, hastily put +away what might be described as the debris of Nellie's lessons, to wit, a +much thumbed book of geography, a well worn spelling book, a very +particularly inky piece of blotting paper, a pen of which most of the +stock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for +several months, and an ancient doll, without the assistance of which, as +a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could +not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them, +Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the +time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was +beginning to echo in the small passage, Mrs. Goddard had passed to the +consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but +in other respects she was presentable. + +"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her +mother. + +"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing +look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one +moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky +fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his +coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of +some gigantic beast plunging into the passage as the front door was +opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured +laugh from the squire. + +"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a +dog he is, sir--" + +"Is Mrs. Goddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the +collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire +looked in. Martha fled down the passage. + +"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to +exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage. + +"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression +of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!" + +"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr. +Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed +and was glad of the diversion. + +"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a +little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs. +Goddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder, +he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was +given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a +big dog is not it?" + +"Very," said Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an +exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he +combined with his gigantic strength and size a grace and swiftness of +motion which no mastiff can possess. His smooth clean coat, of a +perfectly even slate colour throughout, was without folds, close as a +greyhound's, showing every articulation and every swelling muscle of his +body. His broad square head and monstrous jaw betrayed more of the +quickness and sudden ferocity of the tiger than those suggested by the +heavy, lion-like jowl of the English mastiff. His ears, too, were close +cropped, in accordance with the Russian fashion, and somehow the +compactness this gave to his head seemed to throw forward and bring into +prominence his great fiery eyes, that reflected red lights as he moved, +and did not tend to inspire confidence in the timid stranger. + +"Do sit down," said Mrs. Goddard, and when the squire was seated Stamboul +sat himself down upon his haunches beside him, and looked slowly from his +master to the lady and back again, his tongue hanging out as though +anxious to hear what they might have to say to each other. + +"I thought I should be sure to find you in the morning," began Mr. Juxon, +after a pause. "I hope I have not disturbed you?" + +"Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished her lessons." + +"The fact is," continued the squire, "that I was going to survey the +nakedness of the land which has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of +the park I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist the +temptation of calling. I had no idea we were such near neighbours." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "it is very near." + +Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not exactly at a loss for words, +but Mrs. Goddard did not seem inclined to encourage the conversation. He +saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable but that its +arrangement betrayed a considerable taste for luxury. The furniture was +of a kind not generally seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed +part of some great establishment. The carpet itself was of a finer and +softer kind than any at the Hall. The writing-table was a piece of richly +inlaid work, and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe and +valuable kind that are seen in rich men's houses. A clock which was +undoubtedly of the Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece. On +the walls were hung three or four pictures which, Mr. Juxon thought, must +be both old and of great value. Upon a little table by the fireplace lay +four or five objects of Chinese jade and Japanese ivory and a silver +chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw, and wondered why such a +very pretty woman, who possessed such very pretty things, should choose +to come and live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield. And +having seen and wondered he became interested in his charming tenant and +endeavoured to carry on the conversation in a more confidential strain. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"You have done more towards beautifying the cottage than I could have +hoped to do," said Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one +hand on Stamboul's great head. + +"It was very pretty of itself," answered Mrs. Goddard, "and fortunately +it is not very big, or my things would look lost in it." + +"I should not say that--you have so many beautiful things. They seem to +suit the place so well. I am sure you will never think of taking them +away." + +"Not if I can help it--I am too glad to be quiet." + +"You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire. + +"No--not exactly that--only a little, after all. I have not been to +Constantinople for instance," she added looking at the hound Mr. Juxon +had brought from the East. "You are indeed a traveller." + +"I have travelled all my life," said the squire, indifferently, as though +the subject of his wanderings did not interest him. "From what little I +have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will find all the quiet you could +wish, here. Really, I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for +information. What sort of man is that excellent rector down there, whom I +met last night?" + +The squire's tone became more confidential as he put the question. + +"Well--he is not a rector, to begin with," answered Mrs. Goddard with a +smile, "he is the vicar, and he is a most good man, whom I have always +found most kind." + +"I can readily fancy that," said Mr. Juxon. "But his wife seems to be of +the severe type." + +"No--she struck me so at first, too. I think it is only with strangers. +She is such a motherly sort of woman, you do not know! She only has that +little manner when you first meet her." + +"What a strange thing that is!" remarked the squire, looking at Mrs. +Goddard. "The natural belief of English people in each other's depravity +until they have had time to make acquaintance! And is there no one else +here--no doctor--no doctor's wife?" + +"Not a soul," answered Mrs. Goddard. "There is a doctor, but the vicarage +suspects him of free thought. He certainly never goes to church. He has +no wife." + +"This is the most Arcadian retreat I ever was in. Upon my word, I am a +very lucky man." + +"I suppose that it must be a relief when one has travelled so much," +replied Mrs. Goddard. + +"Or suffered very much," added the squire, half unconsciously, looking at +her sad face. + +"Yes," she answered. At that moment the door opened and Nellie entered +the room, having successfully grappled with the inkstains. She went +straight to the squire, and held out her hand, blushing a little, but +looking very pretty. Then she saw the huge head of Stamboul who looked up +at her with a ferociously agreeable canine smile, and thwacked the carpet +with his tail as he sat; Nellie started back. + +"Oh, what a dog!" she exclaimed. But very soon she was on excellent +terms with him; little Nellie was not timid, and Stamboul, who liked +people who were not afraid of him and was especially fond of children, +did his best to be amusing. + +"He is a very good dog," remarked Mr. Juxon. "He once did me a very good +service." + +"How was that?" + +"I was riding in the Belgrade forest one summer. I was alone with +Stamboul following. A couple of ruffians tried to rob me. Stamboul caught +one of them." + +"Did he hurt him very much?" + +"I don't know--he killed him before the fellow could scream, and I shot +the other," replied the squire calmly. + +"What a horrible story!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, turning pale. "Come +here, Nellie--don't touch that dreadful dog!" + +"Do not be afraid--he is perfectly harmless. Come here Stamboul!" The +huge beast obeyed, wagging his tail, and sat down at his master's feet, +still looking rather wistfully at Nellie who had been playing with him. +"You see," continued Mr. Juxon, "he is as quiet as a lamb--would not hurt +a fly!" + +"I think it is dreadful to have such animals about," said Mrs. Goddard in +a low voice, still looking at the dog with horror. + +"I am sorry I told you. It may prejudice you against him. I only meant to +explain how faithful he is, that is all. You see a man grows fond of a +creature that has saved his life." + +"I suppose so, but it is rather startling to see such an animal so near +to one. I fear I am very nervous." + +"By the bye." said the squire with the bold irrelevancy of a man who +wants to turn the subject, "are you fond of flowers?" + +"I?" said Mrs. Goddard in surprise. "Yes--very. Why?" + +"I thought you would not mind if I had the garden here improved a little. +One might put in a couple of frames. I did not see any flowers about. I +am so fond of them myself, you see, that I always look for them." + +"You are very kind," answered Mrs. Goddard. "But I would not have you +take any trouble on my account. We are so comfortable and so fond of the +cottage already--" + +"Well, I hope you will grow to like it even better," returned the squire +with a genial smile. "Anything I can do, you know--" he rose as though to +take his leave. "Excuse me, but may I look at that picture? Andrea del +Sarto? Yes, I thought so--wonderful--upon my word, in a cottage in +Billingsfield. Where did you find it?" + +"It was my husband's," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"Ah--ah, yes," said the squire in a subdued tone. "I beg your pardon," he +added, as people often do, unconsciously, when they fancy they have +accidentally roused in another a painful train of thought. Then he turned +to go. "We dine at half-past seven, you know, so as to be early for Miss +Nellie," he said, as he went out. + +Mrs. Goddard was glad he was gone, though she felt that he was not +unsympathetic. The story of the dog had frightened her, and her own +mention of her husband had made her nervous and sad. More than ever she +felt that fear of being in a false position, which had assailed her when +she had first met the squire on the previous evening. He had at once +opened relations with her in a way which showed that he intended to be +intimate; he had offered to improve her cottage, had insisted upon making +frames in her garden, had asked her to dinner with the Ambroses and had +established the right to talk to her whenever he got a chance. He +interested her, too, which was worse. His passing references to his +travels and to his adventures, of which he spoke with the indifference +of a man accustomed to danger, his unassuming manner, his frank +ways--everything about him awakened her interest. She had supposed that +in two years the very faculty of being interested by a man would be +dulled if not destroyed; she found to her annoyance that though she had +seen Mr. Juxon only twice she could not put him out of her thoughts. She +was, moreover, a nervous, almost morbid, woman, and the natural result of +trying to forget his existence was that she could think of nothing else. + +How much better it would be, she thought, if he knew her story from the +first. He might then be as friendly as he pleased; there would be no +danger in it, to him or to her. She almost determined to go at once and +ask the vicar's advice. But by the time she had nearly made up her mind +it was the hour for luncheon, and little Nellie's appetite was exigent. +By the time lunch was over her determination had changed. She had +reflected that the vicar would think her morbid, that, with his usual +good sense, he would say there was no necessity for telling the squire +anything; indeed, that to do so would be undignified. If the squire were +indeed going to lead the life of a recluse as he proposed doing, he was +not really a man to cause her any apprehension. If he had travelled about +the world for forty years, without having his heart disturbed by any of +the women he must have met in that time, he was certainly not the kind of +man, when once he had determined to settle in his home, to fall in love +with the first pretty woman he met. It was absurd; there was no +likelihood of it; it was her own miserable vanity, she told herself, +which made the thing seem probable, and she would not think any more +about it. She, a woman thirty-one years of age, with a daughter who ere +long would be growing up to womanhood! To be afraid of a mere stranger +like Mr. Juxon--afraid lest he should fall in love with her! Could +anything be more ridiculous? Her duty was to live quietly as she had +lived before, to take no more notice of the squire than was necessary in +order to be civil, and so all would be well. + +And so it seemed for a long time. The squire improved the garden of the +cottage and Mrs. Goddard and Nellie, with the Ambroses, dined at the +Hall, which at first seemed an exceedingly dreary and dismal place, but +which, as they returned thither again and again, grew more and more +luxurious, till the transformation was complete. Mr. Juxon brought all +manner of things to the house; vans upon vans arrived, laden with boxes +of books and pictures and oriental carpets and rare objects which the +squire had collected in his many years of travel, and which he appeared +to have stored in London until he had at last inherited the Hall. The +longer the Ambroses and Mrs. Goddard knew him, the more singularly +impressed they were with his reticence concerning himself. He appeared to +have been everywhere, to have seen everything, and he had certainly +brought back a vast collection of more or less valuable objects from his +travels, besides the large library he had accumulated and which contained +many rare and curious editions of ancient books. He was evidently a man +of very good education, and a much better scholar than he was willing to +allow. The vicar delighted in his society and when the two found +themselves together in the great room which Mr. Juxon had lined with +well-filled shelves, they remained for hours absorbed in literary and +scholastic talk. But whenever the vicar approached the subject of the +squire's past life, the latter became vague and gave ambiguous answers to +any direct questions addressed to him. He evidently disliked talking of +himself, though he would talk about anything else that occurred to him +with a fluency which Mrs. Ambrose declared was the only un-English thing +about him. The consequence was that the vicar became more and more +interested in his new acquaintance, and though the squire was so frank +and honest a man that it was impossible to suspect him of any doubtful +action in the past, Mr. Ambrose suspected that he had a secret. Indeed +after hearing the story Mrs. Goddard had confided to his ears, nothing +would have surprised the vicar. After finding that so good, so upright +and so honourable a woman as the fair tenant of the cottage could be put +into such a singularly painful position as that in which she now found +herself, it was not hard to imagine that this singular person who had +inherited the Hall might also have some weighty reason for loving the +solitude of Billingsfield. + +To chronicle the small events which occurred in that Arcadian parish, +would be to overstep the bounds of permissible tediousness. In such +places all events move slowly and take long to develop to their results. +The passions which in our own quickly moving world spring up, flourish, +wither and are cut down in a month require, when they are not stimulated +by the fertilising heat of artificial surroundings, a longer period for +their growth; and when that growth is attained they are likely to be +stronger and more deeply rooted. It is not true that the study of them is +less interesting, nor that they have less importance in themselves. The +difficulty of narrative is greater when they are to be described, for it +is necessary to carry the imagination in a short time over a long period, +to show how from small incidents great results follow, and to show also +how the very limited and trivial nature of the surroundings may cause +important things to be overlooked. Amidst such influences acquaintance is +soon made between the few persons so thrown together, but each is apt to +regard such new acquaintance merely as bearing upon his or her own +particular interests. It is surprising to see how people will live side +by side in solitude, even in danger, in distant settlements, in the +mining districts of the West, in up-country stations in India, on board +ship, even, for months and years, without knowing anything of each +other's previous history; whereas in the crowded centres of civilisation +and society the first questions are "Where does he come from?" "What are +his antecedents?" "What has he done in the world?" And unless a man can +answer such inquiries to the general satisfaction he is likely to be +heavily handicapped in the social race. But in more primitive situations +men are ruled by more primitive feelings of mutual respect; it is +considered that a man should not be pressed to speak of things he shows +no desire to discuss and that, provided he does not interfere with his +neighbour's wellbeing, his past life is nobody's business. One may feel +curiosity concerning him, but under no circumstances is one justified in +asking questions. + +For these reasons, although Mr. Juxon's arrival and instalment in the +Hall were regarded with satisfaction by the little circle at +Billingsfield, while he himself was at once received into intimacy and +treated with cordial friendliness, he nevertheless represented in the +minds of all an unsolved enigma. And to the squire the existence of one +of the circle was at least as problematical as his own life could seem to +any of them. The more he saw of Mrs. Goddard, the more he wondered at her +and speculated about her and the less he dared to ask her any questions. +But he understood from Mr. Ambrose's manner, that the vicar at least was +in possession of her secret, and he inferred from what he was able to +judge about the vicar's character that the latter was not a man to extend +his friendship to any one who did not deserve it. Whatever Mrs. Goddard's +story was, he felt sure that her troubles had not been caused by her own +misconduct. She was in every respect what he called a good woman. Of +course, too, she was a widow; the way in which she spoke of her husband +implied that, on those rare occasions when she spoke of him at all. +Charles James Juxon was a gentleman, whatever course of life he had +followed before settling in the country, and he did not feel that he +should be justified in asking questions about Mrs. Goddard of the vicar. +Besides, as time went on and he found his own interest in her increasing, +he began to nourish the hope that he might one day hear her story from +her own lips. In his simplicity it did not strike him that he himself had +grown to be an object of interest to her. + +Somehow, during the summer and autumn of that year, Mrs. Goddard +contracted a habit of watching the park gate from the window of the +cottage, particularly at certain hours of the day. It was only a habit, +but it seemed to amuse her. She used to sit in the small bay window with +her books, reading to herself or teaching Nellie, and it was quite +natural that from time to time she should look out across the road. But +it rarely happened, when she was installed in that particular place, that +Mr. Juxon failed to appear at the gate, with his dog Stamboul, his green +stockings, his stick and the inevitable rose in his coat. Moreover he +generally crossed the road and, if he did not enter the cottage and spend +a quarter of an hour in conversation, he at least spoke to Mrs. Goddard +through the open window. It was remarkable, too, that as time went on +what at first had seemed the result of chance, recurred with such +invariable regularity as to betray the existence of a fixed rule. Nellie, +too, who was an observant child, had ceased asking questions but watched +her mother with her great violet eyes in a way that made Mrs. Goddard +nervous. Nellie liked the squire very much but though she asked her +mother very often at first whether she, too, was fond of that nice Mr. +Juxon, the answers she received were not encouraging. How was it +possible, Mrs. Goddard asked, to speak of liking anybody one had known so +short a time? And as Nellie was quite unable to answer such an inquiry, +she desisted from her questions and applied herself to the method of +personal observation. But here, too, she was met by a hopeless +difficulty. The squire and her mother never seemed to have any secrets, +as Nellie would have expressed it. They met daily, and daily exchanged +very much the same remarks concerning the weather, the garden, the +vicar's last sermon. When they talked about anything else, they spoke of +books, of which the squire lent Mrs. Goddard a great number. But this was +a subject which did not interest Nellie very much; she was not by any +means a prodigy in the way of learning, and though she was now nearly +eleven years old was only just beginning to read the Waverley novels. On +one occasion she remarked to her mother that she did not believe a word +of them and did not think they were a bit like real life, but the +momentary fit of scepticism soon passed and Nellie read on contentedly, +not omitting however to watch her mother in order to find out, as her +small mind expressed it, "whether mamma really liked that nice Mr. +Juxon." Events were slowly preparing themselves which would help her to +come to a satisfactory conclusion upon that matter. + +Mr. Juxon himself was in a very uncertain state of mind. After knowing +Mrs. Goddard for six months, and having acquired the habit of seeing her +almost every day, he found to his surprise that she formed a necessary +part of his existence. It need not have surprised him, for in spite of +that lady's surmise with regard to his early life, he was in reality a +man of generous and susceptible temperament. He recognised in the +charming tenant of the cottage many qualities which he liked, and he +could not deny that she was exceedingly pretty. Being a strong man he was +particularly attracted by the pathetic expression of her face, the +perpetual sadness that was visible there when she was not momentarily +interested or amused. Had he suspected her paleness and air of secret +suffering to be the result of any physical infirmity, she would not have +interested him so much. But Mrs. Goddard's lithe figure and easy grace of +activity belied all idea of weakness. It was undoubtedly some hidden +suffering of mind which lent that sadness to her voice and features, and +which so deeply roused the sympathies of the squire. At the end of six +months Mr. Juxon was very much interested in Mrs. Goddard, but despite +all his efforts to be agreeable he seemed to have made no progress +whatever in the direction of banishing her cares. To tell the truth, it +did not enter his mind that he was in love with her. She was his tenant; +she was evidently very unhappy about something; it was therefore +undeniably his duty as a landlord and as a gentleman to make life +easy for her. + +He wondered what the matter could be. At first he had been inclined to +think that she was poor and was depressed by poverty. But though she +lived very simply, she never seemed to be in difficulties. Five hundred +pounds a year go a long way in the village of Billingsfield. It was +certainly not want of money which made her unhappy. The interest of the +sum represented by the pictures hung in her little sitting-room, not to +mention the other objects of value she possessed, would have been alone +sufficient to afford her a living. The squire himself would have given +her a high price for these things, but in six months she never in the +most distant manner suggested that she wished to part with them. The idea +then naturally suggested itself to Mr. Juxon's mind that she was still +mourning for her husband, and that she would probably continue to mourn +for him until some one, himself for instance, succeeded in consoling her +for so great a loss. + +The conclusion startled the squire. That was not precisely the part he +contemplated playing, nor the species of consolation he proposed to +offer. Mrs. Goddard was indeed a charming woman, and the squire liked +charming women and delighted in their society. But Mr. Juxon was a +bachelor of more than forty years standing, and he had never regarded +marriage as a thing of itself, for himself, desirable. He immediately +thrust the idea from his mind with a mental "_vade retro Satanas_!" and +determined that things were very agreeable in their present state, and +might go on for ever; that if Mrs. Goddard was unhappy that did not +prevent her from talking very pleasantly whenever he saw her, which was +nearly every day, and that her griefs were emphatically none of his +business. Before very long however Mr. Juxon discovered that though it +was a very simple thing to make such a determination it was a very +different thing to keep it. Mrs. Goddard interested him too much. When he +was with her he was perpetually longing to talk about herself instead of +about the weather and the garden and the books, and once or twice he was +very nearly betrayed into talking about himself, a circumstance so +extraordinary that Mr. Juxon imagined he must be either ill or going mad, +and thought seriously of sending for the doctor. He controlled the +impulse, however, and temporarily recovered; but strange to say from that +time forward the conversation languished when he found himself alone with +Mrs. Goddard, and it seemed very hard to maintain their joint interest in +the weather, the garden and the books at the proper standard of +intensity. They had grown intimate, and familiarity had begun to breed a +contempt of those petty subjects upon which their intimacy had been +founded. It is not clear why this should be so, but it is true, +nevertheless, and many a couple before Charles Juxon and Mary Goddard had +found it out. As the interest of two people in each other increases their +interest in things, as things, diminishes in like ratio, and they are +very certain ultimately to reach that point described by the Frenchman's +maxim--"a man should never talk to a woman except of herself or himself." + +If Mr. Juxon was not in love with Mary Goddard he was at least rapidly +approaching a very dangerous state; for he saw her every day and could +not let one day go by without seeing her, and moreover he grew silent in +her company, to a degree which embarrassed her and made him feel himself +more stupid than he had ever dreamed possible; so that he would sometimes +stay too long, in the hope of finding something to say, and sometimes he +would leave her abruptly and go and shut himself up with his books, and +busy himself with his catalogues and his bindings and the arrangement of +his rare editions. One day at last, he felt that he had behaved so very +absurdly that he was ashamed of himself, and suddenly disappeared for +nearly a week. When he returned he said he had been to town to attend a +great sale of books, which was perfectly true; he did not add that the +learned expert he employed in London could have done the business for him +just as well. But the trip had done him no good, for he grew more silent +than ever, and Mrs. Goddard even thought his brown face looked a shade +paler; but that might have been the effect of the winter weather. +Ordinary sunburn she reflected, as she looked at her own white skin in +the mirror, will generally wear off in six months, though freckles will +not. + +If Mr. Juxon was not in love, it would be very hard to say what Mary +Goddard felt. It was not true that time was effacing the memory of the +great sorrow she had suffered. It was there still, that memory, keen and +sharp as ever; it would never go away again so long as she lived. But she +had been soothed by the quiet life in Billingsfield; the evidences of the +past had been removed far from her, she had found in the Reverend +Augustin Ambrose one of those rare and manly natures who can keep a +secret for ever without ever referring to its existence even with the +person who has confided it. For a few days she had hesitated whether to +ask the vicar's advice about Mr. Juxon or not. She had thought it her +duty to allow Mr. Ambrose to tell the squire whatever he thought fit of +her own story. But she had changed her mind, and the squire had remained +in ignorance. It was best so, she thought; for now, after more than six +months, Mr. Juxon had taken the position of a friend towards her, and, as +she thought, showed no disposition whatever to overstep the boundaries of +friendship. The regularity of his visits and the sameness of the +conversation seemed of themselves a guarantee of his simple goodwill. It +did not strike her as possible that if he were going to fall in love with +her at all, that catastrophe should be postponed beyond six months from +their first acquaintance. Nor did it seem extraordinary to her that she +should actually look forward to those visits, and take pleasure in that +monotonous intercourse. Her life was very quiet; it was natural that she +should take whatever diversion came in her way, and should even be +thankful for it. Mr. Juxon was an honest gentleman, a scholar and a man +who had seen the world. If what he said was not always very original it +was always very true, a merit not always conceded to the highest +originality. He spoke intelligently; he told her the news; he lent her +the newest books and reviews, and offered her his opinions upon them, +with the regularity of a daily paper. In such a place, where +communications with the outer world seemed as difficult as at the +antipodes, and where the remainder of society was limited to the +household of the vicarage, what wonder was it if she found Mr. Juxon an +agreeable companion, and believed the companionship harmless? + +But far down in the involutions of her feminine consciousness there was +present a perpetual curiosity in regard to the squire, a curiosity she +never expected to satisfy, but was wholly unable to repress. Under the +influence of this feeling she made remarks from time to time of an +apparently harmless nature, but which in the squire promoted that strange +inclination to talk about himself, which he had lately observed and which +caused him so much alarm. He said to himself that he had nothing to be +concealed, and that if any one had asked him direct questions concerning +his past he would have answered them boldly enough. But he knew himself +to be so singularly averse to dwelling on his own affairs that he +wondered why he should now be impelled to break through so good a rule. +Indeed he had not the insight to perceive that Mrs. Goddard lost no +opportunity of leading him to the subject of his various adventures, and, +if he had suspected it, he would have been very much surprised. + +Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were far from guessing what an intimacy had sprung +up between the two. Both the cottage and the Hall lay at a considerable +distance from the vicarage, and though Mrs. Ambrose occasionally went to +see Mrs. Goddard at irregular hours in the morning and afternoon, it was +remarkable that the squire never called when she was there. Once Mrs. +Ambrose arrived during one of his visits, but thought it natural enough +that Mr. Juxon should drop in to see his tenant. Indeed when she called +the two were talking about the garden--as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +John Short had almost finished his hard work at college. For two years +and a half he had laboured on acquiring for himself reputation and a +certain amount of more solid advantage in the shape of scholarships. +Never in that time had he left Cambridge even for a day unless compelled +to do so by the regulations of his college. His father had found it hard +to induce him to come up to town; and, being in somewhat easier +circumstances since John had declared that he needed no further help to +complete his education, he had himself gone to see his son more than +once. But John had never been to Billingsfield and he knew nothing of the +changes that had taken place there. At last, however, Short felt that he +must have some rest before he went up for honours; he had grown thin and +even pale; his head ached perpetually, and his eyes no longer seemed so +good as they had been. He went to a doctor, and the doctor told him that +with his admirable constitution a few days of absolute rest would do all +that was necessary. John wrote to Mr. Ambrose to say that he would at +last accept the invitation so often extended and would spend the week +between Christmas and New Year's day at Billingsfield. + +There were great rejoicings at the vicarage. John had never been +forgotten for a day since he had left, each successive step in his career +had been hailed with hearty delight, and now that at last he was coming +back to rest himself for a week before the final effort Mrs. Ambrose was +as enthusiastic as her husband. Even Mrs. Goddard, who was not quite sure +whether she had ever seen John or not, and the squire who had certainly +never seen him, joined in the general excitement. Mrs. Goddard asked the +entire party to tea at the cottage and the squire asked them to come and +skate at the Hall and to dine afterwards; for the weather was cold and +the vicar said John was a very good skater. Was there anything John could +not do? There was nothing he could not do much better than anybody else, +answered Mr. Ambrose; and the good clergyman's pride in his pupil was +perhaps not the less because he had at first received him on charitable +considerations, and felt that if he had risked much in being so generous +he had also been amply rewarded by the brilliant success of his +undertaking. + +When John arrived, everybody said he was "so much improved." He had got +his growth now, being close upon one and twenty years of age; his blue +eyes were deeper set; his downy whiskers had disappeared and a small +moustache shaded his upper lip; he looked more intellectual but not less +strong, though Mrs. Ambrose said he was dreadfully pale--perhaps he owed +some of the improvement observed in his appearance to the clothes he +wore. Poor boy, he had been but scantily supplied in the old days; he +looked prosperous, now, by comparison. + +"We have had great additions to our society, since you left us," said the +vicar. "We have got a squire at the Hall, and a lady with a little girl +at the cottage." + +"Such a nice little girl," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. + +When John found out that the lady at the cottage was no other than the +lady in black to whom he had lost his heart two years and a half before, +he was considerably surprised. It would be absurd to suppose that the +boyish fancy which had made so much romance in his life for so many +months could outlast the excitements of the University. It would be +absurd to dignify such a fancy by any serious name. He had grown to be a +man since those days and he had put away childish things. He blushed to +remember that he had spent hours in writing odes to the beautiful +unknown, and whole nights in dreaming of her face. And yet he could +remember that as much as a year after he had left Billingsfield he still +thought of her as his highest ideal of woman, and still occasionally +composed a few verses to her memory, regretting, perhaps, the cooling of +his poetic ardour. Then he had gradually lost sight of her in the hard +work which made up his life. Profound study had made him more prosaic and +he believed that he had done with ideals for ever, after the manner of +many clever young fellows who at one and twenty feel that they are +separated from the follies of eighteen by a great and impassable gulf. +The gulf, however, was not in John's case so wide nor so deep but what, +at the prospect of being suddenly brought face to face, and made +acquainted, with her who for so long had seemed the object of a romantic +passion, he felt a strange thrill of surprise and embarrassment. Those +meetings of later years generally bring painful disillusion. How many of +us can remember some fair-haired little girl who in our childhood +represented to us the very incarnation of feminine grace and beauty, for +whom we fetched and carried, for whom we bound nosegays on the heath and +stole apples from the orchard and climbed upon the table after desert, if +we were left alone in the dining-room, to lay hands on some beautiful +sweetmeat wrapped in tinsel and fringes of pink paper--have we not met +her again in after-life, a grown woman, very, very far from our ideal of +feminine grace and beauty? And still in spite of changes in herself and +ourselves there has clung to her memory through all those years enough of +romance to make our heart beat a little faster at the prospect of +suddenly meeting her, enough to make us wonder a little regretfully if +she was at all like the little golden-haired child we loved long ago. + +But with John the feeling was stronger than that. It was but two years +and a half since he had seen Mrs. Goddard, and, not even knowing her +name, had erected for her a pedestal in his boyish heart. There was +moreover about her a mystery still unsolved. There was something odd and +strange in her one visit to the vicarage, in the fact that the vicar had +never referred to that visit and, lastly, it seemed unlike Mr. Ambrose to +have said nothing of her settlement in Billingsfield in the course of all +the letters he had written to John since the latter had left him. John +dwelt upon the name--Goddard--but it held no association for him. It was +not at all like the names he had given her in his imagination. He +wondered what she would be like and he felt nervously anxious to meet +her. Somehow, too, what he heard of the squire did not please him; he +felt an immediate antagonism to Mr. Juxon, to his books, to his amateur +scholarship, even to his appearance as described by Mrs. Ambrose, who +said he was such a thorough Englishman and wondered how he kept his hair +so smooth. + +It was not long before he had an opportunity of judging for himself of +what Mr. Ambrose called the recent addition to Billingsfield society. On +the very afternoon of his arrival the vicar proposed to walk up to the +Hall and have a look at the library, and John readily assented. It was +Christmas Eve and the weather, even in Essex, was sharp and frosty. The +muddy road was frozen hard and the afternoon sun, slanting through the +oak trees that bordered the road beyond the village, made no perceptible +impression on the cold. The two men walked briskly in the direction of +the park gate. Before they had quite reached it however, the door of the +cottage opposite was opened, and Stamboul, the Russian bloodhound, +bounded down the path, cleared the wicket gate in his vast stride, and +then turning suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to wait for his +master. But the dog instantly caught sight of the vicar, with whom he was +on very good terms, and trotted slowly up to him, thrusting his great +nose into his hand, and then proceeding to make acquaintance with John. +He seemed to approve of the stranger, for he gave a short sniff of +satisfaction and trotted back to the wicket of the cottage. At this +moment Mrs. Goddard and Nellie came out, followed by the squire arrayed +in his inevitable green stockings. There was however no rose in his coat. +Whether the greenhouses at the Hall had failed to produce any in the +bitter weather, or whether Mr. Juxon had transferred the rose from his +coat to the possession of Mrs. Goddard, is uncertain. The three came out +into the road where the vicar and John stood still to meet them. + +"Mrs. Goddard," said the clergyman, "this is Mr. Short, of whom you have +heard--John, let me introduce you to Mr. Juxon." + +John felt that he blushed violently as he took Mrs. Goddard's hand. He +would not have believed that he could feel so much embarrassed, and he +hated himself for betraying it. But nobody noticed his colour. The +weather was bright and cold, and even Mrs. Goddard's pale and delicate +skin had a rosy tinge. + +"We were just going for a walk," she explained. + +"And we were going to see you at the Hall," said the vicar to Mr. Juxon. + +"Let us do both," said the latter. "Let us walk to the Hall and have +a cup of tea. We can look at the ice and see whether it will bear +to-morrow." + +Everybody agreed to the proposal, and it so fell out that the squire and +the vicar went before while John and Mrs. Goddard followed and Nellie +walked between them, holding Stamboul by the collar, and talking to him +as she went. John looked at his companion, and saw with a strange +satisfaction that his first impression, the impression he had cherished +so long, had not been a mistaken one. Her deep violet eyes were still +sad, beautiful and dreamy. Her small nose was full of expression, and was +not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be. Her rich brown hair +waved across her forehead as it did on that day when John first saw her; +and now as he spoke with her, her mouth smiled, as he had been sure it +would. John felt a curious sense of pride in her, in finding that he had +not been deceived, that this ideal of whom he had dreamed was really and +truly very good to look at. He knew little of the artist's rules of +beauty; he had often looked with wonder at the faces in the illustrations +to Dr. Smith's classical dictionary, and had tried to understand where +the beauty of them lay, and at Cambridge he had seen and studied with +interest many photographs and casts from the antiques. But to his mind +the antique would not bear comparison for a moment with Mrs. Goddard, who +resembled no engraving nor photograph nor cast he had ever seen. + +And she, too, looked at him, and said to herself that he did not look +like what she had expected. He looked like a lean, fresh young Englishman +of moderate intelligence and in moderate circumstances. And yet she knew +that he was no ordinary young fellow, that he was wonderfully gifted, in +fact, and likely to make a mark in the world. She resolved to take a +proper interest in him. + +"Do you know," she said, "I have heard so much about you, that I feel as +though I had met you before, Mr. Short." + +"We really have met," said John. "Do you remember that hot day when you +came to the vicarage and I waked up Muggins for you?" + +"Yes--was that you? You have changed. That is, I suppose I did not see +you very well in the hurry." + +"I suppose I have changed in two years and a half. I was only a boy then, +you know. But how have you heard so much about me?" + +"Billingsfield," said Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, "is not a large +place. The Ambroses are very fond of you and always talk of what you are +doing." + +"And so you really live here, Mrs. Goddard? How long is it since you +came? Mr. Ambrose never told me--" + +"I have been here more than two years--two years last October," she +answered quietly. + +"The very year I left--only a month after I was gone. How strange!" + +Mrs. Goddard looked up nervously. She was frightened lest John should +have made any deductions from the date of her arrival. But John was +thinking in a very different train of thought. + +"Why is it strange?" she asked. + +"Oh, I hardly know," said John in considerable embarrassment. "I was only +thinking--about you--that is, about it all." + +The answer did not tend to quiet Mrs. Goddard's apprehensions. + +"About me?" she exclaimed. "Why should you think about me?" + +"It was very foolish, of course," said John. "Only, when I caught sight +of you that day I was very much struck. You know, I was only a boy, then. +I hoped you would come back--but you did not." He blushed violently, and +then glanced at his companion to see whether she had noticed it. + +"No," she said, "I did not come back for some time." + +"And then I was gone. Mr. Ambrose never told me you had come." + +"Why should he?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I think he might. You see Billingsfield has been a +sort of home to me, and it is a small place; so I thought he might have +told me the news." + +"I suppose he thought it would not interest you," said Mrs. Goddard. "I +am sure I do not know why it should. But you must be very fond of the +place, are you not?" + +"Very. As I was saying, it is very like home to me. My father lives in +town you know--that is not at all like home. One always associates the +idea of home with the country, and a vicarage and a Hall, and all that." + +"Does one?" said Mrs. Goddard, picking her way over the frozen mud of the +road. "Take care, Nellie, it is dreadfully slippery!" + +"How much she has grown," remarked John, looking at the girl's active +figure as she walked before them. "She was quite a little girl when I saw +her first." + +"Yes, she grows very fast," answered Mrs. Goddard rather regretfully. + +"You say that as though you were sorry." + +"I? No. I am glad to see her grow. What a funny remark." + +"I thought you spoke sadly," explained John. + +"Oh, dear no. Only she is coming to the awkward age." + +"She is coming to it very gracefully," said John, who wanted to say +something pleasant. + +"That is the most any of us can hope to do," answered Mrs. Goddard with a +little smile. "We all have our awkward age, I suppose." + +"I should not think you could remember yours." + +"Why? Do you think it was so very long ago?" Mrs. Goddard laughed. + +"No--I cannot believe you ever had any," said John. + +The boyish compliment pleased Mrs. Goddard. It was long since any one had +flattered her, for flattery did not enter into the squire's system for +making himself agreeable. + +"Do they teach that sort of thing at Cambridge?" she asked demurely. + +"What sort of thing?" + +"Making little speeches to ladies," said she. + +"No--I wish they did," said John, laughing. "I should know much better +how to make them. We learn how to write Greek odes to moral +abstractions." + +"What a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. + +"Do you think so? I do not know. Now, for instance, I have written a +great many Greek odes to you--" + +"To me?" interrupted his companion in surprise. + +"Do you think it is so very extraordinary?" + +"Very." + +"Well--you see--I only saw you once--you won't laugh?" + +"No," said Mrs. Goddard, who was very much amused, and was beginning to +think that John Short was the most original young man she had ever met. + +"I only saw you once, when you came to the vicarage, and I had not the +least idea what your name was. But I--I hoped you would come back; and so +I used to write poems to you. They were very good, too," added John in a +meditative tone, "I have never written any nearly so good as they were." + +"Really?" Mrs. Goddard looked at him rather incredulously and then +laughed. + +"You said you would not laugh," objected John. + +"I cannot help it in the least," said she. "It seems so funny." + +"It did not seem funny to me, I can assure you," replied John rather +warmly. "I thought it very serious." + +"You don't do it now, do you?" asked Mrs. Goddard, looking up at him +quietly. + +"Oh no--a man's ideals change so much, you know," answered John, who felt +he had been foolishly betrayed into telling his story, and hated to be +laughed at. + +"I am very glad of that. How long are you going to stay here, Mr. Short?" + +"Until New Year's Day, I think," he answered. "Perhaps you will have time +to forget about the poetry before I go." + +"I don't know why," said Mrs. Goddard, noticing his hurt tone. "I +think it was very pretty--I mean the way you did it. You must be a born +poet--to write verses to a person you did not know and had only seen +once!" + +"It is much easier than writing verses to moral abstractions one has +never seen at all," explained John, who was easily pacified. "When a man +writes a great deal he feels the necessity of attaching all those +beautiful moral qualities to some real, living person whom he can see--" + +"Even if he only sees her once," remarked Mrs. Goddard demurely. + +"Yes, even if he only sees her once. You have no idea how hard it is to +concentrate one's faculties upon a mere idea; but the moment a man sees a +woman whom he can endow with all sorts of beautiful qualities--why it's +just as easy as hunting." + +"I am glad to have been of so much service to you, even +unconsciously--but, don't you think perhaps Mrs. Ambrose would have done +as well?" + +"Mrs. Ambrose?" repeated John. Then he broke into a hearty laugh. "No--I +have no hesitation in saying that she would not have done as well. I am +deeply indebted to Mrs. Ambrose for a thousand kindnesses, for a great +deal more than I can tell--but, on the whole, I say, no; I could not have +written odes to Mrs. Ambrose." + +"No, I suppose not. Besides, fancy the vicar's state of mind! She would +have had to call him in to translate your poetry." + +"It is very singular," said John in a tone of reflection. "But, if I had +not done all that, we should not be talking as we are now, after ten +minutes acquaintance." + +"Probably not," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"No--certainly not. By the bye, there is the Hall. I suppose you have +often been there since Mr. Juxon came--what kind of man is he?" + +"He has been a great traveller," answered his companion. "And then--well, +he is a scholar and has an immense library--" + +"And an immense dog--yes, but I mean, what kind of man is he himself?" + +"He is very agreeable," said Mrs. Goddard quietly. "Very well bred, very +well educated. We find him a great addition in Billingsfield." + +"I should think so, if he is all you say," said John discontentedly. His +antagonism against Mr. Juxon was rapidly increasing. Mrs. Goddard looked +at him in some surprise, being very far from understanding his tone. + +"I think you will like him," she said. "He knows all about you from the +Ambroses, and he always speaks of you with the greatest admiration." + +"Really? It is awfully kind of him, I am sure. I am very much obliged," +said John rather contemptuously. + +"Why do you speak like that?" asked Mrs. Goddard gravely. "You cannot +possibly have any cause for disliking him. Besides, he is a friend of +ours--" + +"Oh, of course, then it is different," said John. "If he is a friend of +yours--" + +"Do you generally take violent dislikes to people at first sight, Mr. +Short?" + +"Oh, dear no. Not at all--at least, not dislikes. I suppose Mr. Juxon's +face reminds me of somebody I do not like. I will behave like an angel. +Here we are." + +The effect of this conversation upon the two persons between whom it took +place was exceedingly different. Mrs. Goddard was amused, without being +altogether pleased. She had made the acquaintance of a refreshingly young +scholar whom she understood to be full of genius. He was enthusiastic, +simple, seemingly incapable of concealing anything that passed through +his mind, unreasonable and evidently very susceptible. On the whole, she +thought she should like him, though his scornful manner in speaking of +the squire had annoyed her. The interest she could feel in him, if she +felt any at all, would be akin to that of the vicar in the boy. He was +only a boy; brilliantly talented, they said, but still a mere boy. She +was fully ten years older than he--she might almost be his mother--well, +not quite that, but very nearly. It was amusing to think of his writing +odes to her. She wished she could see translations of them, and she +almost made up her mind to ask him to show them to her. + +John on the other hand experienced a curious sensation. He had never +before been in the society of so charming a woman. He looked at her and +looked again, and came to the conclusion that she was not only charming +but beautiful. He had not the least idea of her age; it is not the manner +of his kind to think much about the age of a woman, provided she is not +too young. The girl might be ten. Mrs. Goddard might have married at +sixteen--twenty-six, twenty-seven--what was that? John called himself +twenty-two. Five years was simply no difference at all! Besides, who +cared for age? + +He had suddenly found himself almost on a footing of intimacy with this +lovely creature. His odes had served him well; it had pleased her to hear +the story. She had laughed a little, of course; but women, as John knew, +always laugh when they are pleased. He would like to show her his odes. +As he walked through the park by her side he felt a curious sense of +possession in her which gave him a thrill of exquisite delight; and when +they entered the Hall he felt as though he were resigning her to the +squire, which gave him a corresponding sense of annoyance. When an +Englishman experiences these sensations, he is in love. John resolved +that whatever happened he would walk back with Mrs. Goddard. + +"Come in," said the squire cheerily. "We are not so cold as we used to be +up here." + +A great fire of logs was burning upon the hearth in the Hall. Stamboul +stalked up to the open chimney, scratched the tiger's skin which served +for a rug, and threw himself down as though his day's work were done. +Mr. Juxon went up to Mrs. Goddard. + +"I think you had better take off your coat," he said. "The house is very +warm." + +Mrs. Goddard allowed the squire to help her in removing the heavy black +jacket lined and trimmed with fur, which she wore. John eyed the +proceeding uneasily and kept on his greatcoat. + +"Thank you--I don't mind the heat," he said shortly when the squire +suggested to him that he might be too warm. John was in a fit of +contrariety. Mrs. Goddard glanced at him, as he spoke, and he thought he +detected a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, which did not tend to smooth +his temper. + +"You will have some tea, Mrs. Goddard?" said Mr. Juxon, leading the way +into the library, which he regarded as the most habitable room in the +house. Mrs. Goddard walked by his side and the vicar followed, while John +and Nellie brought up the rear. + +"Is not it a beautiful place?" said Nellie, who was anxious that the +new-comer should appreciate the magnificence of the Hall. + +"Can't see very well," said John, "it is so dark." + +"Oh, but it is beautiful," insisted Miss Nellie. "And they have lots of +lamps here in the evening. Perhaps Mr. Juxon will have them lighted +before we go. He is always so kind." + +"Is he?" asked John with a show of interest. + +"Yes--he brings mamma a rose every day," said Nellie. + +"Not really?" said John, beginning to feel that he was justified in +hating the squire with all his might. + +"Yes--and books, too. Lots of them--but then, he has so many. See, this +is the library. Is not it splendid!" + +John looked about him and was surprised. The last rays of the setting sun +fell across the open lawn and through the deep windows of the great room, +illuminating the tall carved bookcases, the heavily gilt bindings, the +rich, dark Russia leather and morocco of the folios. The footsteps of the +party fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet and almost insensibly the +voices of the visitors dropped to a lower key. A fine large wood fire was +burning on the hearth, carefully covered with a metal netting lest any +spark should fly out and cause damage to the treasures accumulated in the +neighbouring shelves. + +"Pray make yourself at home, Mr. Short," said the squire, coming up to +John. "You may find something of interest here. There are some old +editions of the classics that are thought rare--some specimens of +Venetian printing, too, that you may like to look at. Mr. Ambrose can +tell you more about them than I." + +John's feeling of antagonism, and even his resentment against Mr. Juxon, +roused by Nellie's innocent remark about the roses, were not proof +against the real scholastic passion aroused by the sight of rare and +valuable books. In a few minutes he had divested himself of his greatcoat +and was examining the books with an expression of delight upon his face +which was pleasant to see. He glanced from time to time at the other +persons in the room and looked very often at Mrs. Goddard, but on the +whole he was profoundly interested in the contents of the library. Mrs. +Goddard was installed in a huge leathern easy-chair by the fire, and the +squire was handing her one after another a number of new volumes which +lay upon a small table, and which she appeared to examine with interest. +Nellie knew where to look for her favourite books of engravings and had +curled herself up in a corner absorbed in "Hyde's Royal Residences." The +vicar went to look for something he wanted to consult. + +"What do you think of our new friend?" asked Mrs. Goddard of the squire. +She spoke in a low tone and did not look up from the new book he had just +handed her. + +"He appears to have a very peculiar temper," said Mr. Juxon. "But he +looks clever." + +"What do you think he was talking about as we came through the park?" +asked Mrs. Goddard. + +"What?" + +"He was saying that he saw me once before he went to college, and--fancy +how deliciously boyish! he said he had written ever so many Greek odes to +my memory since!" Mrs. Goddard laughed a little and blushed faintly. + +"Let us hope, for the sake of his success, that you may continue to +inspire him," said the squire gravely. "I have no doubt the odes were +very good." + +"So he said. Fancy!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Mrs. Goddard did not mean to walk home with John; but on the other hand +she did not mean to walk with the squire. She revolved the matter in her +mind as she sat in the library talking in an undertone with Mr. Juxon. +She liked the great room, the air of luxury, the squire's tea and the +squire's conversation. It is worth noticing that his flow of talk was +more abundant to-day than it had been for some time; whether it was +John's presence which stimulated Mr. Juxon's imagination, or whether +Mrs. Goddard had suddenly grown more interesting since John Short's +appearance it is hard to say; it is certain that Mr. Juxon talked better +than usual. + +The afternoon, however, was far spent and the party had only come to make +a short visit. Mrs. Goddard rose from her seat. + +"Nellie, child, we must be going home," she said, calling to the little +girl who was still absorbed in the book of engravings which she had taken +to the window to catch the last of the waning light. + +John started and came forward with alacrity. The vicar looked up; Nellie +reluctantly brought her book back. + +"It is very early," objected the squire. "Really, the days have no +business to be so short." + +"It would not seem like Christmas if they were long," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"It does not seem like Christmas anyhow," remarked John, enigmatically. +No one understood his observation and no one paid any attention to it. +Whereupon John's previous feeling of annoyance returned and he went to +look for his greatcoat in the dark corner where he had laid it. + +"You must not come all the way back with us," said Mrs. Goddard as they +all went out into the hall and began to put on their warm things before +the fire. "Really--it is late. Mr. Ambrose will give me his arm." + +The squire insisted however, and Stamboul, who had had a comfortable nap +by the fire, was of the same opinion as his master and plunged wildly at +the door. + +"Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ambrose?" said Mrs. Goddard, looking +rather timidly at the vicar as they stood upon the broad steps in the +sparkling evening air. She felt that she was disappointing both the +squire and John, but she had quite made up her mind. She had her own +reasons. The vicar, good man, was unconsciously a little flattered by her +choice, as with her hand resting on the sleeve of his greatcoat he led +the way down the park. The squire and John were fain to follow together, +but Nellie took her mother's hand, and Stamboul walked behind affecting +an unusual gravity. + +"You must come again when there is more daylight," said Mr. Juxon to his +companion. + +"Thank you," said John. "You are very good." He intended to relapse into +silence, but his instinct made him ashamed of seeming rude. "You have a +magnificent library," he added presently in a rather cold tone. + +"You have been used to much better ones in Cambridge," said the squire, +modestly. + +"Do you know Cambridge well, Mr. Juxon?" + +"Very well. I am a Cambridge man, myself." + +"Indeed?" exclaimed John, immediately discovering that the squire was not +so bad as he had thought. "Indeed! I had no idea. Mr. Ambrose never told +me that." + +"I am not sure that he is aware of it," said Mr. Juxon quietly. "The +subject never happened to come up." + +"How odd!" remarked John, who could not conceive of associating with a +man for any length of time without asking at what University he had +been. + +"I don't know," answered Mr. Juxon. "There are lots of other things to +talk about." + +"Oh--of course," said John, in a tone which did not express conviction. + +Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard walked briskly in front; so +briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say, +in order to keep up with them. + +"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, as they turned a +bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and +red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just +above the fading glow. + +"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you +see the new moon!" + +Mrs. Goddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little +closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether +there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps +Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the +subject. + +"How do you like our John Short?" he asked. + +"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. Goddard. "He is so fresh and young." + +"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like +what you fancied he would be?" + +"Well no--not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always +thought he would be rather Byronic--the poetical type, if you know what +I mean." + +"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of +profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw." + +"Oh yes--I daresay," replied Mrs. Goddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure +he must be very clever." + +So they chatted quietly as they walked down the park. But the squire and +John did not make progress in their conversation, and by the time they +reached the gate they had yielded to an awkward silence. They had both +been annoyed because Mrs. Goddard had taken the vicar's arm instead of +choosing one of themselves, but the joint sense of disappointment did not +constitute a common bond of interest. Either one would have suffered +anything rather than mention Mrs. Goddard to the other in the course of +the walk. And yet Mr. Juxon might have been John's father. At the gate of +the cottage they separated. The squire said he would turn back. Mrs. +Goddard had reached her destination. John and the vicar would return to +the vicarage. John tried to linger a moment, to get a word with Mrs. +Goddard. He was so persistent that she let him follow her through the +wicket gate and then turned quickly. + +"What is it?" she asked, rather suddenly, holding out her hand to say +good-bye. + +"Oh, nothing," answered John. "That is--would you like to see one of +those--those little odes of mine?" + +"Yes, certainly, if you like," she answered frankly, and then laughed. +"Of course I would. Good-night." + +He turned and fled. The vicar was waiting for him, and eyed him rather +curiously as he came back. Mr. Juxon was standing in the middle of the +road, making Stamboul jump over his stick, backwards and forwards. + +"Good-night," he said, pausing in his occupation. The vicar and John +turned away and walked homewards. Before they turned the corner towards +the village John instinctively looked back. Mr. Juxon was still making +Stamboul jump the stick before the cottage, but as far as he could see in +the dusk, Mrs. Goddard and Nellie had disappeared within. John felt that +he was very unhappy. + +"Mr. Ambrose," he began. Then he stopped and hesitated. "Mr. Ambrose," he +continued at last, "you never told me half the news of Billingsfield in +your letters." + +"You mean about Mrs. Goddard? Well--no--I did not think it would interest +you very much." + +"She is a very interesting person," said John. He could have added that +if he had known she was in Billingsfield he would have made a great +sacrifice in order to come down for a day to make her acquaintance. But +he did not say it. + +"She is a great addition," said the vicar. + +"Oh--very great, I should think." + +Christmas eve was passed at the vicarage in preparation for the morrow. +Mrs. Ambrose was very active in binding holly wherever it was possible to +put it. The mince-pies were tasted and pronounced a success, and old +Reynolds was despatched to the cottage with a small basket containing a +certain number of them as a present to Mrs. Goddard. An emissary appeared +from the Hall with a variety of articles which the squire begged to +contribute towards the vicar's Christmas dinner; among others a haunch of +venison which Mrs. Ambrose pronounced to be in the best condition. The +vicar retorted by sending to the Hall a magnificent Cottenham cheese +which, as a former Fellow of Trinity, he had succeeded in obtaining. +Moreover Mr. Ambrose himself descended to the cellar and brought up +several bottles of Audit ale which he declared must be allowed to stand +some time in the pantry in order to bring out the flavour and to be +thoroughly settled. John gave his assistance wherever it was needed and +enjoyed vastly the old-fashioned preparations for Christmas day. It was +long since the season had brought him such rejoicing and he intended to +rejoice with a good will towards men and especially towards the Ambroses. +After dinner the whole party, consisting of three highly efficient +persons and old Reynolds, adjourned to the church to complete the +decorations for the morrow. + +The church of Billingsfield, known as St. Mary's, was quite large enough +to contain twice the entire population of the parish. It was built upon a +part of the foundations of an ancient abbey, and the vicar was very proud +of the monument of a crusading Earl of Oxford which he had caused to be +placed in the chancel, it having been discovered in the old chancel of +the abbey in the park, far beyond the present limits of the church. The +tower was the highest in the neighbourhood. The whole building was of +gray rubble, irregular stones set together with a crumbling cement, and +presented an appearance which, if not architecturally imposing, was at +least sufficiently venerable. At the present time the aisles were full of +heaped-up holly and wreaths; a few lamps and a considerable number of +tallow candles shed a rather feeble light amongst the pillars; a crowd of +school children, not yet washed for the morrow, were busy under the +directions of the schoolmistress in decorating the chancel; Mr. Thomas +Reid the conservative sexton was at the top of a tall ladder, presumably +using doubtful language to himself as every third nail he tried to drive +into the crevices of the stone "crooked hisself and larfed at him," as he +expressed it; the organ was playing and a dozen small boys with three or +four men were industriously practising the anthem "Arise, Shine," +producing strains which if not calculated altogether to elevate the heart +by their harmony, would certainly have caused the hair of a sensitive +musician to rise on end; three or four of the oldest inhabitants were +leaning on their sticks in the neighbourhood of the great stove in the +middle aisle, warming themselves and grumbling that "times warn't as they +used to be;" Mr. Abraham Boosey was noisily declaring that he had +"cartlods more o' thim greens" to come, and Muggins, who had had some +beer, was stumbling cheerfully against the pews in his efforts to bring a +huge load of fir branches to the foot of Mr. Thomas Reid's long ladder. +It was a thorough Christmas scene and John Short's heart warmed as he +came back suddenly to the things which for three years had been so +familiar to him and which he had so much missed in his solitude at +Cambridge. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose set to work and John followed their +example. Even the prickly holly leaves were pleasant to touch and there +was a homely joy in the fir branches dripping with half melted snow. + +Before they had been at work very long, John was aware of a little +figure, muffled in furs and standing beside him. He looked up and saw +little Nellie's lovely face and long brown curls. + +"Can't I help you, Mr. Short?" she asked timidly. "I like to help, and +they won't let me." + +"Who are 'they'?" asked John kindly, but looking about for the figure of +Nellie's mother. + +"The schoolmistress and Mrs. Ambrose. They said I should dirty my frock." + +"Well," said John, doubtfully, "I don't know. Perhaps you would. But you +might hold the string for me--that won't hurt your clothes, you know." + +"There are more greens this year," remarked Nellie, sitting down upon the +end of the choir bench where John was at work and taking the ball of +string in her hand. "Mr. Juxon has sent a lot from the park." + +"He seems to be always sending things," said John, who had no reason +whatever for saying so, except that the squire had sent a hamper to the +vicarage. "Did he stay long before dinner?" he added, in the tone people +adopt when they hope to make children talk. + +"Stay long where?" asked Nellie innocently. + +"Oh, I thought he went into your house after we left you," answered John. + +"Oh no--he did not come in," said Nellie. John continued to work in +silence. At some distance from where he was, Mrs. Goddard was talking to +Mrs. Ambrose. He could see her graceful figure, but he could hardly +distinguish her features in the gloom of the dimly-lighted church. He +longed to leave Nellie and to go and speak to her, but an undefined +feeling of hurt pride prevented him. He would not forgive her for having +taken the vicar's arm in coming home through the park; so he stayed where +he was, pricking his fingers with the holly and rather impatiently +pulling the string off the ball which Nellie held. If Mrs. Goddard wanted +to speak to him, she might come of her own accord, he thought, for he +felt that he had behaved foolishly in asking if she wished to see his +odes. Somehow, when he thought about it, the odes did not seem so good +now as they had seemed that afternoon. + +Mrs. Goddard had not seen him at first, and for some time she remained in +consultation with Mrs. Ambrose. At last she turned and looking for Nellie +saw that she was seated beside John; to his great delight she came +towards him. She looked more lovely than ever, he thought; the dark fur +about her throat set off her delicate, sad face like a frame. + +"Oh--are you here, too, Mr. Short?" she said. + +"Hard at work, as you see," answered John. "Are you going to help, Mrs. +Goddard? Won't you help me?" + +"I wanted to," said Nellie, appealing to her mother, "but they would not +let me, so I can only hold the string." + +"Well, dear--we will see if we can help Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard +good-naturedly, and she sat down upon the choir bench. + +John never forgot that delightful Christmas Eve. For nearly two hours he +never left Mrs. Goddard's side, asking her advice about every branch and +bit of holly and following out to the letter her most minute suggestions. +He forgot all about the squire and about the walk back from the park, in +the delight of having Mrs. Goddard to himself. He pushed the school +children about and spoke roughly to old Reynolds if her commands were not +instantly executed; he felt in the little crowd of village people that he +was her natural protector, and he wished he might never have anything in +the world to do save to decorate a church in her company. He grew more +and more confidential and when the work was all done he felt that he had +thoroughly established himself in her good graces and went home to dream +of the happiest day he had ever spent. The organ ceased playing, the +little choir dispersed, the school children were sent home, Mr. Abraham +Boosey retired to the bar of the Duke's Head, Muggins tenderly embraced +every tombstone he met on his way through the churchyard, the +"gentlefolk" followed Reynolds' lantern towards the vicarage, and Mr. +Thomas Reid, the conservative and melancholic sexton, put out the lights +and locked the church doors, muttering a sour laudation of more primitive +times, when "the gentlefolk minded their business." + +For the second time that day, John and Mr. Ambrose walked as far as the +cottage, to see Mrs. Goddard to her home. When they parted from her and +Nellie, John was careful not to say anything more about the odes, a +subject to which Mrs. Goddard had not referred in the course of the +evening. John thanked her rather effusively for her help--he could never +have got through those choir benches without her, he said; and the vicar +added that he was very much obliged, too, and surreptitiously conveyed +to Mrs. Goddard's hand a small package intended for Miss Nellie's +Christmas stocking, from him and his wife, and which he had forgotten to +give earlier. Nellie was destined to have a fuller stocking than usual +this year, for the squire had remembered her as well as Mr. Ambrose. + +John went to bed in his old room at the vicarage protesting that he had +enjoyed the first day of his holiday immensely. As he blew out the light, +he thought suddenly how often in that very room he had gone to bed +dreaming about the lady in black and composing verses to her, till +somehow the Greek terminations would get mixed up with the Latin roots, +the quantities all seemed to change places, and he used to fall asleep +with a delicious half romantic sense of happiness always unfulfilled yet +always present. And now at last it began to be fulfilled in earnest; he +had met the lady in black at last, had spent nearly half a day in her +company and was more persuaded than ever that she was really and truly +his ideal. He did not go to sleep so soon as in the old days, and he was +sorry to go to sleep at all; he wanted to enjoy all his delicious +recollections of that afternoon before he slept and, as he recapitulated +the events which had befallen him and recalled each expression of the +face that had charmed him and every intonation of the charmer's voice, he +felt that he had never been really happy before, that no amount of +success at Cambridge could give him half the delight he had +experienced during one hour in the old Billingsfield church, and that +altogether life anywhere else was not worth living. To-morrow he would +see Mrs. Goddard again, and the next day and the day after that and +then--"bother the future!" ejaculated John, and went to sleep. + +He awoke early, roused by the loud clanging of the Christmas bells, and +looking out he saw that the day was fine and cold and bright as Christmas +day should be, and generally is. The hoar frost was frozen into fantastic +shapes upon his little window, the snow was clinging to the yew branches +outside and the robins were hopping and chirping over the thin crust of +frozen snow that just covered the ground. The road was hard and brown as +on the previous day, and the ice in the park would probably bear. Perhaps +Mrs. Goddard would skate in the afternoon between the services, but +then--Juxon would be there. "Never mind Juxon," quoth John to himself, +"it is Christmas day!" + +At the vicarage and elsewhere, all over the land, those things were done +which delight the heart of Englishmen at the merry season. Everybody +shook hands with everybody else, everybody cried "Merry Christmas!" to +his neighbour in the street, with an intonation as though he were saying +something startlingly new and brilliant which had never been said before. +Every labourer who had a new smock-frock put it on, and those who had +none had at least a bit of new red worsted comforter about their throats +and began the day by standing at their doors in the cold morning, smoking +a "ha'p'orth o' shag" in a new clay pipe, greeting each other across the +village street. Muggins, who had spent a portion of the night in +exchanging affectionate Christmas wishes with the tombstones in the +churchyard, appeared fresh and ruddy at an early hour, clad in the long +black coat and tall hat which he was accustomed to wear when he drove Mr. +Boosey's fly on great festivals. Most of the cottages in the single +street sported a bit of holly in their windows, and altogether the +appearance of Billingsfield was singularly festive and mirthful. At +precisely ten minutes to eleven the vicar and Mrs. Ambrose, accompanied +by John, issued from the vicarage and went across the road by the private +path to the church. As they entered the porch Mr. Reid, who stood +solemnly tolling the small bell, popularly nicknamed the "Ting-tang," +and of which the single rope passed down close to the south door, +vouchsafed John a sour smile of recognition. John felt as though he had +come home. Mrs. Goddard and Nellie appeared a moment afterwards and took +their seats in the pew traditionally belonging to the cottage, behind +that of the squire who was always early, and the sight of whose smoothly +brushed hair and brown beard was a constant source of satisfaction to +Mrs. Ambrose. John and Mrs. Ambrose sat on the opposite side of the +aisle, but John's eyes strayed very frequently towards Mrs. Goddard; so +frequently indeed that she noticed it and leaned far back in her seat to +avoid his glance. Whereupon John blushed and felt that the vicar, who was +reading the Second Lesson, had probably noticed his distraction. It was +hard to realise that two years and a half had passed since he had sat in +that same pew; perhaps, however, the presence of Mrs. Goddard helped him +to understand the lapse of time. But for her it would have been very +hard; for the vicar's voice sounded precisely as it used to sound; Mrs. +Ambrose had not lost her habit of removing one glove and putting it into +her prayer book as a mark while she found the hymn in the accompanying +volume; the bright decorations looked as they looked years ago above the +organ and round the chancel; from far down the church, just before the +sermon, came the old accustomed sound of small boys shuffling their +hobnailed shoes upon the stone floor and the audible guttural whisper of +the churchwarden admonishing them to "mind the stick;" the stained-glass +windows admitted the same pleasant light as of yore--all was unchanged. +But Mrs. Goddard and Nellie occupied the cottage pew, and their presence +alone was sufficient to mark to John the fact that he was now a man. + +The service was sympathetic to John Short. He liked the simplicity of it, +even the rough singing of the choir, as compared with the solemn and +magnificent musical services of Trinity College Chapel. But it seemed +very long before it was all over and he was waiting for Mrs. Goddard +outside the church door. + +There were more greetings, more "Merry Christmas" and "Many happy +returns." Mrs. Goddard looked more charming than ever and was quite as +cordial as on the previous evening. + +"How much better it all looked this morning by daylight," she said. + +"I think it looked very pretty last night," answered John. "There is +nothing so delightful as Christmas decorations, is there?" + +"Perhaps you will come down next year and help us again?" suggested Mrs. +Goddard. + +"Yes--well, I might come at Easter, for that matter," answered the young +man, who after finding it impossible to visit Billingsfield during two +years and a half, now saw no difficulty whatever in the way of making two +visits in the course of six months. "Do you still decorate at Easter?" he +asked. + +"Oh yes--do you think you can come?" she said pleasantly. "I thought you +were to be very busy just then." + +"Yes, that is true," answered John. "But of course I could come, you +know, if it were necessary." + +"Hardly exactly necessary--" Mrs. Goddard laughed. + +"The doctor told me some relaxation was absolutely indispensable for my +health," said John rather sententiously. + +"You don't really look very ill--are you?" She seemed incredulous. + +"Oh no, of course not--only a little overworked sometimes." + +"In that case I have no doubt it would do you good," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"Do you really think so?" asked John, hopefully. + +"Oh--that is a matter for your doctor to decide. I cannot possibly tell," +she answered. + +"I think you would make a very good doctor, Mrs. Goddard," said John +venturing on a bolder flight. + +"Really--I never thought of trying it," she replied with a little laugh. +"Good morning, Mr. Ambrose. Nellie wants to thank you for your beautiful +present. It was really too good of you." + +The vicar came out of the vestry and joined the group in the path. Mrs. +Ambrose, who had been asking Tom Judd's wife about her baby, also came +up, and the squire, who had been presenting Mr. Reid with ten shillings +for his Christmas box and who looked singularly bereaved without the +faithful Stamboul at his heels, sauntered up and began congratulating +everybody. In the distance the last of the congregation, chiefly the old +women and cripples who could not keep up with the rest, hobbled away +through the white gate of the churchyard. + +It had been previously agreed that if the ice would bear there should be +skating in the afternoon and the squire was anxious to inform the party +that the pond was in excellent condition. + +"As black as your hat," he said cheerfully. "Stamboul and I have been +sliding all over it, so of course it would bear an ox. It did not crack +anywhere." + +"Do you skate, Mrs. Goddard?" asked John. + +"Not very well--not nearly so well as Nellie. But I am very fond of it." + +"Will you let me push you about in a chair, then? It is capital fun." + +"Very good fun for me, no doubt," answered Mrs. Goddard, laughing. + +"I would rather do it than anything else," said John in a tone of +conviction. "It is splendid exercise, pushing people about in chairs." + +"So it is," said the squire, heartily. "We will take turns, Mr. Short." +The suggestion did not meet with any enthusiastic response from John, who +wished Mr. Juxon were not able to skate. + +Poor John, he had but one idea, which consisted simply in getting Mrs. +Goddard to himself as often and as long as possible. Unfortunately this +idea did not coincide with Mr. Juxon's views. Mr. Juxon was an older, +slower and calmer man than the enthusiastic young scholar, and though +very far from obtruding his views or making any assertion of his rights, +was equally far from forgetting them. He was a man more of actions than +words. He had been in the habit of monopolising Mrs. Goddard's society +for months and he had no intention of relinquishing his claims, even for +the charitable purpose of allowing a poor student to enjoy his Christmas +holiday and bit of romance undisturbed. If John had presented himself as +a boy, it might have been different; but John emphatically considered +himself a man, and the squire was quite willing to treat him as such, +since he desired it. That is to say he would not permit him to "cut him +out" as he would have expressed it. The result of the position in which +John and Mr. Juxon soon found themselves was to be expected. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +John did not sleep so peacefully nor dream so happily that night as on +the night before. The course of true love had not run smooth that +afternoon. The squire had insisted upon having his share of the lovely +Mrs. Goddard's society and she herself had not seemed greatly disturbed +at a temporary separation from John. The latter amused her for a little +while; the former held the position of a friend whose conversation she +liked better than that of other people. John was disappointed and thought +of going back to Cambridge the next day. So strong, indeed, was his +sudden desire to leave Billingsfield without finishing his visit, that +before going to bed he had packed some of his belongings into his small +portmanteau; the tears almost stood in his eyes as he busied himself +about his room and he muttered certain formulae of self-accusation as he +collected his things, saying over and over in his heart--"What a fool I +am! Why should she care for me? What am I that she should care for me?" +etc. etc. Then he opened his window and looked at the bright stars which +shone out over the old yew tree; but it was exceedingly cold, and so he +shut it again and went to bed, feeling very uncomfortable and unhappy. + +But when he awoke in the morning he looked at his half-packed portmanteau +and laughed, and instead of saying "What a fool I am!" he said "What a +fool I was!"--which is generally and in most conditions of human affairs +a much wiser thing to say. Then he carefully took everything out of the +portmanteau again and replaced things as they had lain before in his +room, lest perchance Susan, the housemaid, should detect what had passed +through his mind on the previous evening and should tell Mrs. Ambrose. +And from all this it appears that John was exceedingly young, as indeed +he was, in spite of his being nearly one and twenty years of age. But +doubtless if men were willing to confess their disappointments and +foolish, impetuous resolutions, many would be found who have done +likewise, being in years much older than John Short. Unfortunately for +human nature most men would rather confess to positive wrong-doing than +to any such youthful follies as these, while they are young; and when +they are old they would rather be thought young and foolish than confess +the evil deeds they have actually done. + +John, however, did not moralise upon his situation. The weather was again +fine and as he dressed his spirits rose. He became magnanimous and +resolved to forget yesterday and make the most of today. He would see +Mrs. Goddard of course; perhaps he would show her a little coldness at +first, giving her to understand that she had not treated him well on the +previous afternoon; then he would interest her by his talk--he would +repeat to her one of those unlucky odes and translate it for her benefit, +making use of the freedom he would thus get in order to make her an +unlimited number of graceful compliments. Perhaps, too, he ought to pay +more attention to Nellie, if he wished to conciliate her mother. Women, +he reflected, have such strange prejudices! + +He wondered whether it would be proper for him to call upon Mrs. Goddard. +He was not quite sure about it, and he was rather ashamed of having so +little knowledge of the world; but he believed that in Billingsfield he +might run the risk. There had been talk of skating again that morning, +and so, about ten o'clock, John told Mr. Ambrose he would go for a short +walk and then join them all at the pond in the park. The project seemed +good, and he put it into execution. As he walked up the frozen road, he +industriously repeated in his mind the Greek verses he was going to +translate to Mrs. Goddard; he had no copy of them but his memory was very +good. He met half a dozen labourers, strolling about with their pipes +until it was time to go and have a pint of beer, as is their manner upon +holidays; they touched their hats to him, remembering his face well, and +he smiled happily at the rough fellows, contrasting his situation with +theirs, who from the misfortune of social prejudice were not permitted to +go and call upon Mrs. Goddard. His heart beat rather fast as he went up +to the door of the cottage, and for one unpleasant moment he again +doubted whether it was proper for him to make such an early visit. But +being bent on romantic adventure he rang boldly and inquired for Mrs. +Goddard. + +She was surprised to see John at that hour and alone; but it did not +enter her head to refuse him admittance. Indeed as he stood in the little +passage he heard the words which passed between her and Martha. + +"What is it, Martha?" + +"It's a young gentleman, mam. I rather think, mam, it's the young +gentleman that's stopping at the vicarage." + +"Oh--ask him to come in." + +"In 'ere, mam?" + +"No--into the sitting-room," said Mrs. Goddard, who was busy in the +dining-room. + +John was accordingly ushered in and told to wait a minute; which he did, +surveying with surprise the beautiful pictures, the rich looking +furniture and the valuable objects that lay about upon the tables. He +experienced a thrill of pleasure, for he felt sure that Mrs. Goddard +possessed another qualification which he had unconsciously attributed to +her--that of being accustomed to a certain kind of luxury, which in +John's mind was mysteriously connected with his romance. It is one of the +most undefinable of the many indefinite feelings to which young men in +love are subject, especially young men who have been, or are, very poor. +They like to connect ideas of wealth and comfort, even of a luxurious +existence, with the object of their affections. They desire the world of +love to be new to them, and in order to be wholly new in their +experience, it must be rich. The feeling is not so wholly unworthy as it +might seem; they instinctively place their love upon a pedestal and +require its surroundings to be of a better kind than such as they have +been accustomed to in their own lives. King Cophetua, being a king, could +afford to love the beggar maid, and a very old song sings of a "lady who +loved a swine," but the names of the poor young men who have loved above +their fortune and station are innumerable as the swallows in spring. John +saw that Mrs. Goddard was much richer than he had ever been, and without +the smallest second thought was pleased. In a few moments she entered the +room. John had his speech ready. + +"I thought, if you were going to skate, I would call and ask leave to go +with you," he said glibly, as she gave him her hand. + +"Oh--thanks. But is not it rather early?" + +"It is twenty minutes past ten," said John, looking at the clock. + +"Well, let us get warm before starting," said Mrs. Goddard, sitting down +by the fire. "It is so cold this morning." + +John thought she was lovely to look at as she sat there, warming her +hands and shielding her face from the flame with them at the same time. +She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, but said nothing. She was still +a little surprised to see him and wondered whether he himself had +anything to say. + +"Yes," said John, "it is very cold--traditional Christmas weather. Could +not be finer, in fact, could it?" + +"No--it could not be finer," echoed Mrs. Goddard, suppressing a smile. +Then as though to help him out of his embarrassment by giving an impulse +to the conversation, she added, "By the bye, Mr. Short, while we are +warming ourselves why do not you let me hear one of your odes?" + +She meant it kindly, thinking it would give him pleasure, as indeed it +did. John's heart leaped and he blushed all over his face with delight. +Mrs. Goddard was not quite sure whether she had done right, but she +attributed his evident satisfaction to his vanity as a scholar. + +"Certainly," he said with alacrity, "if you would like to hear it. Would +you care to hear me repeat the Greek first?" + +"Oh, of all things. I do not think I have ever heard Greek." + +John cleared his throat and began, glancing at his hostess rather +nervously from time to time. But his memory never failed him, and he went +on to the end without a break or hesitation. + +"How do you think it sounds?" he asked timidly when he had finished. + +"It sounds very funny," said Mrs. Goddard. "I had no idea Greek sounded +like that--but it has a pleasant rhythm." + +"That is the thing," said John, enthusiastically. "I see you really +appreciate it. Of course nobody knows how the ancients pronounced Greek, +and if one pronounced it as the moderns do, it would sound all wrong--but +the rhythm is the thing, you know. It is impossible to get over that." + +Mrs. Goddard was not positively sure what he meant by "getting over the +rhythm;" possibly John himself could not have defined his meaning very +clearly. But his cheeks glowed and he was very much pleased. + +"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Goddard confidently. "But what does it all +mean, Mr. Short?" + +"Would you really like to know?" asked John in fresh embarrassment. He +suddenly realised how wonderfully delightful it was to be repeating his +own poetry to the woman for whom it was written. + +"Indeed yes--what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in +Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?" + +"Yes--you will promise not to be offended?" + +"Of course," said Mrs. Goddard; then blushing a little she added, "it is +quite--I mean--quite the sort of thing, is not it?" + +"Oh quite," said John, blushing too, but looking grave for a moment. Then +he repeated the English translation of the verses which, as they were +certainly not so good as the original, may be omitted here. They set +forth that in the vault of the world's night a new star had appeared +which men had not yet named, nor would be likely to name until the power +of human speech should be considerably increased, and the verses dwelt +upon the theme, turning it and revolving it in several ways, finally +declaring that the far-darting sun must look out for his interests unless +he meant to be outshone by the new star. Translated into English there +was nothing very remarkable about the performance though the original +Greek ode was undoubtedly very good of its kind. But Mrs. Goddard was +determined to be pleased. + +"I think it is charming," she said, when John had reached the end and +paused for her criticism. + +"The Greek is very much better," said John doubtfully. "I cannot write +English verses--they seem to me so much harder." + +"I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard. "But did you really write that +when--" she stopped not knowing exactly how to express herself. But +John had his answer ready. + +"Oh, I wrote ever so many," he said, "and I have got them all at +Cambridge. But that is the only one I quite remember. I wrote them just +after the day when I waked up Muggins--the only time I had seen you till +now. I think I could--" + +"How funny it seems," said Mrs. Goddard, "without knowing a person, to +write verses to them! How did you manage to do it?" + +"I was going to say that I think--I am quite sure--I could write much +better things to you now." + +"Oh, that is impossible--quite absurd, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, +laughing more gaily than usual. + +"Why?" asked John, somewhat emboldened by his success. "I do not see why, +if one has an ideal, you know, one should not understand it much better +when one comes near to it." + +"Yes--but--how can I possibly be your ideal?" She felt herself so much +older than John that she thought it was out of the question to be +annoyed; so she treated him in a matter of fact way, and was really +amused at his talk. + +"I don't see why not," answered John stoutly. "You might be any man's +ideal." + +"Oh, really--" ejaculated Mrs. Goddard, somewhat startled at the force of +the sweeping compliment. To be told point-blank, even by an enthusiastic +youth of one and twenty, that one is the ideal woman, must be either very +pleasant or very startling. + +"Excuse me," she said quickly, before he could answer her, "you know of +course I am very ignorant--yes I am--but will you please tell me what is +an 'ideal'?" + +"Why--yes," said John, "it is very easy. Ideal comes from idea. Plato +meant, by the idea, the perfect model--well, do you see?" + +"Not exactly," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"It is very simple. When I, when anybody, says you are the ideal woman, +it is meant that you are the perfect model, the archetype of a woman." + +"Yes--but that is absurd," said his companion rather coldly. + +"I am sorry that it should seem absurd," said John in a persuasive tone; +"it seems very natural to me. A man thinks for a long time about +everything that most attracts him and then, on a sudden, he sees it all +before him, quite real and alive, and then he says he has realised his +ideal. But you liked the verses, Mrs. Goddard?" he added quickly, hoping +to bring back the smile that had vanished from her face. He had a strong +impression that he had been a little too familiar. Probably Mrs. Goddard +thought so too. + +"Oh yes, I think they are very nice," she answered. But the smile did not +come back. She was not displeased, but she was not pleased either; she +was wondering how far this boy would go if she would let him. John, +however, felt unpleasantly doubtful about what he had done. + +"I hope you are not displeased," he said. + +"Oh, not in the least," said she. "Shall we go to the park and skate?" + +"I am not sure that I will skate to-day," said John, foolishly. Mrs. +Goddard looked at him in unfeigned surprise. + +"Why not? I thought it was for that--" + +"Oh, of course," said John quickly. "Only it is not very amusing to skate +when Mr. Juxon is pushing you about in a chair." + +"Really--why should not he push me about, if I like it?" + +"If you like it--that is different," answered John impatiently. + +Mrs. Goddard began to think that John was very like a spoiled child, and +she resented his evident wish to monopolise her society. She left the +room to get ready for the walk, vaguely wishing that he had not come. + +"I have made a fool of myself again," said John to himself, when he was +left alone; and he suddenly wished he could get out of the house without +seeing her again. But before he had done wishing, she returned. + +"Where is Miss Nellie?" he asked gloomily, as they walked down the path. +"I hope she is coming too." + +"She went up to the pond with Mr. Juxon, just before you came." + +"Do you let her go about like that, without you?" asked John severely. + +"Why not? Really, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, glancing up at his face, +"either you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a +good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--" + +She was naturally a little timid, but John's youth and what she +considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to +protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous. + +"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are +quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest +reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal +antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me." + +"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows +nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They +were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind +that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch. + +"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he +said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom. + +"Nor I," said Mrs. Goddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back +for her to pass. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there +was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it +for themselves. Mrs. Goddard was so much amused at John's absence of mind +that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was +attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that +had darkened the horizon of his romance had passed quickly away, and once +more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life. +If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his +imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. Goddard's chair upon the +ice, he mentally ejaculated "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the +previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park +was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. Goddard did not seem to be +in a hurry. + +"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently. + +"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the +year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will +very soon be alive again." + +"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of +it." + +"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not +you?" + +"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently. +Mrs. Goddard could not resist the temptation of teazing him a little. +They had grown very intimate in forty-eight hours; it had taken six +months for Mr. Juxon to reach the point John had won in two days. + +"Are they?" she asked quietly. "Is that the reason you selected me for +the 'idea' of your ode, which you explained to me?" + +"You?" said John in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Why, you are not any +older than I am!" + +"Do you think so?" she inquired with a demure smile. "I am very much +older than you think." + +"You must be--I mean, you know, you must be older than you look." + +"Thank you," said Mrs. Goddard, still smiling, and just resting the tips +of her fingers upon his arm as she stepped across a slippery place in the +frozen road. "Yes, I am a great deal older than you." + +John would have liked very much to ask her age, but even to his youthful +and unsophisticated mind such a question seemed almost too personal. He +did not really believe that she was more than five years older than he, +and that seemed to be no difference at all. + +"I don't know," he said. "I am nearly one and twenty." + +"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Goddard, who had heard every detail concerning +John from Mr. Ambrose, again and again. "Just think," she added with a +laugh, "only one and twenty! Why when I was one and twenty I was--" she +stopped short. + +"What were you doing then?" asked John, trying not to seem too curious. + +"I was living in London," she said quietly. She half enjoyed his +disappointment. + +"Yes," he said, "I daresay. But what--well, I suppose I ought not to ask +any questions." + +"Certainly not," said she. "It is very rude to ask a lady questions about +her age." + +"I do not mean to be rude again," said John, pretending to laugh. "Have +you always been fond of skating?" he asked, fixing his eye upon a distant +tree, and trying to look unconscious. + +"No--I only learned since I came here. Besides, I skate very badly." + +"Did Mr. Juxon teach you?" asked John, still gazing into the distance. +From not looking at the path he slipped on a frozen puddle and nearly +fell. Whereat, as usual, when he did anything awkward, he blushed to the +brim of his hat. + +"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. "You will fall if you don't look +where you are going. No; Mr. Juxon was not here last year. He only came +here in the summer." + +"It seems to me that he has always been here," said John, trying to +recover his equanimity. "Then I suppose Mr. Ambrose taught you to skate?" + +"Exactly--Mr. Ambrose taught me. He skates very well." + +"So will you, with a little more practice," answered her companion in a +rather patronising tone. He intended perhaps to convey the idea that Mrs. +Goddard would improve in the exercise if she would actually skate, and +with him, instead of submitting to be pushed about in a chair by Mr. +Juxon. + +"Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard indifferently. "We shall soon be +there, now. I can hear them on the ice." + +"Too soon," said John with regret. + +"I thought you liked skating so much." + +"I like walking with you much better," he replied, and he glanced at her +face to see if his speech produced any sign of sympathy. + +"You have walked with me; now you can skate with Nellie," suggested Mrs. +Goddard. + +"You talk as though I were a child," said John, suddenly losing his +temper in a very unaccountable way. + +"Because I said you might skate with Nellie? Really, I don't see why. Mr. +Juxon is not a child, and he has been skating with her all the morning." + +"That is different," retorted John growing very red. + +"Yes--Nellie is much nearer to your age than to Mr. Juxon's," answered +Mrs. Goddard, with a calmness which made John desperate. + +"Really, Mrs. Goddard," he said stiffly, "I cannot see what that has to +do with it." + +"'The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the lady so much older +than myself has charged--' How does the quotation end, Mr. Short?" + +"'Has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither +attempt to palliate nor deny,'" said John savagely. "Quite so, Mrs. +Goddard. I shall not attempt to palliate it, nor will I venture to deny +it." + +"Then why in the world are you so angry with me?" she asked, suddenly +turning her violet eyes upon him. "I was only laughing, you know." + +"Only laughing!" repeated John. "It is more pleasant to laugh than to be +laughed at." + +"Yes--would not you allow me the pleasure then, just for once?" + +"Certainly, if you desire it. You are so extremely merry--" + +"Come, Mr. Short, we must not seem to have been quarrelling when we reach +the pond. It would be too ridiculous." + +"Everything seems to strike you in a humorous light to-day," answered +John, beginning to be pacified by her tone. + +"Do you know, you are much more interesting when you are angry," said +Mrs. Goddard. + +"And you only made me angry in order to see whether I was interesting?" + +"Perhaps--but then, I could not help it in the least." + +"I trust you are thoroughly satisfied upon the point, Mrs. Goddard? If +there is anything more that I can do to facilitate your researches in +psychology--" + +"You would help me? Even to the extent of being angry again?" She smiled +so pleasantly and frankly that John's wrath vanished. + +"It is impossible to be angry with you. I am very sorry if I seemed to +be," he answered. "A man who has the good fortune to be thrown into your +society is a fool to waste his time in being disagreeable." + +"I agree with the conclusion, at all events--that is, it is much better +to be agreeable. Is it not? Let us be friends." + +"Oh, by all means," said John. + +They walked on for some minutes in silence. John reflected that he had +witnessed a phase of Mrs. Goddard's character of which he had been very +far from suspecting the existence. He had not hitherto imagined her to be +a woman of quick temper or sharp speech. His idea of her was formed +chiefly upon her appearance. Her sad face, with its pathetic expression, +suggested a melancholy humour delighting in subdued and tranquil +thoughts, inclined naturally to the romantic view, or to what in the eyes +of youths of twenty appears to be the romantic view of life. He had +suddenly found her answering him with a sharpness which, while it roused +his wits, startled his sensibilities. But he was flattered as well. His +instinct and his observation of Mrs. Goddard when in the society of +others led him to believe that with Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, or even with +Mr. Juxon, she was not in the habit of talking as she talked with him. He +was therefore inwardly pleased, so soon as his passing annoyance had +subsided, to feel that she made a difference between him and others. + +It was quite true that she made a distinction, though she did so almost +unconsciously. It was perfectly natural, too. She was young in heart, in +spite of her thirty years and her troubles; she had an elastic +temperament; to a physiognomist her face would have shown a delicate +sensitiveness to impressions rather than any inborn tendency to sadness. +In spite of everything she was still young, and for two years and a half +she had been in the society of persons much older than herself, persons +she respected and regarded as friends, but persons in whom her youth +found no sympathy. It was natural, therefore, that when time to some +extent had healed the wound she had suffered and she suddenly found +herself in the society of a young and enthusiastic man, something of the +enforced soberness of her manner should unbend, showing her character in +a new light. She herself enjoyed the change, hardly knowing why; she +enjoyed a little passage of arms with John, and it amused her more than +she could have expected to be young again, to annoy him, to break the +peace and heal it again in five minutes. But what happened entirely +failed to amuse the squire, who did not regard such diversions as +harmless; and moreover she was far from expecting the effect which her +treatment of John Short produced upon his scholarly but enthusiastic +temper. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The squire had remarked that John Short seemed to have a peculiar temper, +and Mrs. Goddard had observed the same thing. What has gone before +sufficiently explains the change in John's manner, and the difference in +his behaviour was plainly apparent even to Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose. The +vicar indeed was wise enough to see that John was very much attracted by +Mrs. Goddard, but he was also wise enough to say nothing about it. His +wife, however, who had witnessed no love-making for nearly thirty years, +except the courtship of the young physician who had married her daughter, +attributed John's demeanour to no such disturbing cause. He was +overworked, she said; he was therefore irritable; he had of course never +taken that excellent homoeopathic remedy, highly diluted aconite, since +he had left the vicarage; the consequence was that he was subject to +nervous headache--she only hoped he would not be taken ill on the eve of +the examination for honours. She hoped, too, that he would prolong his +holiday to the very last moment, for the country air and the rest he +enjoyed were sure to do him so much good. With regard, to the extension +of John's visit, the vicar thought differently, although he held his +peace. There were many reasons why John should not become attached to +Mrs. Goddard both for her sake and his own, and if he staid long, the +vicar felt quite sure that he would fall in love with her. She was +dangerously pretty, she was much older than John--which in the case of +very young men constitutes an additional probability--she evidently took +an innocent pleasure in his society, and altogether such a complication +as was likely to ensue was highly undesirable. Therefore, when Mrs. +Ambrose pressed John to stay longer than he had intended, the vicar not +only gave him no encouragement, but spoke gravely of the near approach of +the contest for honours, of the necessity of concentrating every force +for the coming struggle, and expressed at the same time the firm +conviction that, if John did his best, he ought to be the senior classic +in the year. + +Even Mrs. Goddard urged him to go. Of course he asked her advice. He +would not have lost that opportunity of making her speak of himself, nor +of gauging the exact extent of the interest he hoped she felt in him. + +It was two or three days after the long conversation he had enjoyed with +her. In that time they had met often and John's admiration for her, +strengthened by his own romantic desire to be really in love, had begun +to assume proportions which startled Mrs. Goddard and annoyed Mr. Juxon. +The latter felt that the boy was in his way; whenever he wanted to see +Mrs. Goddard, John was at her side, talking eagerly and contesting his +position against the squire with a fierceness which in an older and wiser +man would have been in the worst possible taste. Even as it was, Mr. +Juxon looked considerably annoyed as he stood by, smoothing his smooth +hair from time to time with his large white hand and feeling that even at +his age, and with his experience, a man might sometimes cut a poor +figure. + +On the particular occasion when the relations between John and the squire +became an object of comment to Mrs. Ambrose, the whole party were +assembled at Mrs. Goddard's cottage. She had invited everybody to tea, a +meal which in her little household represented a compromise between her +appetite and Nellie's. She had felt that in the small festivities of the +Billingsfield Christmas season she was called upon to do her share with +the rest and, being a simple woman, she took her part simply, and did not +dignify the entertainment of her four friends by calling it a dinner. The +occasion was none the less hospitable, for she gave both time and thought +to her preparations. Especially she had considered the question of +precedence; it was doubtful, she thought, whether the squire or the vicar +should sit upon her right hand. The squire, as being lord of the manor, +represented the powers temporal, the vicar on the other hand represented +the church, which on ordinary occasions takes precedence of the lay +faculty. She had at last privately consulted Mr. Juxon, in whom she had +the greatest confidence, asking him frankly which she should do, and Mr. +Juxon had unhesitatingly yielded the post of honour to the vicar, adding +to enforce his opinion the very plausible argument that if he, the +squire, took Mrs. Goddard in to tea, the vicar would have to give his arm +either to little Nellie or to his own wife. Mrs. Goddard was convinced +and the affair was a complete success. + +John felt that he could not complain of his position, but as he was +separated from the object of his admiration during the whole meal, he +resolved to indemnify himself for his sufferings by monopolising her +conversation during the rest of the evening. The squire on the other +hand, who had been obliged to talk to Mrs. Ambrose during most of the +time while they were at table, and who, moreover, was beginning to feel +that he had seen almost enough of John Short, determined to give the +young man a lesson in the art of interesting women in general and Mrs. +Goddard in particular. She, indeed, would not have been a woman at all +had she not understood the two men and their intentions. After tea the +party congregated round the fire in the little drawing-room, standing in +a circle, of which their hostess formed the centre. Mr. Juxon and John, +anticipating that Mrs. Goddard must ultimately sit upon one side or other +of the fireplace had at first chosen opposite sides, each hoping that she +would take the chair nearest to himself. But Mrs. Goddard remained +standing an unreasonably long time, for the very reason that she did not +choose to sit beside either of them. Seeing this the squire, who had +perhaps a greater experience than his adversary in this kind of strategic +warfare, left his place and put himself on the same side as John. He +argued that Mrs. Goddard would probably then choose the opposite side, +whereas John who was younger would think she would come towards the two +where they stood; John would consequently lose time, Mr. Juxon would +cross again and install himself by her side while his enemy was +hesitating. + +While these moves and counter-moves were proceeding, the conversation was +general. The vicar was for the hundredth time admiring the Andrea del +Sarto over the chimney-piece and his wife was explaining her general +objections to the representation of sacred subjects upon canvas, while +Mrs. Goddard answered each in turn and endeavoured to disagree with +neither. What the squire had foreseen when he made his last move, +however, actually took place at last. Mrs. Goddard established herself +upon the side opposite the two men. Mr. Juxon crossed rapidly to where +she was seated, and Mrs. Ambrose, who had turned with the intention of +speaking to the squire, found herself confronted by John. He saw that he +had been worsted by his foe and immediately lost his temper; but being +brought face to face with Mrs. Ambrose was obliged to control it as he +might. That excellent lady beamed upon him with a maternal smile of the +kind which is peculiarly irritating to young men. He struggled to get +away however, glancing over Mrs. Ambrose's shoulder at the squire and +longing to be "at him" as he would have expressed it. But the squire was +not to be got at so easily, for the vicar's wife was of a fine presence +and covered much ground. John involuntarily thought of the dyke before +Troy, of Hector and his heroes attempting to storm it and of the Ajaces +and Sarpedon defending it and glaring down from above. He could +appreciate Hector's feelings--Mrs. Ambrose was very like the dyke. + +The squire smiled serenely and smoothed his hair as he talked to Mrs. +Goddard and she herself looked by no means discontented, thereby adding, +as it were, an insult to the injury done to John. + +"I shall always envy you the cottage," the squire was saying. "I have not +a single room in the Hall that is half so cheery in the evening." + +"I shall never forget my terror when we first met," answered Mrs. +Goddard, "do you remember? You frightened me by saying you would like to +live here. I thought you meant it." + +"You must have thought I was the most unmannerly of barbarians." + +"Instead of being the best of landlords," added Mrs. Goddard with a +grateful smile. + +"I hardly know whether I am that," said Mr. Juxon, settling himself in +his chair. "But I believe I am by nature an exceedingly comfortable man, +and I never fail to consult the interests of my comfort." + +"And of mine. Think of all you have done to improve this place. I can +never thank you enough. I suppose one always feels particularly grateful +at Christmas time--does not one?" + +"One has more to be grateful for, it seems to me--in our climate, too. +People in southern countries never really know what comfort means, +because nature never makes them thoroughly uncomfortable. Only a man who +is freezing can appreciate a good fire." + +"I suppose you have been a good deal in such places," suggested Mrs. +Goddard, vaguely. + +"Oh yes--everywhere," answered the squire with equal indefiniteness. "By +the bye, talking of travelling, when is our young friend going away?" +There was not a shade of ill-humour in the question. + +"The day after New Year's--I believe." + +"He has had a very pleasant visit." + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Goddard, "I hope it will do him a great deal of +good." + +"Why? Was he ill? Ah--I remember, they said he had worked too hard. It is +a great mistake to work too hard, especially when one is very young." + +"He is very young, is not he?" remarked Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, +remembering the many conversations she had had with him. + +"Very. Did it ever strike you that--well, that he was losing his head a +little?" + +"No," answered his companion innocently. "What about?" + +"Oh, nothing. Only he has rather a peculiar temper. He is perpetually +getting very angry with no ostensible reason--and then he glares at one +like an angry cat." + +"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, "he might hear you." + +"Do him good," said the squire cheerfully. + +"Oh, no! It would hurt his feelings dreadfully. How can you be so +unkind?" + +"He is a very good boy, you know. Really, I believe he is. Only he is +inclined to be rather too unreasonable; I should think he might be +satisfied." + +"Satisfied with what?" inquired Mrs. Goddard, who did not wish to +understand. + +"With the way you have treated him," returned the squire bluntly. "You +have been wonderfully good to him." + +"Have I?" The faint colour rose to her cheek. "I don't know--poor fellow! +I daresay his life at Cambridge is very dull." + +"Yes. Entirely devoid of that species of amusement which he has enjoyed +so abundantly in Billingsfield. It is not every undergraduate who has a +chance to talk to you for a week at a time." + +Mr. Juxon made the remark very calmly, without seeming to be in the least +annoyed. He was much too wise a man to appear to be displeased at Mrs. +Goddard's treatment of John. Moreover, he felt that on the present +occasion, at least, John had been summarily worsted; it was his turn to +be magnanimous. + +"If you are going to make compliments, I will go away," said Mrs. +Goddard. + +"I? I never made a compliment in my life," replied the squire +complacently. "Do you think it is a compliment to tell you that Mr. Short +probably enjoys your conversation much more than the study of Greek +roots?" + +"Well--not exactly--" + +"Besides, in general," continued the squire, "compliments are mere waste +of breath. If a woman has any vanity she knows her own good points much +better than any man who attempts to explain them to her; and if she has +no vanity, no amount of explanation of her merits will make her see them +in a proper light." + +"That is very true," answered Mrs. Goddard, thoughtfully. "It never +struck me before. I wonder whether that is the reason women always like +men who never make any compliments at all?" + +The squire's face assumed an amusing expression of inquiry and surprise. + +"Is that personal?" he asked. + +"Oh--of course not," answered Mrs. Goddard in some confusion. She blushed +and turning towards the fire took up the poker and pretended to stir the +coals. Women always delight in knocking a good fire to pieces, out of +pure absence of mind. John Short saw the movement and, escaping suddenly +from the maternal conversation of Mrs. Ambrose, threw himself upon his +knee on the hearth-rug and tried to take the poker from his hostess's +hand. + +"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, don't! Let me do it--please!" he exclaimed. + +"But I can do it very well myself," said she protesting and not relaxing +her hold upon the poker. But John was obstinate in his determination to +save her trouble, and rudely tried to get the instrument away. + +"Please don't--you hurt me," said Mrs. Goddard petulantly. + +"Oh--I beg your pardon--I wanted to help you," said John leaving his +hold. "I did not really hurt you--did I?" he asked, almost tenderly. + +"Dreadfully," replied Mrs. Goddard, half angry and half amused at his +impatience and subsequent contrition. The squire sat complacently in his +chair, watching the little scene. John hated him more than ever, and grew +very red. Mrs. Goddard saw the boy's embarrassment and presently +relented. + +"I daresay you will do it better than I," she said, handing him the +poker, which John seized with alacrity. "That big coal--there," she +added, pointing to a smouldering block in the corner of the grate. + +"I did not mean to be rude," said John. "I only wanted to help you." He +knelt by her side poking the fire industriously. "I only wanted to get a +chance to talk to you," he added, in a low voice, barely audible to Mrs. +Goddard as she leaned forward. + +"I am afraid you cannot do that just now," she said, not unkindly, but +with the least shade of severity in her tone. "You will get dreadfully +hot if you stay there, so near the fire." + +"I don't mind the heat in the least," said John heroically. Nevertheless +as she did not give him any further encouragement he was presently +obliged to retire, greatly discomfited. He could not spend the evening on +his knees with the poker in his hand. + +"Bad failure," remarked the squire in an undertone as soon as John had +rejoined Mrs. Ambrose, who had not quite finished her lecture on +homoeopathy. + +Mrs. Goddard leaned back in her chair and looked at Mr. Juxon rather +coolly. She did not want him to laugh at John, though she was not willing +to encourage John herself. + +"You should not be unkind," she said. "He is such a nice boy--why should +you wish him to be uncomfortable?" + +"Oh, I don't in the least. I could not help being amused a little. I am +sure I don't want to be unkind." + +Indeed the squire had not shown himself to be so, on the whole, and he +did not refer to the matter again during the evening. He kept his place +for some time by Mrs. Goddard's side and then, judging that he had +sufficiently asserted his superiority, rose and talked to Mrs. Ambrose. +But John, being now in a thoroughly bad humour, could not take his vacant +seat with a good grace. He stood aloof and took up a book that lay upon +the table and avoided looking at Mrs. Goddard. By and by, when the party +broke up, he said good-night in such a particularly cold and formal tone +of voice that she stared at him in surprise. But he took no notice of her +look and went away after the Ambroses, in that state of mind which boys +call a huff. + +But on the following day John repented of his behaviour. All day long he +wandered about the garden of the vicarage, excusing himself from joining +the daily skating which formed the staple of amusement during the +Christmas week, by saying that he had an idea for a copy of verses and +must needs work it out. But he inwardly hoped that Mrs. Goddard would +come to the vicarage late in the afternoon, without the inevitable Mr. +Juxon, and that he might then get a chance of talking to her. He was not +quite sure what he should say. He would find words on the spur of the +moment; it would at all events be much easier than to meet her on the ice +at the Hall with all the rest of them and to see Mr. Juxon pushing her +about in that detestable chair, with the unruffled air of superiority +which John so hated to see upon his face. The vicar suspected more than +ever that there was something wrong; he had seen some of the by-play on +the previous evening, and had noticed John's ill-concealed disappointment +at being unable to dislodge the sturdy squire from his seat. But Mrs. +Ambrose seemed to be very obtuse, and the vicar would have been the last +to have spoken of his suspicions, even to the wife of his bosom. It was +his duty to induce John to go back to his work at the end of the week; it +was not his duty to put imputations upon him which Mrs. Ambrose would +naturally exaggerate and which would drive her excellent heart into a +terrible state of nervous anxiety. + +But Mrs. Goddard did not come back to the vicarage on that day, and John +went to dinner with a sad heart. It did not seem like a day at all if he +had not seen her and talked with her. He had now no doubt whatever that +he was seriously in love, and he set himself to consider his position. +The more he considered it, the more irreconcilable it seemed to be with +the passion which beset him. A child could see that for several years, at +least, he would not be in a position to marry. With Mr. Juxon at hand +from year's end to year's end, the owner of the Hall, of the +Billingsfield property and according to all appearances of other +resources besides,--with such a man constantly devoted to her, could Mrs. +Goddard be expected to wait for poor John three years, even two years, +from the time of the examination for the classical Tripos? Nothing was +more improbable, he was forced to admit. And yet, the idea of life if he +did not marry Mrs. Goddard was dismal beyond all expression; he would +probably not survive it. He did not know what he should do. He shrank +from the thought of declaring his love to her at once. He remembered with +pain that she had a terrible way of laughing at him when he grew +confidential or too complimentary, and he dreaded lest at the supreme +moment of his life he should appear ridiculous in her eyes--he, a mere +undergraduate. If he came out at the head of the Tripos it would be +different; and yet that seemed so long to wait, especially while Mr. +Juxon lived at the Hall and Mrs. Goddard lived at the park gates. +Suddenly a thought struck him which filled him with delight; it was just +possible that Mr. Juxon had no intention of marrying Mrs. Goddard. If he +had any such views he would probably have declared them before now, for +he had met her every day during more than half a year. John longed to ask +some one the question. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose, who might be supposed to know +everything connected with Mrs. Goddard, could tell him. He felt very +nervous at the idea of speaking to the vicar on the subject, and yet it +seemed to him that no one else could set his mind at rest. If he were +quite certain that Mr. Juxon had no intention of offering himself to the +charming tenant of the cottage, he might return to his work with some +sense of security in the future. Otherwise he saw only the desperate +alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved +her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of +hearing any day that she had married the squire. To be laughed at would +be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle, +would be awful. No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth; +it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done. Having at +last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of +dinner, his spirits rose a little. He took another glass of the vicar's +mild ale and felt that he could face his fate. + +"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr. Ambrose?" he said as they +rose from table. + +"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the +drawing-room, he returned to find John. There was a low, smouldering fire +in the study grate, and John had lit a solitary candle. The room looked +very dark and dismal and John was seated in one of the black leather +chairs, waiting. + +"Anything about those verses you were speaking of to-day?" asked the +vicar cheerfully, in anticipation of a pleasant classical chat. + +"No," said John, gloomily. "The fact is--" he cleared his throat, "the +fact is, I want to ask you rather a delicate question, sir." + +The vicar's heavy eyebrows contracted; the lines of his face all turned +downwards, and his long, clean-shaved upper lip closed sharply upon its +fellow, like a steel trap. He turned his grey eyes upon John's averted +face with a searching look. + +"Have you got into any trouble at Trinity, John?" he asked severely. + +"Oh no--no indeed," said John. Nothing was further from his thoughts than +his college at that moment. "I want to ask you a question, which no one +else can answer. Is--do you think that--that Mr. Juxon has any idea of +marrying Mrs. Goddard?" + +The vicar started in astonishment and laid both hands upon the arms of +his chair. + +"What--in the world--put that--into your head?" he asked very slowly, +emphasising every word of his question. John was prepared to see his old +tutor astonished but was rather taken aback at the vicar's tone. + +"Do you think it is likely, sir?" he insisted. + +"Certainly not," answered the vicar, still eyeing him suspiciously. +"Certainly not. I have positive reasons to prove the contrary. But, my +dear John, why, in the name of all that is sensible, do you ask me such a +question? You don't seriously think of proposing--" + +"I don't see why I should not," said John doggedly, seeing that he was +found out. + +"You don't see why you should not? Why the thing is perfectly absurd, not +to say utterly impossible! John, you are certainly mad." + +"I don't see why," repeated John. "I am a grown man. I have good +prospects--" + +"Good prospects!" ejaculated the vicar in horror. "Good prospects! Why, +you are only an undergraduate at Cambridge." + +"I may be senior classic in a few months," objected John. "That is not +such a bad prospect, it seems to me." + +"It means that you may get a fellowship, probably will--in the course of +a few years. But you lose it if you marry. Besides--do you know that Mrs. +Goddard is ten years older than you, and more?" + +"Impossible," said John in a tone of conviction. + +"I know that she is. She will be two and thirty on her next birthday, and +you are not yet one and twenty." + +"I shall be next month," argued John, who was somewhat taken aback, +however, by the alarming news of Mrs. Goddard's age. "Besides, I can go +into the church, before I get a fellowship--" + +"No, you can't," said the vicar energetically. "You won't be able to +manage it. If you do, you will have to put up with a poor living." + +"That would not matter. Mrs. Goddard has something--" + +"An honourable prospect!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, growing more and more +excited. "To marry a woman ten years older than yourself because she has +a little money of her own! You! I would not have thought it of you, +John--indeed I would not!" + +Indeed no one was more surprised than John Short himself, when he found +himself arguing the possibilities of his marriage with his old tutor. But +he was an obstinate young fellow enough and was not inclined to give up +the fight easily. + +"Really," he objected, "I cannot see anything so very terrible in the +idea. I shall certainly make my way in the world. You know that it is not +for the sake of her money. Many men have married women ten years older +than themselves, and not half so beautiful and charming, I am sure." + +"I don't believe it," said the vicar, "and if they have, why it has been +very different, that is all. Besides, you have not known Mrs. Goddard a +week--positively not more than five days--why, it is madness! Do you mean +to tell me that at the end of five days you believe you are seriously +attached to a lady you never saw in your life before?" + +"I saw her once," said John. "That day when I waked Muggins--" + +"Once! Nearly three years ago! I have no patience with you, John! That a +young fellow of your capabilities should give way to such a boyish fancy! +It is absolutely amazing! I thought you were growing to like her society +very much, but I did not believe it would, come to this!" + +"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said John stoutly. + +"It is something to be afraid of," answered the vicar. + +"Oh, do not be alarmed," retorted John. "I will do nothing rash. You have +set my mind at rest in assuring me that she will not marry Mr. Juxon. I +shall not think of offering myself to Mrs. Goddard until after the +Tripos." + +"Offering myself"--how deliciously important the expression sounded to +John's own ears! It conveyed such a delightful sense of the possibilities +of life when at last he should feel that he was in a position to offer +himself to any woman, especially to Mrs. Goddard. + +"I have a great mind not to ask you to come down, even if you do turn out +senior classic," said the vicar, still fuming with excitement. "But if +you put off your rash action until then, you will probably have changed +your mind." + +"I will never change my mind," said John confidently. It was evident, +nevertheless, that if the romance of his life were left to the tender +mercies of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, it was likely to come to an +abrupt termination. When the two returned to the society of Mrs. Ambrose, +the vicar was still very much agitated and John was plunged in a gloomy +melancholy. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The vicar's suspicions were more than realized and he passed an +uncomfortable day after his interview with John, in debating what he +ought to do, whether he ought to do anything at all, or whether he should +merely hasten his old pupil's departure and leave matters to take care of +themselves. He was a very conscientious man, and he felt that he was +responsible for John's conduct towards Mrs. Goddard, seeing that she had +put herself under his protection, and that John was almost like one of +his family. His first impulse was to ask counsel of his wife, but he +rejected the plan, reflecting with great justice that she was very fond +of John and had at first not been sure of liking Mrs. Goddard; she would +be capable of thinking that the latter had "led Short on," as she would +probably say. The vicar did not believe this, and was therefore loath +that any one else should. He felt that circumstances had made him Mrs. +Goddard's protector, and he was moreover personally attached to her; he +would not therefore do or say anything whereby she was likely to +appear to any one else in an unfavourable light. It was incredible that +she should have given John any real encouragement. Mr. Ambrose wondered +whether he ought to warn her of his pupil's madness. But when he thought +about that, it seemed unnecessary. It was unlikely that John would betray +himself during his present visit, since the vicar had solemnly assured +him that there was no possibility of a marriage so far as Mr. Juxon was +concerned. It was undoubtedly a very uncomfortable situation but there +was evidently nothing to be done; Mr. Ambrose felt that to speak to Mrs. +Goddard would be to precipitate matters in a way which could not but +cause much humiliation to John Short and much annoyance to herself. He +accordingly held his peace, but his upper lip set itself stiffly and his +eyes had a combative expression which told his wife that there was +something the matter. + +After breakfast John went out, on pretence of walking in the garden, and +Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were left alone. The latter, as usual after the +morning meal, busied herself about the room, searching out those secret +corners which she suspected Susan of having forgotten to dust. The vicar +stood looking out of the window. The weather was grey and it seemed +likely that there would be a thaw which would spoil the skating. + +"I think," said Mrs. Ambrose, "that John is far from well." + +"What makes you say that?" inquired the vicar, who was thinking of him at +that very moment. + +"Anybody might see it. He has no appetite--he ate nothing at breakfast +this morning. He looks pale. My dear, that boy will certainly break +down." + +"I don't believe it," answered Mr. Ambrose still looking out of the +window. His hands were in his pockets, thrusting the skirts of his +clerical coat to right and left; he slowly raised himself upon his toes +and let himself down again, repeating the operation as though it helped +him to think. + +"That is the way you spoil all your coats, Augustin," said his wife +looking at him from behind. "I assure you, my dear, that boy is not well. +Poor fellow, all alone at college with nobody to look after him--" + +"We have all had to go through that. I do not think it hurts him a bit," +said the vicar, slowly removing his hands from his pockets in deference +to his wife's suggestion. + +"Then what is it, I would like to know? There is certainly something the +matter. Now I ask you whether he looks like himself?" + +"Perhaps he does look a little tired." + +"Tired! There is something on his mind, Augustin. I am positively certain +there is something on his mind. Why won't you tell me?" + +"My dear--" began the vicar, and then stopped short. He was a very +truthful man, and as he knew very well what was the matter with John he +was embarrassed to find an answer. "My dear," he repeated, "I do not +think he is ill." + +"Then I am right," retorted Mrs. Ambrose, triumphantly. "It is just as I +thought, there is something on his mind. Don't deny it, Augustin; there +is something on his mind." + +Mr. Ambrose was silent; he glared fiercely at the window panes. + +"Why don't you tell me?" insisted his better half. "I am quite sure you +know all about it. Augustin, do you know, or do you not?" + +Thus directly questioned the vicar turned sharply round, sweeping the +window with his coat tails. + +"My dear," he said, shortly, "I do know. Can you not imagine that it may +be a matter which John does not care to have mentioned?" + +Mrs. Ambrose grew red with annoyance. She had set her heart on finding +out what had disturbed John, and the vicar had apparently made up his +mind that she should not succeed. Such occurrences were very rare between +that happy couple. + +"I cannot believe he has done anything wrong," said Mrs. Ambrose. +"Anything which need be concealed from me--the interest I have always +taken--" + +"He has not done anything wrong," said the vicar impatiently. "I do wish +you would drop the subject--" + +"Then why should it be concealed from me?" objected his wife with +admirable logic. "If it is anything good he need not hide his light under +a bushel, I should think." + +"There are plenty of things which are neither bad nor good," argued the +vicar, who felt that if he could draw Mrs. Ambrose into a Socratic +discussion he was safe. + +"That is a distinct prevarication, Augustin," said she severely. "I am +surprised at you." + +"Not at all," retorted the vicar. "What has occurred to John is not owing +to any fault of his." In his own mind the good man excused himself by +saying that John could not have helped falling in love with Mrs. Goddard. +But his wife turned quickly upon him. + +"That does not prevent what has occurred to him, as you call it, from +being good, or more likely bad, to judge from his looks." + +"My dear," said Mr. Ambrose, driven to bay, "I entirely decline to +discuss the point." + +"I thought you trusted me, Augustin." + +"So I do--certainly--and I always consult you about my own affairs." + +"I think I have as much right to know about John as you have," retorted +his wife, who seemed deeply hurt. + +"That is a point then which you ought to settle with John," said the +vicar. "I cannot betray his confidence, even to you." + +"Oh--then he has been making confidences to you?" + +"How in the world should I know about his affairs unless he told me?" + +"One may see a great many things without being told about them, you +know," answered Mrs. Ambrose, assuming a prim expression as she examined +a small spot in the tablecloth. The vicar was walking up and down the +room. Her speech, which was made quite at random, startled him. She, too, +might easily have observed John's manner when he was with Mrs. Goddard; +she might have guessed the secret, and have put her own interpretation on +John's sudden melancholy. + +"What may one see?" asked the vicar quickly. + +"I did not say one could see anything," answered his wife. "But from your +manner I infer that there really is something to see. Wait a minute--what +can it be?" + +"Nothing--my dear, nothing," said the vicar desperately. + +"Oh, Augustin, I know you so well," said the implacable Mrs. Ambrose. "I +am quite sure now, that it is something I have seen. Deny it, my dear." + +The vicar was silent and bit his long upper lip as he marched up and down +the room. + +"Of course--you cannot deny it," she continued. "It is perfectly clear. +The very first day he arrived--when you came down from the Hall, in the +evening--Augustin, I have got it! It is Mrs. Goddard--now don't tell me +it is not. I am quite sure it is Mrs. Goddard. How stupid of me! Is it +not Mrs. Goddard?" + +"If you are so positive," said the vicar, resorting to a form of defence +generally learned in the nursery, "why do you ask me?" + +"I insist upon knowing, Augustin, is it, or is it not, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"My dear, I positively refuse to answer any more questions," said the +vicar with tardy firmness. + +"Oh, it is no matter," retorted Mrs. Ambrose in complete triumph, "if it +were not Mrs. Goddard of course you would say so at once." + +A form of argument so unanswerable, that the vicar hastily left the room +feeling that he had basely betrayed John's confidence, and muttering +something about intolerable curiosity. Mrs. Ambrose had vanquished her +husband, as she usually did on those rare occasions when anything +approaching to a dispute arose between them. Having come to the +conclusion that "it" was Mrs. Goddard, the remainder of the secret needed +no discovery. It was plain that John must be in love with the tenant of +the cottage, and it seemed likely that it would devolve upon Mrs. Ambrose +to clear up the matter. She was very fond of John and her first +impression was that Mrs. Goddard, whom she now again suspected of having +foreign blood, had "led him on"--an impression which the vicar had +anticipated when he rashly resolved not to tell his wife John's secret. +She knew very well that the vicar must have told John his mind in regard +to such an attachment, and she easily concluded that he must have done so +on the previous evening when John called him into the study. But she had +just won a victory over her husband, and she consequently felt that he +was weak, probably too weak to save the situation, and it was borne in +upon her that she ought to do something immediately. Unhappily she did +not see quite clearly what was to be done. She might go straight to Mrs. +Goddard and accuse her of having engaged John's affections; but the more +she thought of that, the more diffident she grew in regard to the result +of such an interview. Curiosity had led her to a certain point, but +caution prevented her from going any further. Mrs. Ambrose was very +cautious. The habit of living in a small place, feeling that all her +actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them, +had made her even more careful than she was by nature. It would be very +unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. Goddard unless she were very sure +of the result. Mrs. Goddard was hardly a friend. In Mrs. Ambrose's +opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost +daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not constitute +friendship. Nevertheless the vicar's wife would have been ashamed to own +that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of +Mrs. Goddard's real character; especially as the latter had requested the +vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at +Billingsfield. Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained +over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally +the events of the last few days. She remembered distinctly that John had +perpetually pursued Mrs. Goddard, and that although the latter seemed to +find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose's knowledge +given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and +signals, which in the good lady's mind were classified under the term +"flirting." Mrs. Ambrose's ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated; +thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had +not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just. +Mrs. Goddard had not flirted with John. It is worthy of notice that in +proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an +explanation from Mrs. Goddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually +arrived at the conclusion that it was John's fault. Half an hour ago, in +the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be +John's fault. She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity. +Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be passed over with +indifference. It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very +soon. + +John thought so too. Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar +knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him +to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of +marrying Mrs. Goddard. He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once +and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over. He would then come +back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the +prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs. +Goddard's feet. But of course he must have one farewell interview. Oh, +those farewell interviews! Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is +taken without leave! + +Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving +the vicarage on the morrow. Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an +equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly +pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for +his health. She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she +was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be +helped. The vicar was moved by his wife's apparent indifference. John, he +said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but +at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of +fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the +consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress. John +saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of +going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night's +interview. But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt +to explain to himself what was happening. + +But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his +intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he +meant to see Mrs. Goddard before he left he must go to her at once. He +therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in +the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road. + +He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. Goddard. He meant, of +course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving +suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to +accomplish it. He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into +his head spontaneously. His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he +blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage. Almost before he knew where +he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the +presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved. But to his great +annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her. Mrs. Goddard sat near +the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep +sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and +hands as she read. Mrs. Goddard extended her hand, without rising. + +"How do you do, Mr. Short?" she said. The young man stood hat in hand in +the middle of the room, feeling very nervous. It was strange that he +should experience any embarrassment now, considering how many hours he +had spent in her company during the last few days. He blushed and +stammered. + +"How do you do? I, in fact--I have come to say good-bye," he blurted out. + +"So soon?" said Mrs. Goddard calmly. "Pray sit down." + +"Are you really going away, Mr. Short?" asked Nellie. "We are so sorry to +lose you." The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been +reading, and thought it very appropriate. Her mother smiled. + +"Yes--as Nellie says--we are sorry to lose you," she said. "I thought you +were to stay until Monday?" + +"So I was--but--very urgent business--not exactly business of course, but +work--calls me away sooner." Having delivered himself of this masterpiece +of explanation John looked nervously at Nellie and then at his hat and +then, with an imploring glance, at Mrs. Goddard. + +"But we shall hear of you, Mr. Short--after the examinations, shall we +not?" + +"Oh yes," said John eagerly. "I will come down as soon as the lists are +out." + +"You have my best wishes, you know," said Mrs. Goddard kindly. "I feel +quite sure that you will really be senior classic." + +"Mamma is always saying that--it is quite true," explained Nellie. + +John blushed again and looked gratefully at Mrs. Goddard. He wished +Nellie would go away, but there was not the least chance of that. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "I often say it. We all take a great interest +in your success here." + +"You are very kind," murmured John. "Of course I shall come down at once +and tell you all about it, if I succeed. I do not really expect to be +first, of course. I shall be satisfied if I get a place in the first ten. +But I mean to do my best." + +"No one can do more," said Mrs. Goddard, leaning back in her chair and +looking into the fire. Her face was quiet, but not sad as it sometimes +was. There was a long silence which John did not know how to break. +Nellie sat upon a carved chair by the side of the fireplace dangling her +legs and looking at her toes, turning them alternately in and out. She +wished John would go for she wanted to get back to her book, but had been +told it was not good manners to read when there were visitors. John +looked at Mrs. Goddard's face and was about to speak, and then changed +his mind and grew red and said nothing. Had she noticed his shyness she +would have made an effort at conversation, but she was absent-minded +to-day, and was thinking of something else. Suddenly she started and +laughed a little. + +"I beg your pardon," she said. "What were you saying, Mr. Short?" Had +John been saying anything he would have repeated it, but being thus +interrogated he grew doubly embarrassed. + +"I--I have not much to say--except good-bye," he answered. + +"Oh, don't go yet," said Mrs. Goddard. "You are not going this afternoon? +It is always so unpleasant to say good-bye, is it not?" + +"Dreadfully," answered John. "I would rather say anything else in the +world. No; I am going early to-morrow morning. There is no help for it," +he added desperately. "I must go, you know." + +"The next time you come, you will be able to stay much longer," said Mrs. +Goddard in an encouraging way. "You will have no more terms, then." + +"No indeed--nothing but to take my degree." + +"And what will you do then? You said the other day that you thought +seriously of going into the church." + +"Oh mamma," interrupted Nellie suddenly looking up, "fancy Mr. Short in a +black gown, preaching like Mr. Ambrose! How perfectly ridiculous he would +look!" + +"Nellie--Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, "do not talk nonsense. It is +very rude to say Mr. Short would look ridiculous." + +"I didn't mean to be rude, mamma," returned Nellie, blushing scarlet and +pouting her lips, "only it would be very funny, wouldn't it?" + +"I daresay it would," said John, relieved by the interruption. "I wish +you would advise me what to do, Mrs. Goddard," he added in a confidential +tone. + +"I?" she exclaimed, and then laughed. "How should I be able to advise +you?" + +"I am sure you could," said John, insisting. "You have such wonderfully +good judgment--" + +"Have I? I did not know it. But, tell me, if you come out very high are +you not sure of getting a fellowship?" + +"It is likely," answered John indifferently. "But I should have to give +it up if I married--" + +"Surely, Mr. Short," cried Mrs. Goddard, with a laugh that cut him to the +quick, "you do not think of marrying for many years to come?" + +"Oh--I don't know," he said, blushing violently, "why should not I?" + +"In the first place, a man should never marry until he is at least five +and twenty years old," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. + +"Well--I may be as old as that before I get the fellowship." + +"Yes, I daresay. But even then, why should you want to resign a handsome +independence as soon as you have got it? Is there anything else so good +within your reach?" + +"There is the church, of course," said John. "But Miss Nellie seems to +think that ridiculous--" + +"Never mind Nellie," answered Mrs. Goddard. "Seriously, Mr. Short, do you +approve of entering the church merely as a profession, a means of earning +money?" + +"Well--no--I did not put it in that way. But many people do." + +"That does not prove that it is either wise or decent," said Mrs. +Goddard. "If you felt impelled to take orders from other motives, it +would be different. As I understand you, you are choosing a profession +for the sake of becoming independent." + +"Certainly," said John. + +"Well, then, there is nothing better for you to do than to get a +fellowship and hold it as long as you can, and during that time you can +make up your mind." She spoke with conviction, and the plan seemed good. +"But I cannot imagine," she continued, "why you should ask my advice." + +"And not to marry?" inquired John nervously. + +"There is plenty of time to think of that when you are thirty--even five +and thirty is not too late." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed John, "I think that is much too old!" + +"Do you call me old?" asked Mrs. Goddard serenely. "I was thirty-one on +my last birthday." + +For the twentieth time, John felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Not +only had he said an unconscionably stupid thing, but Mrs. Goddard, after +advising him not to marry for ten years, had almost hinted that she might +meanwhile be married herself. What else could she mean by the remark? But +John was hardly a responsible being on that day. His views of life and +his understanding were equally disturbed. + +"No indeed," he protested on hearing her confession of age. "No +indeed--why, you are the youngest person I ever saw, of course. But with +men--it is quite different." + +"Is it? I always thought women were supposed to grow old faster than men. +That is the reason why women always marry men so much older than +themselves." + +"Oh--in that case--I have nothing more to say," replied John in very +indistinct tones. The perspiration was standing upon his forehead; the +room swam with him and he felt a terrible, prickly sensation all over his +body. + +"Mamma, shan't I open the door? Mr. Short is so very hot," said Nellie +looking at him in some astonishment. At that moment John felt as though +he could have eaten little Nellie, long legs, ringlets and all, with +infinite satisfaction. He rose suddenly to his feet. + +"The fact is--it is late--I must really be saying good-bye," he +stammered. + +"Must you?" said Mrs. Goddard, suspecting that something was the matter. +"Well, I am very sorry to say good-bye. But you will be coming back soon, +will you not?" + +"Yes--I don't know--perhaps I shall not come back at all. Good-bye--Mrs. +Goddard--good-bye, Miss Nellie." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, looking at him with some +anxiety. "You are not ill? What is the matter?" + +"Oh dear no, nothing," answered John with an unnatural laugh. "No thank +you--good-bye." + +He managed to get out of the door and rushed down to the road. The cold +air steadied his nerves. He felt better. With a sudden revulsion of +feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against +the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general, +not forgetting poor little Nellie. + +"If ever I cross that threshold again--" he muttered with tragic +emphasis. His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously +as he strode towards the vicarage. Several little boys in ragged +smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own +fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned. + +So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the +following morning. He sent an excuse to Mr. Juxon explaining that the +urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when +the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared +the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some +of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly +of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay +and which had come to such a miserable end. + +Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs. Goddard, he was +surprised to find that his memory failed him. He could not recall +anything which could satisfactorily account for the terrible +disappointment and distress he had felt. She had only said that she was +thirty-one years old, precisely as the vicar had stated on the previous +evening, and she had advised him not to marry for some years to come. But +she had laughed, and his feelings had been deeply wounded--he could not +tell precisely at what point in the conversation, but he was quite +certain that she had laughed, and oh! that terrible Nellie! It was very +bitter, and John felt that the best part of his life was lived out. He +went back to his books with a dark and melancholy tenacity of purpose, +flavoured by a hope that he might come to some sudden and awful end in +the course of the next fortnight, thereby causing untold grief and +consternation to the hard-hearted woman he had loved. But before the +fortnight had expired he found to his surprise that he was intensely +interested in his work, and once or twice he caught himself wondering how +Mrs. Goddard would look when he went back to Billingsfield and told her +he had come out at the head of the classical Tripos--though, of course, +he had no intention of going there, nor of ever seeing her again. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mr. Juxon was relieved to hear that John Short had suddenly gone back to +Cambridge. He had indeed meant to like him from the first and had +behaved towards him with kindness and hospitality; but while ready to +admire his good qualities and to take a proper amount of interest in his +approaching contest for honours, he had found him a troublesome person to +deal with and, in his own words, a nuisance. Matters had come to a climax +after the tea at the cottage, when the squire had so completely +vanquished him, but since that evening the two had not met. + +The opposition which John brought to bear against Mr. Juxon was not, +however, without its effect. The squire was in that state of mind in +which a little additional pressure sufficed to sway his resolutions. +It has been seen that he had for some time regarded Mrs. Goddard's +society as an indispensable element in his daily life; he had been so +much astonished at discovering this that he had absented himself for +several days and had finally returned ready to submit to his fate, in so +far as his fate required that he should see Mrs. Goddard every day. +Shortly afterwards John had appeared and by his persistent attempts to +monopolise Mrs. Goddard's conversation had again caused an interruption +in the squire's habits, which the latter had resented with characteristic +firmness. The very fact of having resisted John had strengthened and +given a new tone to Mr. Juxon's feelings towards his tenant. He began to +watch the hands of the clock with more impatience than formerly when, +after breakfast, he sat reading the papers before the library fire, +waiting for the hour when he was accustomed to go down to the cottage. +His interest in the papers decreased as his interest in the time of day +grew stronger, and for the first time in his life he found to his great +surprise that after reading the news of the day with the greatest care, +he was often quite unable to remember a word of what he had read. Then, +at first, he would be angry with himself and would impose upon himself +the task of reading the paper again before going to the cottage. But very +soon he found that he had to read it twice almost every day, and this +seemed such an unreasonable waste of time that he gave it up, and fell +into very unsystematic habits. + +For some days, as though by mutual consent, neither Mrs. Goddard nor the +squire spoke of John Short. The squire was glad he was gone and hoped +that he would not come back, but was too kind-hearted to say so; Mrs. +Goddard instinctively understood Mr. Juxon's state of mind and did not +disturb his equanimity by broaching an unpleasant subject. Several days +passed by after John had gone and he would certainly not have been +flattered had he known that during that time two, out of the four persons +he had met so often in his short holiday, had never so much as mentioned +him. + +One afternoon in January the squire found himself alone with Mrs. +Goddard. It was a great exception, and she herself doubted whether she +were wise to receive him when she had not Nellie with her. Nellie had +gone to the vicarage to help Mrs. Ambrose with some work she had in hand +for her poor people, but Mrs. Goddard had a slight headache and had +stayed at home in consequence. The weather was very bad; heavy clouds +were driving overhead and the north-east wind howled and screamed through +the leafless oaks of the park, driving a fine sleet against the cottage +windows and making the dead creepers rattle against the wall. It was a +bitter January day, and Mrs. Goddard felt how pleasant a thing it was to +stay at home with a book beside her blazing fire. She was all alone, and +Nellie would not be back before four o'clock. Suddenly a well-known step +echoed upon the slate flags without and there was a ring at the bell. +Mrs. Goddard had hardly time to think what she should do, as she laid her +book upon her knee and looked nervously over her shoulder towards the +door. It was awkward, she thought, but it could not be helped. In such +weather it seemed absurd to send the squire away because her little girl +was not with her. He had come all the way down from the Hall to spend +this dreary afternoon at the cottage--she could not send him away. There +were sounds in the passage as of some one depositing a waterproof coat +and an umbrella, the door opened and Mr. Juxon appeared upon the +threshold. + +"Come in," said Mrs. Goddard, banishing her scruples as soon as she saw +him. "I am all alone," she added rather apologetically. The squire, who +was a simple man in many ways, understood the remark and felt slightly +embarrassed. + +"Is Miss Nellie out?" he asked, coming forward and taking Mrs. Goddard's +hand. He had not yet reached the point of calling the child plain +"Nellie;" he would have thought it an undue familiarity. + +"She is gone to the vicarage," answered Mrs. Goddard. "What a dreadful +day! You must be nearly frozen. Will you have a cup of tea?" + +"No thanks--no, you are very kind. I have had a good walk; I am not +cold--never am. As you say, in such weather I could not resist the +temptation to come in. This is a capital day to test that India-rubber +tubing we have put round your windows. Excuse me--I will just look and +see if the air comes through." + +Mr. Juxon carefully examined the windows of the sitting-room and then +returned to his seat. + +"It is quite air-tight, I think," he said with some satisfaction, as he +smoothed his hair with his hand. + +"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Goddard. "It was so very good of you." + +"Not a bit of it," returned the squire cheerily. "A landlord's chief +pre-occupation ought to be the comfort of his tenants and his next +thought should be to keep his houses in repair. I never owned any +houses before, so I have determined to start with good principles." + +"I am sure you succeed. You walked down?" + +"Always walk, in any weather. It is much less trouble and much cheaper. +Besides, I like it." + +"The best of all reasons. Then you will not have any tea? I almost wish +you would, because I want some myself." + +"Oh of course--in that case I shall be delighted. Shall I ring?" + +He rang and Martha brought the tea. Some time was consumed in the +preparations which Mr. Juxon watched with interest as though he had never +seen tea made before. Everything that Mrs. Goddard did interested him. + +"I do not know why it is," she said at last, "but weather like this is +delightful when one is safe at home. I suppose it is the contrast--" + +"Yes indeed. It is like the watch below in dirty-weather." + +"Excuse me--I don't quite understand--" + +"At sea," explained the squire. "There is no luxury like being below when +the decks are wet and there is heavy weather about." + +"I should think so," said Mrs. Goddard. "Have you been at sea much, Mr. +Juxon?" + +"Thirty years," returned the squire laconically. Mrs. Goddard looked at +him in astonishment. + +"You don't mean to say you have been a sailor all your life?" + +"Does that surprise you? I have been a sailor since I was twelve years +old. But I got very tired of it. It is a hard life." + +"Were you in the navy, Mr. Juxon?" asked Mrs. Goddard eagerly, feeling +that she was at last upon the track of some information in regard to his +past life. + +"Yes--I was in the navy," answered the squire, slowly. "And then I was at +college, and then in the navy again. At last I entered the merchant +service and commanded my own ships for nearly twenty years." + +"How very extraordinary! Why then, you must have been everywhere." + +"Very nearly. But I would much rather be in Billingsfield." + +"You never told me," said Mrs. Goddard almost reproachfully. "What a +change it must have been for you, from the sea to the life of a country +gentleman!" + +"It is what I always wanted." + +"But you do not seem at all like the sea captains one hears about--" + +"Well, perhaps not," replied the squire thoughtfully. "There are a great +many different classes of sea captains. I always had a taste for books. A +man can read a great deal on a long voyage. I have sometimes been at sea +for more than two years at a time. Besides, I had a fairly good education +and--well, I suppose it was because I was a gentleman to begin with and +was more than ten years in the Royal Navy. All that makes a great +difference. Have you ever made a long voyage, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"I have crossed the channel," said she. "But I wish you would tell me +something more about your life." + +"Oh no--it is very dull, all that. You always make me talk about myself," +said the squire in a tone of protestation. + +"It is very interesting." + +"But--could we not vary the conversation by talking about you a little?" +suggested Mr. Juxon. + +"Oh no! Please--" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. She grew pale +and busied herself again with the tea. "Do tell me more about your +voyages. I suppose that was the way you collected so many beautiful +things, was it not?" + +"Yes, I suppose so," answered the squire, looking at her curiously. "In +fact of course it was. I was a great deal in China and South America and +India, and in all sorts of places where one picks up things." + +"And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?" + +"Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil +your carpet." + +The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point +of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she +had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost +control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day. + +"Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about +at first," she remarked, in order to say something. + +"I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her +again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard--I don't mean to be inquisitive you know, +but--I always want to be of any use." + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +"I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I +have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can +help you in any way--you have only to say the word." + +Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the +genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was +surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was +in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had +suffered during the greater part of the last three years. + +"You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter--I have a +headache." + +"Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed +embarrassed. + +"You have done too much already," said Mrs. Goddard, fearing that she had +not sufficiently acknowledged his offer of assistance. + +"I cannot do too much. That is impossible," he said in a tone of +conviction. "I have very few friends, Mrs. Goddard, and I like to think +that you are one of the best of them." + +"I am sure--I don't know what to say, Mr. Juxon," she answered, somewhat +startled by the directness of his speech. "I am sure you have always been +most kind, and I hope you do not think me ungrateful." + +"I? You? No--dear me, please never mention it! The fact is, Mrs. +Goddard--" he stopped and smoothed Ms hair. "What particularly +disagreeable weather," he remarked irrelevantly, looking out of the +window at the driving sleet. + +Mrs. Goddard looked down and slowly stirred her tea. She was pale and her +hand trembled a little, but no one could have guessed that she was +suffering any strong emotion. Mr. Juxon looked towards the window, and +the grey light of the winter's afternoon fell coldly upon his square +sunburned face and carefully trimmed beard. He was silent for a moment, +and then, still looking away from his companion, he continued in a less +hesitating tone. + +"The fact is, I have been thinking a great deal of late," he said, "and +it has struck me that your friendship has grown to be the most important +thing in my life." He paused again and turned his hat round upon his +knee. Still Mrs. Goddard said nothing, and as he did not look at her he +did not perceive that she was unnaturally agitated. + +"I have told you what my life has been," he continued presently. "I have +been a sailor. I made a little money. I finally inherited my uncle's +estate here. I will tell you anything else you would like to ask--I don't +think I ever did anything to conceal. I am forty-two years old. I have +about five thousand a year and I am naturally economical. I would like to +make you a proposal--a very respectful proposal, Mrs. Goddard--" + +Mrs. Goddard uttered a faint exclamation of surprise and fell back in her +chair, staring with wide eyes at the squire, her cheeks very pale and her +lips white. He was too much absorbed in what he was saying to notice the +short smothered ejaculation, and he was too much embarrassed to look at +her. + +"Mrs. Goddard," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "will you marry +me?" + +He was not prepared for the result of his speech. He had pondered it for +some time and had come to the conclusion that it was best to say as +little as possible and to say it plainly. It was an honourable proposal +of marriage from a man in middle life to a lady he had known and +respected for many months; there was very little romance about it; he did +not intend that there should be any. As soon as he had spoken he turned +his head and looked to her for his answer. Mrs. Goddard had clasped her +small white hands over her face and had turned her head away from him +against the cushion of the high backed chair. The squire felt very +uncomfortable in the dead silence, broken only by the sleet driving +against the window panes with a hissing, rattling sound, and by the +singing of the tea-kettle. For some seconds, which to Juxon seemed like +an eternity, Mrs. Goddard did not move. At last she suddenly dropped +her hands and looked into the squire's eyes. He was startled by the ashen +hue of her face. + +"It is impossible," she said, shortly, in broken tones. But the squire +was prepared for some difficulties. + +"I do not see the impossibility," he said quite calmly. "Of course, +I would not press you for an answer, my dear Mrs. Goddard. I am afraid +I have been very abrupt, but I will go away, I will leave you to +consider--" + +"Oh no, no!" cried the poor lady in great distress. "It is quite +impossible--I assure you it is quite, quite impossible!" + +"I don't know," said Mr. Juxon, who saw that she was deeply moved, but +was loath to abandon the field without a further struggle. "I am not a +very young man, it is true--but I am not a very old one either. You, my +dear Mrs. Goddard, have been a widow for some years--" + +"I?" cried Mrs. Goddard with a wild hysterical laugh. "I! Oh God of +mercy! I wish I were." Again she buried her face in the cushion. Her +bosom heaved violently. + +The squire started as though he had been struck, and the blood rushed to +his brown face so that the great veins on his temples stood out like +cords. + +"Did I--did I understand you to say that--your husband is living?" he +asked in a strong, loud voice, ringing with emotion. + +Mrs. Goddard moved a little and seemed to make a great effort to speak. + +"Yes," she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the +room in terrible agitation. + +"But where?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. "Mrs. Goddard, I +think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of +him?" + +By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat +supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly +staring eyes. + +"You have a right to know," she said. "He is in Portland--sentenced to +twelve years hard labour for forgery." + +She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she +did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite +motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the +palms turned upwards on her knees. + +Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong +language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of +the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and +he uttered aloud one strong and solemn ejaculation, more an invocation +than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he +looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady +and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes, +motionless, staring out at the driving sleet. + +Mrs. Goddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to +attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should +have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for +in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened +them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the +grey light. + +"Mr. Juxon," she said faintly, "come here, please." + +The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His +face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing. + +"Mr. Juxon," said Mrs. Goddard, speaking in a low voice, but with far +more calm than he could have expected, "you have a right to know my +story. You have been very kind to me, you have made an honourable offer +to me, you have said you were my friend. I ought to have told you before. +If I had had any idea of what was passing in your mind, I would have told +you, cost what it might." + +Mr. Juxon gravely bowed his head. She was quite right, he thought. He had +a right to know all. With all his kind-heartedness he was a stern man by +nature. + +"Yes," continued Mrs. Goddard, "you have every right to know. My +husband," her voice trembled, "was the head of an important firm in +London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's +death I married Mr. Goddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant +tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon +me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my +husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern. +When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My +husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He +speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his +hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three +years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed. +It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and +brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of +retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of +one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at +Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most +of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I +thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers assured me that I +ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It +is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who +conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I +would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and +gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story. +I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--" + +Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her +voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her +eyes. + +"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her +side, but who was in reality deeply moved. + +"No--she thinks he--that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she +fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and +rocking herself from side to side. + +"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her +arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for +having caused you so much pain--" + +"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady. + +"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard +dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears. + +"I think you behaved very honourably--very generously," continued Mr. +Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood +much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you--you +are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I +should go?" + +"Yes--it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all +about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to +his feet. + +"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this--this very unfortunate +day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?" + +Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears. + +"How good you are!" she said softly. + +"Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend. +Good-bye--G--God bless you!" He seized her hand and squeezed it and then +hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with +Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him. + +The squire was not a romantic character. He was a strong plain man, who +had seen the world and was used to most forms of danger and to a good +many forms of suffering. He was kind-hearted and generous, capable of +feeling sincere sympathy for others, and under certain circumstances of +being deeply wounded himself. He had indeed a far more refined nature +than he himself suspected and on this memorable day he had experienced +more emotions than he remembered to have felt in the course of many +years. + +After long debate and after much searching inquiry into his own motives +he had determined to offer himself to Mrs. Goddard, and he had +accordingly done so in his own straightforward manner. It had seemed +a very important action in his life, a very solemn step, but he was not +prepared for the acute sense of disappointment which he felt when Mrs. +Goddard first said it was impossible for her to accept him, still less +had he anticipated the extraordinary story which she had told him, in +explanation of her refusal. His ideas were completely upset. That Mrs. +Goddard was not a widow after all, was almost as astounding as that she +should prove to be the wife of a felon. But Mr. Juxon was no less +persuaded that she herself was a perfectly good and noble woman, than he +had been before. He felt that he would like to cut the throat of the +villain himself; but he resolved that he would more than ever try to be a +good friend to Mrs. Goddard. + +He walked slowly through the storm towards his house, his broad figure +facing the wind and sleet with as much ease as a steamer forging against +a head sea. He was perfectly indifferent to the weather; but Stamboul +slunk along at his heels, shielding himself from the driving wet snow +behind his master's sturdy legs. The squire was very much disturbed. The +sight of his own solemn butler affected him strangely. He stared about +the library in a vacant way, as though he had never seen the place +before. The realisation of his own calm and luxurious life seemed +unnatural, and his thoughts went back to the poor weeping woman he had +just left. She, too, had enjoyed all this, and more also. She had +probably been richer than he. And now she was living on five hundred a +year in one of his own cottages, hiding her shame in desolate +Billingsfield, the shame of her husband, the forger. + +It was such a hopeless position, the squire thought. No one could help +her, no one could do anything for her. For many weeks, revolving the +situation in his mind, he had amused himself by thinking how she would +look when she should be mistress of the Hall, and wondering whether +little Nellie would call him "father," or merely "Mr. Juxon." And now, +she turned out to be the wife of a forger, sentenced to hard labour in a +convict prison, for twelve years. For twelve years--nearly three must +have elapsed already. In nine years more Goddard would be out again. +Would he claim his wife? Of course--he would come back to her for +support. And poor little Nellie thought he was dead! It would be a +terrible day when she had to be told. If he only would die in +prison!--but men sentenced to hard labour rarely die. They are well cared +for. It is a healthy life. He would certainly live through it and come +back to claim his wife. Poor Mrs. Goddard! her troubles were not ended +yet, though the State had provided her with a respite of twelve years. + +The squire sat long in his easy-chair in the great library, and forgot to +dress for dinner--he always dressed, even though he was quite alone. But +the solemn face of his butler betrayed neither emotion nor surprise when +the master of the Hall walked into the dining-room in his knickerbockers. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +When Nellie came home from the vicarage she found her mother looking very +ill. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her features were drawn +and tear-stained, while the beautiful waves of her brown hair had lost +their habitual neatness and symmetry. The child noticed these things, +with a child's quickness, but explained them on the ground that her +mother's headache was probably much worse. Mrs. Goddard accepted the +explanation and on the following day Nellie had forgotten all about it; +but her mother remembered it long, and it was many days before she +recovered entirely from the shock of her interview with the squire. The +latter did not come to see her as usual, but on the morning after his +visit he sent her down a package of books and some orchids from his +hothouses. He thought it best to leave her to herself for a little while; +the very sight of him, he argued, would be painful to her, and any +meeting with her would be painful to himself. He did not go out of the +house, but spent the whole day in his library among his books, not indeed +reading, but pretending to himself that he was very busy. Being a strong +and sensible man he did not waste time in bemoaning his sorrows, but he +thought about them long and earnestly. The more he thought, the more it +appeared to him that Mrs. Goddard was the person who deserved pity rather +than he himself. His mind dwelt on the terrors of her position in case +her husband should return and claim his wife and daughter when the twelve +years were over, and he thought with horror of Nellie's humiliation, if +at the age of twenty she should discover that her father during all these +years had not been honourably dead and buried, but had been suffering the +punishment of a felon in Portland. That the only attempt he had ever made +to enter the matrimonial state should have been so singularly unfortunate +was indeed a matter which caused him sincere sorrow; he had thought too +often of being married to Mary Goddard to be able to give up the idea +without a sigh. But it is due to him to say that in the midst of his own +disappointment he thought much more of her sorrows than of his own, a +state of mind most probably due to his temperament. + +He saw also how impossible it was to console Mrs. Goddard or even to +alleviate the distress of mind which she must constantly feel. Her +destiny was accomplished in part, and the remainder seemed absolutely +inevitable. No one could prevent her husband from leaving his prison when +his crime was expiated; and no one could then prevent him from joining +his wife and ending his life under her roof. At least so it seemed. +Endless complications would follow. Mrs. Goddard would certainly have to +leave Billingsfield--no one could expect the Ambroses or the squire +himself to associate with a convict forger. Mr. Juxon vaguely wondered +whether he should live another nine years to see the end of all this, and +he inwardly determined to go to sea again rather than to witness such +misery. He could not see, no one could see how things could possibly turn +out in any other way. It would have been some comfort to have gone to the +vicar, and to have discussed with him the possibilities of Mrs. Goddard's +future. The vicar was a man after his own heart, honest, reliable, +charitable and brave; but Mr. Juxon thought that it would not be quite +loyal towards Mrs. Goddard if he let any one else know that he was +acquainted with her story. + +For two days he stayed at home and then he went to see her. To his +surprise she received him very quietly, much as she usually did, without +betraying any emotion; whereupon he wished that he had not allowed two +days to pass without making his usual visit. Mrs. Goddard almost wished +so too. She had been so much accustomed to regard the squire as a friend, +and she had so long been used to the thought that Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose +knew of her past trouble, that the fact of the squire becoming acquainted +with her history seemed to her less important, now that it was +accomplished, than it seemed to the squire himself. She had long thought +of telling him all; she had seriously contemplated doing so when he first +came to Billingsfield, and now at last the thing was done. She was glad +of it. She was no longer in a false position; he could never again think +of marrying her; they could henceforth meet as friends, since he was so +magnanimous as to allow their friendship to exist. Her pride had suffered +so terribly in the beginning that it was past suffering now. She felt +that she was in the position of a suppliant asking only for a quiet +resting-place for herself and her daughter, and she was grateful to the +people who gave her what she asked, feeling that she had fallen among +good Samaritans, whereas in merry England it would have been easy for her +to have fallen among priests and Pharisees. + +So it came about that in a few days her relations with Mr. Juxon were +re-established upon a new basis, but more firmly and satisfactorily than +before, seeing that now there was no possibility of mistake. And for a +long time it seemed as though matters would go on as before. Neither Mrs. +Goddard nor the squire ever referred to the interview on that memorable +stormy afternoon, and so far as the squire could judge his life and hers +might go on with perfect tranquillity until it should please the powers +that be and the governor of Portland to set Mr. Walter Goddard at +liberty. Heaven only knew what would happen then, but it was provided +that there should be plenty of time to prepare for anything which might +ensue. The point upon which Mrs. Goddard had not spoken plainly was that +which concerned her probable treatment of her husband after his +liberation. She had passed that question over in silence. She had +probably never dared to decide. Most probably she would at the last +minute seek some safer retreat than Billingsfield and make tip her mind +to hide for the rest of her life. But Mr. Juxon had heard of women who +had carried charity as far as to receive back their husbands under even +worse circumstances; women were soft-hearted creatures, reflected the +squire, and capable of anything. + +Few people in such a situation could have acted consistently as though +nothing had happened. But Mr. Juxon's extremely reticent nature found it +easy to bury other people's important secrets at least as deeply as he +buried the harmless details of his own honest life. Not a hair of his +smooth head was ruffled, not a line of his square manly face was +disturbed. He looked and acted precisely as he had looked and acted +before. His butler remarked that he ate a little less heartily of late, +and that on one evening, as has been recorded, the squire forgot to +dress for dinner. But the butler in his day had seen greater +eccentricities than these; he had the greatest admiration for Mr. Juxon +and was not inclined to cavil at small things. A real gentleman, of the +good sort, who dressed for dinner when he was alone, who never took too +much wine, who never bullied the servants nor quarrelled unjustly with +the bills, was, as the butler expressed it, "not to be sneezed at, on +no account." The place was a little dull, but the functionary was well +stricken in years and did not like hard work. Mr. Juxon seemed to be +conscious that as he never had visitors at the Hall and as there were +consequently no "tips," his staff was entitled to an occasional fee, +which he presented always with great regularity, and which had the +desired effect. He was a generous man as well as a just. + +The traffic in roses and orchids and new books continued as usual between +the Hall and the cottage, and for many weeks nothing extraordinary +occurred. Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard met frequently, and the only +difference to be observed in the manner of the former was that she +mentioned John Short very often, and every time she mentioned him she +fixed her grey eyes sternly upon Mrs. Goddard, who however did not notice +the scrutiny, or, if she did, was not in the least disturbed by it. For a +long time Mrs. Ambrose entertained a feeble intention of addressing Mrs. +Goddard directly upon the subject of John's affections, but the longer +she put off doing so, the harder it seemed to do it. Mrs. Ambrose had +great faith in the sternness of her eye under certain circumstances, and +seeing that Mrs. Goddard never winced, she gradually fell into the belief +that John had been the more to blame, if there was any blame in the +matter. She had indeed succeeded in the first instance, by methods of her +own which have been heretofore detailed, in extracting a sort of +reluctant admission from her husband; but since that day he had proved +obdurate to all entreaty. Once only he had said with considerable +impatience that John was a very silly boy, and was much better engaged +with his books at college than in running after Mrs. Goddard. That was +all, and gradually as the regular and methodical life at the vicarage +effaced the memory of the doings at Christmas time, the good Mrs. +Ambrose forgot that anything unpleasant had ever occurred. There was no +disturbance of the existing relations and everything went on as before +for many weeks. The February thaw set in early and the March winds began +to blow before February was fairly out. Nat Barker the octogenarian +cripple, who had the reputation of being a weather prophet, was +understood to have said that the spring was "loike to be forrard t'year," +and the minds of the younger inhabitants were considerably relieved. Not +that Nat Barker's prophecies were usually fulfilled; no one ever +remembered them at the time when they might have been verified. But they +were always made at the season when people had nothing to do but to talk +about them. Mr. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, turned up his nose +at them, and said he "wished Nat Barker had to dig a parish depth grave +in three hours without a drop of nothin' to wet his pipe with, and if he +didden fine that groun' oncommon owdacious Thomas Reid he didden know. +They didden know nothin', sir, them parish cripples." Wherewith the +worthy sexton took his way with a battered tin can to get his "fours" +at the Feathers. He did not patronise the Duke's Head. It was too +new-fangled for him, and he suspected his arch enemy, Mr. Abraham Boosey, +of putting a rat or two into the old beer to make it "draw," which +accounted for its being so "hard." But Mr. Abraham Boosey was the +undertaker, and he, Thomas Reid, was the sexton, and it did not do to +express these views too loudly, lest perchance Mr. Boosey should, just in +his play, construct a coffin or two just too big for the regulation +grave, and thereby leave Mr. Reid in the lurch. For the undertaker and +the gravedigger are as necessary to each other, as Mr. Reid maintained, +as a pair of blackbirds in a hedge. + +But the spring was "forrard t'year" and the weather was consequently even +more detestable than usual at that season. The roads were heavy. The rain +seemed never weary of pouring down and the wind never tired of blowing. +The wet and leafless creepers beat against the walls of the cottage, and +the chimneys smoked both there and at the vicarage. The rooms were +pervaded with a disagreeable smell of damp coal smoke, and the fires +struggled desperately to burn against the overwhelming odds of rain and +wind which came down the chimneys. Mrs. Goddard never remembered to have +been so uncomfortable during the two previous winters she had spent in +Billingsfield, and even Nellie grew impatient and petulant. The only +bright spot in those long days seemed to be made by the regular visits of +Mr. Juxon, by the equally regular bi-weekly appearance of the Ambroses +when they came to tea, and by the little dinners at the vicarage. The +weather had grown so wet and the roads so bad that on these latter +occasions the vicar sent his dogcart with Reynolds and the old mare, +Strawberry, to fetch his two guests. Even Mr. Juxon, who always walked +when he could, had got into the habit of driving down to the cottage +in a strange-looking gig which he had imported from America, and which, +among all the many possessions of the squire, alone attracted the +unfavourable comment of his butler. He would have preferred to see a good +English dogcart, high in the seat and wheels, at the door of the Hall, +instead of that outlandish vehicle; but Joseph Ruggles, the groom, +explained to him that it was easier to clean than a dogcart, and that +when it rained he sat inside with the squire. + +On a certain evening in February, towards the end of the month, Mr. and +Mrs. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon came to have tea with Mrs. Goddard. Mr. Juxon +had at first not been regularly invited to these entertainments. They +were perhaps not thought worthy of his grandeur; at all events both the +vicar's wife and Mrs. Goddard had asked him very rarely. But as time went +on and Mr. Juxon's character developed under the eyes of the little +Billingsfield society, it had become apparent to every one that he was a +very simple man, making no pretensions whatever to any superiority on +account of his station. They grew more and more fond of him, and ended by +asking him to their small sociable evenings. On these occasions it +generally occurred that the squire and the vicar fell into conversation +about classical and literary subjects while the two ladies talked of the +little incidents of Billingsfield life, of Tom Judd's wife and of Joe +Staines, the choir boy, who was losing his voice, and of similar topics +of interest in the very small world in which they lived. + +The present evening had not been at all a remarkable one so far as the +talk was concerned. The drenching rain, the tendency of the fire to +smoke, the general wetness and condensed depravity of the atmosphere had +affected the spirits of the little party. They were not gay, and they +broke up early. It was not nine o'clock when all had gone, and Mrs. +Goddard and little Eleanor were left alone by the side of their +drawing-room fire. The child sat upon a footstool and leaned her head +against her mother's knee. Mrs. Goddard herself was thoughtful and +sad, without precisely knowing why. She generally looked forward with +pleasure to meeting the Ambroses, but this evening she had been rather +disappointed. The conversation had dragged, and the excellent Mrs. +Ambrose had been more than usually prosy. Nellie had complained of a +headache and leaned wearily against her mother's knee. + +"Tell me a story, mamma--won't you? Like the ones you used to tell me +when I was quite a little girl." + +"Dear child," said her mother, who was not thinking of story-telling, "I +am afraid I have forgotten all the ones I ever knew. Besides, darling, it +is time for you to go to bed." + +"I don't want to go to bed, mamma. It is such a horrid night. The wind +keeps me awake." + +"You will not sleep at all if I tell you a story," objected Mrs. Goddard. + +"Mr. Juxon tells me such nice stories," said Nellie, reproachfully. + +"What are they about, dear?" + +"Oh, his stories are beautiful. They are always about ships and the blue +sea and wonderful desert islands where he has been. What a wonderful man +he is, mamma, is not he?" + +"Yes, dear, he talks very interestingly." Mrs. Goddard stroked Nellie's +brown curls and looked into the fire. + +"He told me that once, ever so many years ago--he must be very old, +mamma--" Nellie paused and looked up inquiringly. + +"Well, darling--not so very, very old. I think he is over forty." + +"Over forty--four times eleven--he is not four times as old as I am. +Almost, though. All his stories are ever so many years ago. He said he +was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new ship, and the name of +the ship was--let me see, what was the name? I think it was--" + +Mrs. Goddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child's shoulder. + +"Did you hear anything, Nellie?" she asked quickly. Nellie looked up in +some surprise. + +"No, mamma. When? Just now? It must have been the wind. It is such a +horrid night. The name of the ship was the 'Zephyr'--I remember, now." +She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story. Mrs. +Goddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window. She +had probably been mistaken. + +"And where did the ship sail to, Nellie dear?" she asked, smoothing the +child's curls again and forcing herself to smile. + +"Oh--the ship was a perfectly new ship and it was the most beautiful +weather in the world. They were sailing away ever so far, towards the +straits of Magellan. I was so glad because I knew where the straits of +Magellan were--and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished. But I had been +learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen +there, in my geography that very morning--was not it lucky? So I knew all +about it--mamma, how nervous you are! It is nothing but the wind. I wish +you would listen to my story--" + +"I am listening, darling," said Mrs. Goddard, making a strong effort to +overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her. "Go on, +sweetheart--you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing +away--" + +"Mr. Juxon was, mamma," said Nellie correcting her mother with the +asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects. + +"Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the ship was the 'Zephyr.'" + +"Yes--the 'Zephyr,'" repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified. "It was at +Christmas time he said--but that is summer in the southern hemisphere," +she added, proud of her knowledge. "So it was very fine weather. And Mr. +Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a +cigar--" + +"He never smokes, dear," interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie +that she was listening. + +"Well, but he did then, because he said so," returned Nellie unmoved. +"And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he +saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship--the most wonderful thing +he ever saw," added Nellie with some redundance of expression. + +"Was it a whale, child?" asked her mother, staring into the fire and +trying to pay attention. + +"A whale, mamma!" repeated Nellie contemptuously. "As if there were +anything remarkable about a whale! Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales, +I am sure." + +"Well, what was it, dear?" + +"It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a +thousand times as big as the ship--oh mamma! What was that?" + +Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking +towards the window. Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of +her chair. + +"Somebody knocked at the window, mamma," said Nellie breathlessly. "And +then somebody said 'Mary'--quite loud. Oh mamma, what can it be?" + +"Mary?" repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream. + +"Yes--quite loud. Oh mamma! it must be Mary's young man--he does +sometimes come in the evening." + +"Mary's young man, child?" Mrs. Goddard's heart leaped. Her cook's name +was Mary, as well as her own. Nellie naturally never associated the name +with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it. + +"Yes mamma. Don't you know? The postman--the man with the piebald horse." +The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any +letters and probably did not know the postman by sight. + +"At this time of night!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "It is too bad. Mary is +gone to bed." + +"Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting +up for you in the drawing-room," suggested Nellie with much good sense. +"Well, he can't come in, can he, mamma?" + +"Certainly not," said her mother. "But I think you had much better go to +bed, my dear. It is half-past nine." She spoke indistinctly, almost +thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. But +Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her +mother. + +"Oh not yet," said she. "I have not nearly finished about the +sea-serpent. Mr. Juxon said it was not like anything in the world. Do +listen, mamma! It is the most wonderful story you ever heard. It was +all covered with blue and green scales, and it rolled, and rolled, and +rolled, and rolled, till at last it rolled up against the side of the +ship with such a tremendous bump that Mr. Juxon fell right down on his +back." + +"Yes dear," said Mrs. Goddard mechanically, as the child paused. + +"You don't seem to mind at all!" cried Nellie, who felt that her efforts +to amuse her mother were not properly appreciated. "He fell right down on +his back and hurt himself awfully." + +"That was very sad," said Mrs. Goddard. "Did he catch the sea-serpent +afterwards ?" + +"Catch the sea-serpent! Why mamma, don't you know that nobody has ever +caught the sea-serpent? Why, hardly anybody has ever seen him, even!" + +"Yes dear, but I thought Mr. Juxon--" + +"Of course, Mr. Juxon is the most wonderful man--but he could not catch +the sea-serpent. Just fancy! When he got up from his fall, he looked and +he saw him quite half a mile away. He must have gone awfully fast, should +not you think so? Because, you know, it was only a minute." + +"Yes, my child; and it is a beautiful story, and you told it so nicely. +It is very interesting and you must tell me another to-morrow. But now, +dear, you must really go to bed, because I am going to bed, too. That man +startled me so," she said, passing her small white hand over her pale +forehead and then staring into the fire. + +"Well, I don't wonder," answered Nellie in a patronising tone. "Such a +dreadful night too! Of course, it would startle anybody. But he won't try +again, and you can scold Mary to-morrow and then she can scold her young +man." + +The child spoke so naturally that all doubts vanished from Mrs. Goddard's +mind. She reflected that children are much more apt to see things as they +are, than grown people whose nerves are out of order. Nellie's +conclusions were perfectly logical, and it seemed folly to doubt them. +She determined that Mary should certainly be scolded on the morrow and +she unconsciously resolved in her mind the words she should use; for she +was rather a timid woman and stood a little in awe of her stalwart +Berkshire cook, with her mighty arms and her red face, and her uncommonly +plain language. + +"Yes dear," she said more quietly than she had been able to speak for +some time, "I have no doubt you are quite right. I thought I heard his +footsteps just now, going down the path. So he will not trouble us any +more to-night. And now darling, kneel down and say your prayers, and then +we will go to bed." + +So Nellie, reassured by the news that her mother was going to bed, too, +knelt down as she had done every night during the eleven years of her +life, and clasped her hands together, beneath her mother's. Then she +cleared her throat, then she glanced at the clock, then she looked for +one moment into the sweet serious violet eyes that looked down on her so +lovingly, and then at last she bent her lovely little head and began to +say her prayers, there, by the fire, at her mother's knees, while angry +storm howled fiercely without and shook the closed panes and shutters +and occasional drops of rain, falling down the short chimney, sputtered +in the smouldering coal fire. + +"Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom +come--" + +Nellie gave a loud scream and springing up from her knees flung her arms +around her mother's neck, in uttermost, wildest terror. + +"Mamma, mamma!" she cried looking, and yet hardly daring to look, back +towards the closed window. "It called 'MARY GODDARD'! It is you, mamma! +Oh!" + +There was no mistaking it this time. While Nellie was saying her prayer +there had come three sharp and distinct raps upon the wooden shutter, and +a voice, not loud but clear, penetrating into the room in spite of wind +and storm and rain. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard!" it said. + +Mrs. Goddard started to her feet, lifting Nellie bodily from the ground +in her agony of terror; staring round the room wildly as though in search +of some possible escape. + +"I must come in! I will come in!" said the voice again. + +"Oh don't let him in! Mamma! Don't let him in!" moaned the terrified +child upon her breast, clinging to her and weighing her down, and +grasping her neck and arm with convulsive strength. + +But in moments of great agitation timid people, or people who are thought +timid, not uncommonly do brave things. Mrs. Goddard unclasped Nellie's +hold and forced the terror-struck child into a deep chair. + +"Stay there, darling," she said with unnatural calmness. "Do not be +afraid. I will go and open the door." + +Nellie was now too much frightened to resist. Mrs. Goddard went out into +the little passage which was dimly lighted by a hanging lamp, and closed +the door of the drawing-room behind her. She could hear Nellie's +occasional convulsive sobs distinctly. For one moment she paused, her +right hand on the lock of the front door, her left hand pressed to her +side, leaning against the wall of the passage. Then she turned the key +and the handle and drew the door in towards her. A violent gust of wind, +full of cold and drenching rain, whirled into the passage and almost +blinded her. The lamp flickered in the lantern overhead. But she looked +boldly out, facing the wind and weather. + +"Come in!" she called in a low voice. + +Immediately there was a sound as of footsteps coming from the direction +of the drawing-room window, across the wet slate flags which surrounded +the cottage, and a moment afterwards, peering through the darkness, Mrs. +Goddard saw a man with a ghastly face standing before her in the rain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Mrs. Goddard's heart stood still as she looked at the wretched man, and +tried to discover her husband's face, even a resemblance to him, in the +haggard features she saw close before her. But he gave her small time for +reflection; so soon as he had recognised her he sprang past her into the +passage and pulling her after him closed the door. + +"Mary--don't you know me?" he said, in low tones. "You must save me--they +are after me--" He stood close beside her in the narrow way, beneath +the small lamp; he tried to put his arm around her and he bent down and +brought his ghastly face close to hers. But she drew back as from a +contamination. She was horrified, and it was a natural movement. She knew +his voice even better than his features, now that he spoke. He pressed +nearer to her and she thrust him back with her hands. Then suddenly a +thought struck her; she took him by the sleeve and led him into the +dining-room. There was no light there; she pushed him in. + +"Stay there one minute--" + +"No--no, you won't call--" + +"I will save you--there is--there is somebody in the drawing-room." +Before he could answer her she was gone, leaving him alone in the dark. +He listened intently, not venturing to leave the spot where she had +placed him; he thought he heard voices and footsteps, but no one came out +into the passage. It seemed an eternity to wait. At last she came, +bearing a lighted candle in her hand. She carefully shut the door of the +dining-room behind her and put the light upon the table. She moved like a +person in a dream. + +"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair. "Are you hungry?" His sunken +eyes sparkled. She brought food and ale and set them before him. He ate +and drank voraciously in silence. She sat at the opposite side of the +table--the solitary candle between them, and shading her eyes with one +hand she gazed at his face. + +Walter Goddard was a man at least forty years of age. He had been thought +very handsome once. He had light blue eyes and a fair skin with flaxen +hair--now cropped short and close to his head. There was nearly a +fortnight's growth of beard upon his face, but it was not yet sufficient +to hide his mouth and chin. He had formerly worn a heavy moustache and +it was chiefly the absence of it which now made it hard for his wife to +recognise him. A battered hat, drenched and dripping with rain, shaded +his brows. Possibly he was ashamed to remove it. His mouth was small and +weak and his jaw was pointed. His whole expression was singularly +disagreeable--his hands were filthy, and his face was not clean. About +his neck was twisted a ragged woollen comforter, and he wore a +smock-frock which was now soaked with water and clung to his thin figure. +He devoured the food his wife had brought him, shivering from time to +time as though he were still cold. + +Mrs. Goddard watched him in silence. She had done mechanically according +to her first instinct, had led him in and had given him food. But she had +not recovered herself sufficiently from her first horror and astonishment +to realise her situation. At last she spoke. + +"How did you escape?" she asked. He bent lower than before, over his +plate and would not look at her. + +"Don't ask me," he answered shortly. + +"Why did you do it?" she inquired again. Goddard laughed harshly; his +voice was hoarse and cracked. + +"Why did I do it!" he repeated. "Did you ever hear of any one who would +not escape from prison if he had the chance? Don't look at me like that, +Mary--" + +"I am sorry for you," she said. + +"You don't seem very glad to see me," he answered roughly. "I might have +known it." + +"Yes, you might have known it." + +It seemed a very hard and cruel thing to say, and Mary Goddard was very +far from being a cruel woman by nature; but she was stunned by fear and +disgust and horrified by the possibilities of harm suddenly brought +before her. + +Goddard pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows upon the table +supporting his chin in his hands. He scowled at her defiantly. + +"You have given me a warm reception, after nearly three years +of--separation." There was a bitter sneer in the word. + +"I am horrified to see you here," she said simply. "You know very well +that I cannot conceal you--" + +"Oh, I don't expect miracles," said Goddard contemptuously. "I don't know +that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly +agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved +husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--" + +"I will do what I can for you, Walter," said his wife, whose unnatural +calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation. + +"Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east," answered +the convict savagely. + +"I have not got fifty pounds in the house," protested Mary Goddard, in +some alarm. "I never keep much money--I can get it for you--" + +"I have a great mind to look," returned her husband suspiciously. "How +soon can you get it?" + +"To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--" + +"So you keep a banker's account?" + +"Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!" + +"Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once." Suddenly his voice +changed. "Oh, Mary--you used to love me!" cried the wretched man, burying +his face in his hands. + +"I was very wrong," answered his wife, looking away from him. "You did +not deserve it--you never did." + +"Because I was unfortunate!" + +"Unfortunate!" repeated Mary Goddard with rising scorn. +"Unfortunate--when you were deceiving me every day of your life. I could +have forgiven a great deal--Walter--but not that, not that!" + +"What? About the money?" he asked with sudden fierceness. + +"The money--no. Even though you were disgraced and convicted, Walter, I +would have forgiven that, I would have tried to see you, to comfort you. +I should have been sorry for you; I would have done what I could to help +you. But I could not forgive you the rest; I never can." + +"Bah! I never cared for her," said the convict. But under his livid skin +there rose a faint blush of shame. + +"You never cared for me--that is the reason I--am not glad to see you--" + +"I did, Mary. Upon my soul I did. I love you still!" He rose and came +near to his wife, and again he would have put his arm around her. But she +sprang to her feet with an angry light in her eyes. + +"If you dare to touch me, I will give you up!" she cried. Goddard shrank +back to his chair, very pale and trembling violently. + +"You would not do that, Mary," he almost whined. But she remained +standing, looking at him very menacingly. + +"Indeed I would--you don't know me," she said, between her teeth. + +"You are as hard as a stone," he answered, sullenly, and for some minutes +there was silence between them. + +"I suppose you are going to turn me out into the rain again?" asked the +convict. + +"You cannot stay here--you are not safe for a minute. You will have to +go. You must come back to-morrow and I will give you the money. You had +better go now--" + +"Oh, Mary, I would not have thought it of you," moaned Goddard. + +"Why--what else can I do? I cannot let you sleep in the house--I have no +barn. If any one saw you here it would be all over. People know about +it--" + +"What people?" + +"The vicar and his wife and Mr. Juxon at the Hall." + +"Mr. Juxon? What is he like? Would he give me up if he knew?" + +"I think he would," said Mary Goddard, thoughtfully. "I am almost sure he +would. He is the justice of the peace here--he would be bound to." + +"Do you know him?" Goddard thought he detected a slight nervousness in +his wife's manner. + +"Very well. This house belongs to him." + +"Oh!" ejaculated the convict. "I begin to see." + +"Yes--you see you had better go," said his wife innocently. "How can you +manage to come here tomorrow? You cannot go on without the money--" + +"No--and I don't mean to," he answered roughly. Money was indeed an +absolute necessity to him. "Give me what you have got in the house, +anyhow. You may think better of it to-morrow. I don't trust people of +your stamp." + +Mary Goddard rose without a word and left the room. When she was gone the +convict set himself to finish the jug of ale she had brought, and looked +about him. He saw objects that reminded him of his former home. He +examined the fork with which he had eaten and remembered the pattern and +the engraved initials as he turned it over in his hand. The very table +itself had belonged to his house--the carpet beneath his feet, the chair +upon which he sat. It all seemed too unnatural to be true. That very +night, that very hour, he must go forth again into the wild February +weather and hide himself, leaving all these things behind him; leaving +behind too his wife, the woman he had so bitterly injured, but who was +still his wife. It seemed impossible. Surely he might stay if he pleased; +it was not true that detectives were on his track--it was all a dream, +since that dreadful day when he had written that name, which was not his, +upon a piece of paper. He had waked up and was again at home. But he +started as he heard a footstep in the passage, being now accustomed to +start at sounds which suggested pursuit; he started and he felt the wet +smock-frock, which was his disguise, clinging to him as he moved, and the +reality of the present returned to him with awful force. His wife again +entered the room. + +"There are over nine pounds," she said. "It is all I have." She laid the +money upon the table before him and remained standing. "You shall have +the rest to-morrow," she added. + +"Can't I see Nellie?" he asked suddenly. It was the first time he had +spoken of his child. Mrs. Goddard hesitated. + +"No," she said at last. "You cannot see her now. She must not be told; +she thinks you are dead. You may catch a glimpse of her to-morrow--" + +"Well--it is better she should not know, I suppose. You could not +explain." + +"No, Walter, I could not--explain. Come later to-morrow night--to the +same window. I will undo the shutters and give you the money." Mary +Goddard was almost overcome with exhaustion. It was a terrible struggle +to maintain her composure under such circumstances; but necessity does +wonders. "Where will you sleep to-night?" she asked presently. She pitied +the wretch from her heart, though she longed to see him leave her house. + +"I will get into the stables of some public-house. I pass for a tramp." +There was a terrible earnestness in the simple statement, which did more +to make Mary Goddard realise her husband's position than anything else +could have done. To people who live in the country the word "tramp" means +so much. + +"Poor Walter!" said Mrs. Goddard softly, and for the first time since she +had seen him the tears stood in her eyes. + +"Don't waste your pity on me," he answered. "Let me be off." + +There was half a loaf and some cheese left upon the table. Mrs. Goddard +put them together and offered them to him. + +"You had better take it," she said. He took the food readily enough and +hid it under his frock. He knew the value of it. Then he got upon his +feet. He moved painfully, for the cold and the wet had stiffened his +limbs already weakened with hunger and exhaustion. + +"Let me be off," he said again, and moved towards the door. His wife +followed him in silence. In the passage he paused again. + +"Well, Mary," he said, "I suppose I ought to be grateful to you for not +giving me up to the police." + +"You know very well," answered Mrs. Goddard, "that what I can do to save +you, I will do. You know that." + +"Then do it, and don't forget the money. It's hanging this time if I'm +caught." + +Mrs. Goddard uttered a low cry and leaned against the wall. + +"What?" she faltered. "You have not--" + +"I believe I killed somebody in getting away," answered the felon with a +grim laugh. Then, without her assistance, he opened the door and went out +into the pouring rain. The door shut behind him and Mary Goddard heard +his retreating footsteps on the path outside. When he was fairly gone she +suddenly broke down, and falling upon her knees in the passage beat her +forehead against the wall in an agony of despair. + +Murderer--thief, forger and murderer, too! It was more than she could +bear. Even now he was within a stone's throw of her house; a moment ago +he had been here, beside her--there beyond, too, in the dining-room, +sitting opposite to her at her own table as he had sat in his days of +innocence and honour for many a long year before his crime. In the sudden +necessity of acting, in the unutterable surprise of finding herself again +face to face with him, she had been calm; now that he was gone she felt +as though she must go mad. She asked herself if this filthy tramp, this +branded villain, was the husband she had loved and cherished for years, +whose beauty she had admired, whose hand she had held so often, whose +lips she had kissed--if this was the father of her lovely child. It was +all over now. There was blood upon his hands as well as other guilt. If +he were caught he must die, or at the very least be imprisoned for life. +He could never again be free to come forth after the expiation of his +crimes and to claim her and his child. If he escaped now, it must be to +live in a distant country under a perpetual disguise. If he were caught, +the news of his capture would be in all the papers, the news of his trial +for murder, the very details of his execution. The Ambroses would know +and the squire, even the country folk, would perhaps at last know the +truth about her. Life even in the quiet spot she had chosen would become +intolerable, and she would be obliged to go forth again into a more +distant exile. She bitterly repented having written to her husband in his +prison to tell him where she was settled. It would have been sufficient +to acquaint the governor with the fact, so that Goddard might know where +she was when his term expired. She had never written but once, and he had +perhaps not been allowed to answer the letter. His appearance at her door +proved that he had received it. Would to God he had not, she thought. + +There were other things besides his crime of forgery which had acted far +more powerfully upon Mary Goddard's mind, and which had broken for ever +all ties of affection; circumstances which had appeared during his trial +and which had shown that he had not only been unfaithful to those who +trusted him, but had been unfaithful to the wife who loved him. That was +what she could not forgive; it was the memory of that which rose like an +impassable wall between her and him, worse than his frauds, his forgery, +worse almost than his murder. He had done that which even a loving woman +could not pardon, that which was past all forgiveness. That was why his +sudden appearance roused no tender memories, elicited seemingly so little +sympathy from her. She was too good a woman to say it, but she knew in +her heart that she wished him dead, the very possibility of ever seeing +him again gone from her life for ever, no matter how. + +But she must see him again, nevertheless, and to-morrow. To-morrow, too, +she would have to meet the squire, and appear to act and talk as though +nothing had happened in this terrible night. That would be the hardest of +all, perhaps; even harder than meeting her husband for a brief moment in +order to give him the means of escape. She felt that in helping him she +was participating in his crimes, and yet, she asked herself, what woman +would have acted differently? What woman, even though she might hate her +husband with her whole soul, and justly, would yet be so hard-hearted as +to refuse him assistance when he was flying for his life? It would be +impossible. She must help him at any cost; but it was hard to feel that +she must see the squire and behave with indifference, while her husband +was lurking in the neighbourhood, when a detective might at any moment +come to the door, and demand to search the house. + +These thoughts passed very quickly through her overwrought brain, as she +knelt in the passage; kneeling because she felt she could no longer +stand, the passionate tears streaming down her face, her small hands +pressing her temples. Then she struggled to her feet and dried her eyes, +steadying herself against the wall for a moment. She had almost forgotten +little Nellie whom she had left in the drawing-room. She had told the +child, when she went back to her, leaving Goddard alone in the dark, that +the man was a poor starving tramp, but that she did not want Nellie to +see him, because he looked so miserable. She would give him something to +eat and send him away, she said, and meanwhile Nellie should sit by the +drawing-room fire and wait for her. The child trusted her mother +implicitly and was completely reassured. Mrs. Goddard dried her eyes, +and re-entered the room. Nellie was curled up in a big chair with a book; +she looked up quickly. + +"Why, mamma," she said, "you have been crying!" + +"Have I, darling? I daresay it was the sight of that poor man. He was +very wretched." + +"Is he gone?" asked the child. + +It was unusually late and Nellie was beginning to be sleepy, so that she +was more easily quieted than she could have been in ordinary +circumstances. It might have struck her as strange that a wandering tramp +should know her mother's Christian name, as still more inexplicable that +her mother should have been willing to admit such a man at so late an +hour. She had been badly frightened, but trusting her mother as she did, +her terror had quickly disappeared and had been quickly followed by +sleepiness. + +But Mrs. Goddard. did not sleep that night. She felt as though she could +never sleep again, and for many hours she lay thinking of the new element +of fear which had so suddenly come into her life at the very time when +she believed herself to be safe for many years to come. She longed to +know where her wretched husband was; whether he had found shelter for the +night, whether he was still free or whether he had even then fallen into +the hands of his pursuers. She knew that she could not have concealed him +in the house and that she had done all that lay in her power for him. But +she started at every sound, as the rain rattled against the shutters and +the wind howled down the chimney. + +Walter Goddard, however, was safe for the present and was even +luxuriously lodged, considering his circumstances, for he was comfortably +installed amongst the hay in the barn of the "Feathers" inn. He had been +in Billingsfield since early in the afternoon and had considered +carefully the question of his quarters for the night. He had observed +from a distance the landlord of the said inn, and had boldly offered to +do a "day's work for a night's lodging." He said he was "tramping" his +way back from London to his home in Yorkshire; he knew enough of the +sound of the rough Yorkshire dialect to pass for a native of that county +amongst ignorant labourers who had never heard the real tongue. The +landlord of the Feathers consented to the bargain and Goddard was told +that he might sleep in the barn if he liked, and should take a turn at +cutting chaff the next day to pay for the convenience. The convict slept +soundly; he was past lying awake in useless fits of remorse, and he was +exhausted with his day's journey. Moreover he had now the immediate +prospect of obtaining sufficient money to carry him safely out of the +country, and once abroad he felt sure of baffling pursuit. He was an +accomplished man and spoke French with a fluency unusual in Englishmen; +he determined to get across the channel in some fishing craft; he would +then make his way to Paris and enlist in the Foreign Legion. It would be +safer than trying to go to America, where people were invariably caught +as they landed. It was a race for life and death, and he knew it. Had he +been able to obtain clothes, money and a disguise in London he would have +travelled by rail. But that had been impossible and it now seemed a wiser +plan to "tramp" it. His beard was growing rapidly and would soon make a +complete disguise. Village constables are generally simple people, easily +imposed upon, very different from London detectives; and hitherto he felt +sure that he had baffled pursuit by the mere simplicity of his +proceedings. The intelligent officials of Scotland Yard were used to +forgers and swindlers who travelled by express trains and crossed to +America by fashionable steamers. It did not strike them as very likely +that a man of Walter Goddard's previous tastes and habits could get +through the country in the guise of a tramp. If he had been possessed at +the time of his escape of the money he so much desired he would probably +have been caught; as it was, he got away without difficulty, and at the +very time when every railway station and every port in the kingdom were +being watched for him, he was lurking in the purlieus of Whitechapel, and +then tramping his way east in comparative safety, half starved, it is +true, but unmolested. + +That he was disappointed at the reception his wife had given him did not +prevent him from sleeping peacefully that night. One thing alone +disturbed him, and that was her mention of Mr. Juxon, in whose house, as +she had told him, she lived. It seems incredible that a man in Walter +Goddard's position, lost to every sense of honour, a criminal of the +worst type, who had deceived his wife before he was indicted for forgery, +who had certainly cared very little for her at any time, should now, in a +moment of supreme danger, feel a pang of jealousy on hearing that his +wife lived in the vicinity of the squire and occupied a house belonging +to him. But he was too bad himself not to suspect others, especially +those whom he had wronged, and the feeling was mingled with a strong +curiosity to know whether this woman, who now treated him so haughtily +and drew back from him as from some monstrous horror, was as good as she +pretended to be. He said to himself that on the next day at dawn he would +slip out of the barn and try whether he could not find some hiding-place +within easy reach of the cottage, so as to be able to watch her dwelling +at his ease throughout the day. The plan seemed a good one. Since he was +obliged to wait twenty-four hours in order to get the money he wanted, he +might as well employ the time profitably in observing his wife's habits. +It would be long, he said to himself with a bitter sneer, before he +troubled her again--he would just like to see. + +Having come to this decision he drew some of the hay over his body and in +spite of cold and wet was soon peacefully asleep. But at early dawn he +awoke with the alacrity of a man who constantly expects pursuit, and +slipped down from the hayloft into the barn. There was no one stirring +and he got over the fence at the back of the yard and skirted the fields +in the direction of the church, finally climbing another stile and +entering what he supposed to be the park. On this side the back of the +church ran out into a broad meadow, where the larger portion of the +ancient abbey had once stood. Goddard walked along close by the church +walls. He knew from his observation on the previous afternoon that he +could thus come out into the road in the vicinity of the cottage, unless +his way through the park were interrupted by impassable wire fences. The +ground was very heavy and he was sure not to meet anybody in the meadows +in such weather. + +Suddenly he stopped and looked at a buttress that jutted out from the +church and for the existence of which there seemed to be no ostensible +reason. He examined it and found that it was not a buttress but +apparently a half ruined chamber, which at some former period had been +built upon the side of the abbey. Low down by the ground there was a +hole, where a few stones seemed to have been removed and not replaced. +Goddard knelt down in the long wet grass and put in his head; then he +crept in on his hands and knees and presently disappeared. + +He found himself in a room about ten feet square, dimly lighted by a +small window at the top, and surrounded by long horizontal niches. The +floor, which was badly broken in some places, was of stone. Goddard +examined the place carefully. It was evidently an old vault of the kind +formerly built above ground for the lords of the manor; but the coffins, +if there had ever been any, had been removed elsewhere. Goddard laughed +to himself. + +"I might stay here for a year, if I could get anything to eat," he said +to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The squire had grown used to the position in which he found himself after +Mary Goddard had told him her story. He continued his visits as formerly, +and it could hardly be said that there was any change in his manner +towards her; there was no need of any change, for even at the time when +he contemplated making her his wife there had been nothing lover-like +in his behaviour. He had been a friend and had treated her with all the +respect due to a lonely lady who was his tenant, and even with a certain +formality which had sometimes seemed unnecessary. But though there was no +apparent alteration in his mode of talking, in his habit of bringing her +flowers and books and of looking after the condition of the cottage, both +she and he were perfectly conscious of the fact that they understood each +other much better than before. They were united by the common bond of a +common secret which very closely concerned one of them. Things were not +as they had formerly been. Mrs. Goddard no longer felt that she had +anything to hide; the squire knew that he no longer had anything to hope. +If he had been a selfish man, if she had been a less sensible woman, +their friendship might have ended then and there. But Mr. Juxon was not +selfish, and Mary Goddard did not lack good sense. Having ascertained +that in the ordinary course of events there was no possibility of ever +marrying her, the squire did not at once give her over and go elsewhere; +on the contrary he showed himself more desirous than ever of assisting +her and amusing her. He was a patient man; his day might come yet, if +Goddard died. It did not follow that if he could not marry Mrs. Goddard +he must needs marry some one else; for it was not a wife that he sought, +but the companionship of this particular woman as his wife. If he could +not marry he could still enjoy at least a portion of that companionship, +by visiting her daily and talking with her, and making himself a part of +her life. He judged things very coldly and lost himself in no lofty +flights of imagination. It was better that he should enjoy what fell in +his way in at least seeing Mrs. Goddard and possessing her friendship, +than that he should go out of his course in order to marry merely for the +sake of marrying. He had seen so much of the active side of life that he +was well prepared to revel in the peace which had fallen to his lot. He +cared little whether he left an heir to the park; there were others of +the name, and since the park had furnished matter for litigation during +forty years before he came into possession of it, it might supply the +lawyers with fees for forty years more after his death, for all he cared. +It would have been very desirable to marry Mrs. Goddard if it had been +possible, but since the thing could not be done at present it was best to +submit with a good grace. Since the day when his suit had suddenly come +to grief in the discovery of her real position, Mr. Juxon had +philosophically said to himself that he had perhaps been premature in +making his proposal, and that it was as well that it could not have been +accepted; perhaps she would not have made him a good wife; perhaps he had +deceived himself in thinking that because he liked her and desired her +friendship he really wished to marry her; perhaps all was for the best in +the best of all possible worlds, after all and in spite of all. + +But these reflections, which tended to soothe the squire's annoyance at +the failure of a scheme which he had contemplated with so much delight, +did not prevent him from feeling the most sincere sympathy for Mrs. +Goddard, nor from constantly wishing that he could devise some plan for +helping her. She seemed never to have thought of divorcing herself from +her husband. The squire was not sure whether such a thing were possible; +he doubted it, and promised himself that he would get a lawyer's opinion +upon the matter. He believed that English law did not grant divorces on +account of the husband's being sentenced to any limited period of penal +servitude. But in any case it would be a very delicate subject to +approach, and Mr. Juxon amused himself by constructing conversations in +his mind which should lead up to this point without wounding poor Mrs. +Goddard's sensibilities. He was the kindest of men; he would not for +worlds have said a word which should recall to her that memorable day +when she had told him her story. And yet it would be quite impossible to +broach such a scheme without going at once into all the details of the +chief cause of her sorrows. The consequence was that in the windings of +his imagination the squire found himself perpetually turning in a vicious +circle; but since the exercise concerned Mrs. Goddard and her welfare it +was not uncongenial. He founded all his vague hopes upon one expression +she had used. When in making his proposal he had spoken of her as being a +widow, she had said, "Would to God that I were!" She had said it with +such vehemence that he had felt sure that if she had indeed been a widow +her answer to himself would have been favourable. Men easily retain such +impressions received in moments of great excitement, and found hopes upon +them. + +So the days had gone by and the squire had thought much but had come to +no conclusion. On the morning when Walter Goddard crept into the disused +vault at the back of the church, the squire awoke from his sleep at his +usual early hour. He was not in a very good humour, if so equable a man +could be said to be subject to such weaknesses as humours. The weather +was very depressing--day after day brought only more rain, more wind, +more mud, more of everything disagreeable. The previous evening had been +unusually dull. He was never weary of being with Mary Goddard, but +occasionally, when the Ambroses were present, the conversation became +oppressive. Mr. Juxon almost wished that John Short would come back and +cause a diversion. His views concerning John had undergone some change +since he had discovered that nobody could marry Mrs. Goddard because she +was married already. He believed he could watch John's efforts to attract +her attention with indifference now, or if without indifference with a +charitable forbearance. John at least would help to make conversation, +and the conversation on the previous evening had been intolerably +wearisome. Almost unconsciously, since the chief interest and hope of his +daily life had been removed the squire began to long for a change; he +had been a wanderer by profession during thirty years of his life and he +was perhaps not yet old enough to settle into that absolute indifference +to novelty which seems to characterise retired sailors. + +But as he brushed his smooth hair and combed his beard that morning, +neither change nor excitement were very far from him. He looked over his +dressing-glass at the leafless oaks of the park, at the grey sky and the +driving rain and he wished something would happen. He wished somebody +might die and leave a great library to be sold, that he might indulge +his favourite passion; he wished he had somebody stopping in the Hall--he +almost decided to send and ask the vicar to come to lunch and have a day +among the books. As he entered the breakfast-room at precisely half-past +eight o'clock, according to his wont, the butler informed him that Mr. +Gall, the village constable, was below and wanted to see him after +breakfast. He received the news in silence and sat down to eat his +breakfast and read the morning paper. Gall had probably come about some +petty summons, or to ask what he should do about the small boys who threw +stones at the rooks and broke the church windows. After finishing his +meal and his paper in the leisurely manner peculiar to country gentlemen +who have nothing to do, the squire rang the bell, sent for the policeman +and went into his study, a small room adjoining the library. + +Thomas Gall, constable, was a tall fair man with a mild eye and a +cheerful face. Goodwill towards men and plentiful good living had done +their work in eradicating from the good man all that stern element which +might have been most useful to him in his career, not to say useful to +the State. Each rolling year was pricked in his leathern belt with a new +hole as his heart grew more peaceful and his body throve. He had a goodly +girth and weighed full fifteen stone in his uniform; his mild blue eye +had inspired confidence in a maiden of Billingsfield parish and Mrs. Gall +was now rearing a numerous family of little Galls, all perhaps destined +to become mild-eyed and portly village constables in their turn. + +The squire, who was not destitute of a sense of humour, never thought of +Mr. Gall without a smile, so much out of keeping did the man's occupation +seem with his jovial humour. Mr. Gall, he said, was the kind of policeman +who would bribe a refractory tramp to move on by the present of a pint of +beer. But Gall had a good point. He was very proud of his profession, and +in the exercise of it he showed a discretion which, if it was the better +part of his valour, argued unlimited natural courage. It was a secret +profession, he was wont to say, and a man who could not keep a secret +would never do for a constable. He shrouded his ways in an amiable +mystery and walked a solitary beat on fine nights; when the nights were +not fine there was nobody to see whether he walked his beat or not. +Probably, he faithfully fulfilled his obligations; but his constitution +seemed to bear exposure to the weather wonderfully well. Whether he ever +saw anything worth mentioning upon those lonely walks of his, is +uncertain; at all events he never mentioned anything he saw, unless it +was in the secrecy of the reports he was supposed to transmit from time +to time to his superiors. + +On the present occasion as he entered the study, the squire observed with +surprise that he looked grave. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon +before and argued that it was just possible that something of real +importance might have occurred. + +"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Gall, approaching the squire respectfully, +after carefully closing the door behind him. + +"Good morning, Gall. Nothing wrong, I hope?" + +"Not yet, sir. I hope not, sir. Only a little matter of business, Mr. +Juxon. In point of fact, sir, I wished to consult you." + +"Yes," said the squire who was used to the constable's method of +circumlocution. "Yes--what is it?" + +"Well, sir--it's this," said the policeman, running his thumb round the +inside of his belt as though to test the pressure, and clearing his +throat. "There has been a general order sent down to be on the lookout, +sir. So I thought it would be best to take your opinion." + +"My opinion," said the squire with great gravity, "is that if you are +directed to be on the look-out, you should be on the look-out; by all +means. What are you to be on the look-out for?" + +"In point of fact, sir," said the constable, lowering his voice, "we are +informed that a criminal has escaped from Portland. I never heard of a +convict getting out of that strong'old o' the law, sir, and I would like +to have your opinion upon it." + +"But if you are informed that some one has escaped," remarked the squire, +"you had better take it for granted that it is true." + +"Juss so, sir. But the circumstances wasn't communicated to us, sir; so +we don't know." + +Mr. Gall paused, and the squire smoothed his hair a little. + +"Well, Gall," said Mr. Juxon, "have you any reason for believing that +this escaped convict is likely to come this way?" + +"Well sir, there is some evidence," answered the policeman, mysteriously. +"Leastways what seems like evidence to me, sir." + +"Of what kind?" the squire fixed his quiet eyes on Mr. Gall's face. + +"His name, sir. The name of the convict. There is a party of that name +residin' here." + +The squire suddenly guessed what was coming, or at least a possibility of +it crossed his mind. If Mr. Gall had been a more observant man he would +have seen that Mr. Juxon grew a shade paler and changed one leg over the +other as he sat. But in that moment he had time to nerve himself for the +worst. + +"And what is the name, if you please?" he asked calmly. + +"The name in the general orders is Goddard, sir--Walter Goddard. He was +convicted of forgery three years ago, sir, a regular bad lot. But +discretion is recommended in the orders, sir, as the business is not +wanted to get into the papers." + +The squire was ready. If Gall did not know that Mary Goddard was the wife +of the convict Walter, he should certainly not find it out. In any other +country of Europe that would have been the first fact communicated to the +local police. Very likely, thought Mr. Juxon, nobody knew it. + +"I do not see," he said very slowly, "that the fact of there being a Mrs. +Goddard residing here in the least proves that she is any relation to +this criminal. The name is not so uncommon as that, you know." + +"Nor I either, sir. In point of fact, sir, I was only thinking. It's what +you may call a striking coincidence, that's all." + +"It would have been a still more striking coincidence if his name had +been Juxon like mine, or Ambrose like the vicar's," said the squire +calmly. "There are other people of the name in England, and the local +policemen will be warned to be on the lookout. If this fellow was called +Juxon instead of Goddard, Gall, would you be inclined to think he was a +relation of mine?" + +"Oh no, sir. Ha! ha! Very good sir! Very good indeed! No indeed, sir, and +she such a real lady too!" + +"Well then, I do not see that you can do anything more than keep a sharp +look-out. I suppose they sent you some kind of description?" + +"Well, yes. There was a kind of a description as you say, sir, but I'm +not anyways sure of recognising the party by it. In point of fact, sir, +the description says the convict is a fair man." + +"Is that all?" + +"Neither particular tall, nor yet particular short, sir. Not a very big +'un nor a very little 'un, sir. In point of fact, sir, a fair man. Clean +shaved and close cropped he is, sir, being a criminal." + +"I hope you may recognise him by that account," said the squire, +suppressing a smile. "I don't believe I should." + +"Well, sir, it does say as he's a fair man," remarked the constable. + +"Supposing he blacked his face and passed for a chimney-sweep?" suggested +the squire. The idea seemed to unsettle Gall's views. + +"In that case, sir, I don't know as I should know him, for certain," he +answered. + +"Probably not--probably not, Gall. And judging from the account they have +sent you I don't think you would be to blame." + +"Leastways it can't be said as I've failed to carry out superior +instructions," replied Mr. Gall, proudly. "Then it's your opinion, sir, +that I'd better keep a sharp look-out? Did I understand you to say so, +sir?" + +"Quite so," returned the squire with great calmness. "By all means keep a +sharp look-out, and be careful to be discreet, as the orders instruct +you." + +"You may trust me for that, sir," said the policeman, who dearly loved +the idea of mysterious importance. "Then I wish you good morning, sir." +He prepared to go. + +"Good morning, Gall--good morning. The butler will give you some ale." + +Again Mr. Gall passed his thumb round the inside of his belt, testing the +local pressure in anticipation of a pint. He made a sort of half-military +salute at the door and went out. When the squire was alone he rose from +his chair and paced the room, giving way to the agitation he had +concealed in the presence of the constable. He was very much disturbed at +the news of Goddard's escape, as well he might be. Not that he was aware +that the convict knew of his wife's whereabouts; he did not even suppose +that Goddard could ascertain for some time where she was living, still +less that he would boldly present himself in Billingsfield. But it was +bad enough to know that the man was again at large. So long as he was +safely lodged in prison, Mrs. Goddard was herself safe; but if once he +regained his liberty and baffled the police he would certainly end by +finding out Mary's address and there was no telling to what annoyance, +to what danger, to what sufferings she might be exposed. Here was a new +interest, indeed, and one which promised to afford the squire occupation +until the fellow was caught. + +Mr. Juxon knew that he was right in putting the policeman off the track +in regard to Mrs. Goddard. He himself was a better detective than Gall, +for he went daily to the cottage and if anything was wrong there, was +quite sure to discover it. If Goddard ever made his way to Billingsfield +it could only be for the purpose of seeing his wife, and if he succeeded +in this, Mrs. Goddard could not conceal it from the squire. She was a +nervous woman who could not hide her emotions; she would find herself in +a terrible difficulty and she would perhaps turn to her friend for +assistance. If Mr. Juxon could lay his hands on Goddard, he flattered +himself he was much more able to arrest a desperate man than mild-eyed +Policeman Gall. He had not been at sea for thirty years in vain, and in +his time he had handled many a rough customer. He debated however upon +the course he should pursue. As in his opinion it was unlikely that +Goddard would find out his wife for some time, and improbable that he +would waste such precious time in looking for her, it seemed far from +advisable to warn her that the felon had escaped. On the other hand he +mistrusted his own judgment; if she were not prepared it was just +possible that the man should come upon her unawares, and the shock of +seeing him might be very much worse than the shock of being told that he +was at large. He might consult the vicar. + +At first, the old feeling that it would be disloyal to Mrs. Goddard even +to hint to Mr. Ambrose that he was acquainted with her story withheld him +from pursuing such a course. But as he turned the matter over in his mind +it seemed to him that since it was directly for her good, he would now be +justified in speaking. He liked the vicar and he trusted him. He knew +that the vicar had been a good friend to Mrs. Goddard and that he would +stand by her in any difficulty so far as he might be able. The real +question was how to make sure that the vicar should not tell his wife. If +Mrs. Ambrose had the least suspicion that anything unusual was occurring, +she would naturally try and extract information from her husband, and she +would probably be successful; women, the squire thought, very generally +succeed in operations of that kind. But if once Mr. Ambrose could be +consulted without arousing his wife's suspicions, he was a man to be +trusted. Thereupon Mr. Juxon wrote a note to the vicar, saying that he +had something of great interest to show him, and begging that, if not +otherwise engaged, he would come up to the Hall to lunch. When he had +despatched his messenger, being a man of his word, he went into the +library to hunt for some rare volume or manuscript which the vicar had +not yet seen, and which might account in a spirit of rigid veracity for +the excuse he had given. Meanwhile, as he turned over his rare and +curious folios he debated further upon his conduct; but having once made +up his mind to consult Mr. Ambrose, he determined to tell him boldly what +had occurred, after receiving from him a promise of secrecy. The +messenger brought back word that the vicar would be delighted to come, +and at the hour named the sound of wheels upon the gravel announced the +arrival of Strawberry, the old mare, drawing behind her the vicar and his +aged henchman, Reynolds, in the traditional vicarage dogcart. A moment +later the vicar entered the library. + +"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire inhospitable +tones. "I have something to show you and I have something to say to you." +The two shook hands heartily. Independently of kindred scholarly tastes, +they were sympathetic to each other and were always glad to meet. + +"It is just the weather for bookworms," answered the vicar in cheerful +tones. "Dear me, I never come here without envying you and wishing that +life were one long rainy afternoon." + +"You know I am inclined to think I am rather an enviable person," said +Mr. Juxon, slowly passing his hand over his glossy hair and leading his +guest towards a large table near the fire. Several volumes lay together +upon the polished mahogany. The squire laid his hand on one of them. + +"I have not deceived you," he said. "That is a very interesting volume. +It is the black letter Paracelsus I once spoke of. I have succeeded in +getting it at last." + +"Dear me! What a piece of fortune!" said Mr. Ambrose bending down until +his formidable nose almost touched the ancient page. + +"Yes," said the squire, "uncommonly lucky as usual. Now, excuse my +abruptness in changing the subject--I want to consult you upon an +important matter." + +The vicar looked up quickly with that vague, faraway expression which +comes into the eyes of a student when he is suddenly called away from +contemplating some object of absorbing interest. + +"Certainly," he said, "certainly--a--by all means." + +"It is about Mrs. Goddard," said the squire, looking hard at his visitor. +"Of course it is between ourselves," he added. + +The vicar's long upper lip descended upon its fellow and he bent his +rough grey eyebrows, returning Mr. Juxon's sharp look with interest. He +could not imagine what the squire could have to say about Mrs. Goddard, +unless, like poor John, he had fallen in love with her and wanted to +marry her; which appeared improbable. + +"What is it?" he said sharply. + +"I daresay you do not know that I am acquainted with her story," began +Mr. Juxon. "Do not be surprised. She saw fit to tell it me herself." + +"Indeed?" exclaimed the vicar in considerable astonishment. In that case, +he argued quickly, Mr. Juxon was not thinking of marrying her. + +"Yes--it is not necessary to go into that," said Mr. Juxon quickly. "The +thing I want to tell you is this--Goddard the forger has escaped--" + +"Escaped?" echoed the vicar in real alarm. "You don't mean to say so!" + +"Gall the constable came here this morning," continued Mr. Juxon. "He +told me that there were general orders out for his arrest." + +"How in the world did he get out?" cried the vicar. "I thought nobody was +ever known to escape from Portland!" + +"So did I. But this fellow has--somehow. Gall did not know. Now, the +question is, what is to be done?" + +"I am sure I don't know," returned the vicar, thrusting his hands into +his pockets and marching to the window, the wide skirts of his coat +seeming to wave with agitation as he walked. + +Mr. Juxon also put his hands into his pockets, but he stood still upon +the hearth-rug and looked at the ceiling, softly whistling a little tune, +a habit he had in moments of great anxiety. For three or four minutes +neither of the two spoke. + +"Would you tell Mrs. Goddard--or not?" asked Mr. Juxon at last. + +"I don't know," said the vicar. "I am amazed beyond measure." He turned +and slowly came back to the table. + +"I don't know either," replied the squire. "That is precisely the point +upon which I think we ought to decide. I have known about the story for +some time, but I did not anticipate that it would take this turn." + +"I think," said Mr. Ambrose after another pause, "I think that if there +is any likelihood of the fellow finding her out, we ought to tell her. If +not I think we had better wait until he is caught. He is sure to be +caught, of course." + +"I entirely agree with you," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only--how on earth are +we to find out whether he is likely to come here or not? If any one knows +where he is, he is as good as caught already. If nobody knows, we can +certainly have no means of telling." + +The argument was unanswerable. Again there was a long silence. The vicar +walked about the room in great perplexity. + +"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible business!" he repeated, over and over +again. + +"Do you think we are called upon to do anything?" he asked at last, +stopping in his walk immediately in front of Mr. Juxon. + +"If we can do anything to save Mrs. Goddard from annoyance or further +trouble, we are undoubtedly called upon to do it," replied the squire. +"If that wretch finds her out, he will try to break into the cottage at +night and force her to give him money." + +"Do you really think so? Dear me! I hope he will do no such thing!" + +"So do I, I am sure," said Mr. Juxon, with a grim smile. "But if he finds +her out, he will. I almost think it would be better to tell her in any +case." + +"But think of the anxiety she will be in until he is caught!" cried the +vicar. "She will be expecting him every day--every night. Well--I suppose +we might tell Gall to watch the house." + +"That will not do," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be a great injustice +to allow Gall or any of the people in the village to know anything about +her. She might be subjected to all kinds of insult. You know what these +people are. A 'real lady,' who is at the same time the wife of a convict, +is a thing they can hardly understand. I am sure both you and I secretly +flatter ourselves that we have shown an unusual amount of good sense and +generosity in understanding her position as we do." + +"I daresay we do," said the vicar with a smile. He was too honest to deny +it. "Indeed it took me some time to get used to the idea myself." + +"Precisely. The village people would never get used to it. Of all things +to do, we should certainly not tell Gall, who is an old woman and a great +chatterbox. I wish you could have heard his statement this morning--it +filled me with admiration for the local police, I assure you. But--I +think it would be better to tell her. I did not think so before you came, +I believe. But talking always brings the truth out." + +The vicar hesitated, rising and falling upon his toes and heels in +profound thought, after his manner. + +"I daresay you are right," he said at last. "Will you do it? Or shall I?" + +"I would rather not," said the squire, thoughtfully. "You know her +better, you have known her much longer than I." + +"But she will ask me where I heard of it," objected the vicar. "I shall +be obliged to say that you told me. That will be as bad as though you +told her yourself." + +"You need not say you heard it from me. You can say that Gall has +received instructions to look out for Goddard. She will not question you +any further, I am sure." + +"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Juxon," said the vicar. + +"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire, +almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little. + +"Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon. + +"Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose. + +"Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter, +you see." + +"Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!" + +"Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done." + +"Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that +his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office. + +"Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have +the matter decided. + +"Why not go together?" suggested the vicar. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the +poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs. +Ambrose--" + +"Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile. + +"Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did, +and was very much surprised at the result. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the +cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be +of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they +had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter +Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare +volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host +believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting +to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either. + +The weather had suddenly changed; the east was already clear and over the +west, where the sun was setting in a fiery mist, the huge clouds were +banked up against the bright sky, fringed with red and purple, but no +longer threatening rain or snow. The air was sharp and the plentiful mud +in the roads was already crusted with a brittle casing of ice. + +The squire took leave of Mr. Ambrose at the turning where the road led +into the village and then walked back to the cottage. Even his solid +nerves were a little unsettled at the prospect of the interview +before him; but he kept a stout heart and asked for Mrs. Goddard in his +usual quiet voice. Martha told him that Mrs. Goddard had a bad headache, +but on inquiry found that she would see the squire. He entered the +drawing-room softly and went forward to greet her; she was sitting in a +deep chair propped by cushions. + +Mary Goddard had spent a miserable day. The grey morning light seemed to +reveal her troubles and fears in a new and more terrible aspect. During +the long hours of darkness it seemed as though those things were +mercifully hidden which the strong glare of day must inevitably reveal, +and when the night was fairly past she thought all the world must surely +know that Walter Goddard had escaped and that his wife had seen him. +Hourly she expected a ringing at the bell, announcing the visit of a +party of detectives on his track; every sound startled her and her nerves +were strung to such a pitch that she heard with supernatural acuteness. +She had indeed two separate causes for fear. The one was due to her +anxiety for Goddard's safety; the other to her apprehensions for Nellie. +She had long determined that at all hazards the child must be kept from +the knowledge of her father's disgrace, by being made to believe in his +death. It was a falsehood indeed, but such a falsehood as may surely be +forgiven to a woman as unhappy as Mary Goddard. It seemed monstrous that +the innocent child, who seemed not even to have inherited her father's +looks or temper, should be brought up with the perpetual sense of her +disgrace before her, should be forced to listen to explanations of her +father's crimes and tutored to the comprehension of an inherited shame. +From the first Mary Goddard had concealed the whole matter from the +little girl, and when Walter was at last convicted, she had told her that +her father was dead. Dead he might be, she thought, before twelve years +were out, and Nellie would be none the wiser. In twelve years from the +time of his conviction Nellie would be in her twenty-first year; if it +were ever necessary to tell her, it would be time enough then, for the +girl would have at least enjoyed her youth, free of care and of the +horrible consciousness of a great crime hanging over her head. No child +could grow up in such a state as that implied. No mind could develop +healthily under the perpetual pressure of so hideous a secret; from her +earliest childhood her impressions would be warped, her imagination +darkened and her mental growth stunted. It would be a great cruelty to +tell her the truth; it was a great mercy to tell her the falsehood. It +was no selfish timidity which had prompted Mary Goddard, but a carefully +weighed consideration for the welfare of her child. + +If now, within these twenty-four hours, Nellie should discover who the +poor tramp was, who had frightened her so much on the previous evening, +all this would be at an end. The child's life would be made desolate for +ever. She would never recover from the shock, and to injure lovely Nellie +so bitterly would be worse to Mary Goddard than to be obliged to bear the +sharpest suffering herself. For, from the day when she had waked to a +comprehension of her husband's baseness, the love for her child had taken +in her breast the place of the love for Walter. + +She did not think connectedly; she did not realise her fears; she was +almost wholly unstrung. But she had procured the fifty pounds her husband +required and she waited for the night with a dull hope that all might yet +be well--as well as anything so horrible could be. If only her husband +were not caught in Billingsfield it would not be so bad, perhaps. And yet +it may be that her wisest course would have been to betray him that very +night. Many just men would have said so; but there are few women who +would do it. There are few indeed, so stonyhearted as to betray a man +once loved in such a case; and Mary Goddard in her wildest fear never +dreamed of giving up the fugitive. She sat all day in her chair, wishing +that the day were over, praying that she might be spared any further +suffering or that at least it might be spared to her child whom she so +loved. She had sent Nellie down to the vicarage with Martha. Mrs. Ambrose +loved Nellie better than she loved Nellie's mother, and there was a +standing invitation for her to spend the afternoons at the vicarage. +Nellie said her mother had a terrible headache and wanted to be alone. + +But when the squire came Mrs. Goddard thought it wiser to see him. She +had, of course, no intention of confiding to him an account of the events +of the previous night, but she felt that if she could talk to him for +half an hour she would be stronger. He was himself so strong and honest +that he inspired her with courage. She knew, also, that if she were +driven to the extremity of confiding in any one she would choose Mr. +Juxon rather than Mr. Ambrose. The vicar had been her first friend and +she owed him much; but the squire had won her confidence by his noble +generosity after she had told him her story. She said to herself that he +was more of a man than the vicar. And now he had come to her at the time +of her greatest distress, and she was glad to see him. + +Mr. Juxon entered the room softly, feeling that he was in the presence of +a sick person. Mrs. Goddard turned her pathetic face towards him and held +out her hand. + +"I am so glad to see you," she said, trying to seem cheerful. + +"I fear you are ill, Mrs. Goddard," answered the squire, looking at her +anxiously and then seating himself by her side. "Martha told me you had a +headache--I hope it is not serious." + +"Oh no--not serious. Only a headache," she said with a smile so unlike +her own that Mr. Juxon began to feel nervous. His resolution to tell her +his errand began to waver; it seemed cruel, he thought, to disturb a +person who was evidently so ill with a matter so serious. He remembered +that she had almost fainted on a previous occasion when she had spoken to +him of her husband. She had not been ill then; there was no knowing what +the effect of a shock to her nerves might be at present. He sat still in +silence for some moments, twisting his hat upon his knee. + +"Do not be disturbed about me," said Mrs. Goddard presently. "It will +pass very quickly. I shall be quite well to-morrow--I hope," she added +with a shudder. + +"I am very much disturbed about you," returned Mr. Juxon in an unusually +grave tone. Mrs. Goddard looked at him quickly, and was surprised when +she saw the expression on his face. He looked sad, and at the same time +perplexed. + +"Oh, pray don't be!" she exclaimed as though deprecating further remark +upon her ill health. + +"I wish I knew," said the squire with some hesitation, "whether--whether +you are really very ill. I mean, of course, I know you have a bad +headache, a very bad headache, as I can see. But--indeed, Mrs. Goddard, I +have something of importance to say." + +"Something of importance?" she repeated, staring hard at him. + +"Yes--but it will keep till to-morrow, if you would rather not hear it +now," he replied, looking at her doubtfully. + +"I would rather hear it now," she answered after some seconds of silence. +Her heart beat fast. + +"You were good enough some time ago to tell me about--Mr. Goddard," began +Mr. Juxon in woeful trepidation. + +"Yes," answered his companion under her breath. Her hands were clasped +tightly together upon her knees and her eyes sought the squire's +anxiously and then looked away again in fear. + +"Well, it is about him," continued Mr. Juxon in a gentle voice. "Would +you rather put it off? It is--well, rather startling." + +Mrs. Goddard closed her eyes, like a person expecting to suffer some +terrible pain. She thought Mr. Juxon was going to tell her that Walter +had been captured in the village. + +"Mr. Goddard has escaped," said the squire, making a bold plunge with the +whole truth. The sick lady trembled violently, and unclasping her hands +laid them upon the arms of her chair as though to steady herself to bear +the worse shock to come. But Mr. Juxon was silent. He had told her all he +knew. + +"Yes," she said faintly. "Is there anything--anything more?" Her voice +was barely audible in the still and dusky room. + +"No--except that, of course, there are orders out for his arrest, all +over the country." + +"He has not been arrested yet?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She had expected to +hear that he was caught; she thought the squire was trying to break the +shock of the news. Her courage rose a little now. + +"No, he is not arrested--but I have no doubt he soon will be," added Mr. +Juxon in a tone intended to convey encouragement. + +"How did you hear this?" + +"Gall the policeman, told me this morning. I--I am afraid I have +something else to confess to you, Mrs. Goddard, I trust you will not--" + +"What?" she asked so suddenly as to startle him. Walter might have been +heard of in the neighbourhood, perhaps. + +"I think I was right," continued Mr. Juxon. "I hope you will forgive me. +It does not seem quite loyal, but I did not know what to do. I consulted +the vicar as to whether we should tell you." + +"The vicar? What did he say?" Again Mrs. Goddard felt relieved. + +"He quite agreed with me," answered the squire. "You see we feared that +Mr. Goddard might find his way here and come upon you suddenly. We +thought you would be terribly pained and startled." + +Mrs. Goddard could almost have laughed at that moment. The excellent man +had taken all this trouble in order to save her from the very thing which +had already occurred on the previous night. There was a bitter humour in +the situation, in the squire's kind-hearted way of breaking to her that +news which she already knew so well, in his willingness to put off +telling her until the morrow. What would Mr. Juxon say, could he guess +that she had herself already spoken with her husband and had promised to +see him again that very night! Forgetting that his last words required an +answer, she leaned back in her chair and again folded her hands before +her. Her eyes were half closed and from beneath the drooping lids she +gazed through the gathering gloom at the squire's anxious face. + +"I hope you think I did right," said the latter in considerable doubt. + +"Quite right. I think you were both very kind to think of me as you did," +said she. + +"I am sure, I always think of you," answered Mr. Juxon simply. "I hope +that this thing will have no further consequences. Of course, until we +know of Mr. Goddard's whereabouts we shall feel very anxious. It seems +probable that if he can get here unobserved he will do so. He will +probably ask you for some money." + +"Do you really think he could get here at all?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She +wanted to hear what he would say, for she thought she might judge from +his words whether her husband ran any great risk. + +"Oh no," replied the squire. "I think it is very improbable. I fear this +news has sadly disturbed you, Mrs. Goddard, but let us hope all may turn +out for the best." Indeed he thought she showed very little surprise, +though she had evidently been much moved. Perhaps she had been accustomed +to expect that her husband might one day escape. She was ill, too, and +her nerves were unstrung, he supposed. + +She had really passed through a very violent emotion, but it had not been +caused by her surprise, but by her momentary fear for the fugitive, +instantly allayed by Mr. Juxon's explanation. She felt that for to-day at +least Walter was safe, and by to-morrow he would be safe out of the +neighbourhood. But she reflected that it was necessary to say something; +that if she appeared to receive the news too indifferently the squire's +suspicions might be aroused with fatal results. + +"It is a terrible thing," she said presently. "You see I am not at all +myself." + +It was not easy for her to act a part. The words were commonplace. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon, "I see you are not." He on his part, instead of +looking for a stronger expression of fear or astonishment, was now only +too glad that she should be so calm. + +"Would you advise me to do anything?" she asked presently. + +"There is nothing to be done," he answered quickly, glad of a chance to +relieve the embarrassment of the situation. "Of course we might put you +under the protection of the police but--what is the matter, Mrs. +Goddard?" She had started as though in pain. + +"Only this dreadful headache," she said. "Go on please." + +"Well, we might set Gall the policeman to watch your house; but that +would be very unpleasant for you. It would be like telling him and all +the village people of your situation--" + +"Oh don't! Please don't!" + +"No, certainly not. I think it very unwise. Besides--" he stopped short. +He was about to say that he felt much better able to watch over Mrs. +Goddard himself than Gall the constable could possibly be; but he checked +himself in time. + +"Besides--what?" she asked. + +"Nothing--Gall is not much of a policeman, that is all. I do not believe +you would be any the safer for his protection. But you must promise me, +my dear Mrs. Goddard, that if anything occurs you will let me know. I may +be of some assistance." + +"Thank you, so much," said she. "You are always so kind!" + +"Not at all. I am very glad if you think I was right to tell you about +it." + +"Oh, quite right," she answered. "And now, Mr. Juxon, I am really not at +all well. All this has quite unnerved me--" + +"You want me to go?" said the squire smiling kindly as he rose. "Yes, I +understand. Well, good-bye, my dear friend--I hope everything will +clear up." + +"Good-bye. Thank you again. You always do understand me," she answered +giving him her small cold hand. "Don't think me ungrateful," she added, +looking up into his eyes. + +"No indeed--not that there is anything to be grateful for." + +In a moment more he was gone, feeling that he had done his duty like a +man, and that it had not been so hard after all. He was glad it was done, +however, and he felt that he could face the vicar with a bold front at +their next meeting. He went quickly down the path and crossed the road to +his own gate with a light step. As he entered the park he was not aware +of a wretched-looking tramp who slouched along the quickset hedge and +watched his retreating figure far up the avenue, till he was out of sight +among the leafless trees. If Stamboul had been with the squire the tramp +would certainly not have passed unnoticed; but for some days the roads +had been so muddy that Stamboul had been left behind when Mr. Juxon made +his visits to the cottage, lest the great hound should track the mud into +the spotless precincts of the passage. The tramp stood still and looked +after the squire so long as he could see him, and then slunk off across +the wet meadows, where the standing water was now skimmed with ice. + +Walter Goddard had spent the day in watching for the squire and he had +seen him at last. He had seen him go down the road with the vicar till +they were both out of sight, and he had seen him come back and enter the +cottage. This proceeding, he argued, betrayed that the squire did not +wish to be seen going into Mary's house by the vicar. The tortuous +intelligences of bad men easily impute to others courses which they +themselves would naturally pursue. Three words on the previous evening +had sufficed to rouse the convict's jealousy. What he saw to-day +confirmed his suspicions. The gentleman in knickerbockers could be no +other than the squire himself, of course. He was evidently in the habit +of visiting Mary Goddard and he did not wish his visits to be observed by +the clergyman, who was of course the vicar or rector of the parish. That +proved conclusively in the fugitive's mind that there was something +wrong. He ground his teeth together and said to himself that it would be +worth while to run some risk in order to stop that little game, as he +expressed it. He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered +one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he +had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be +caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex. It would be a great +satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther. +Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at +the back of the church. He discovered loose stones inside the place which +he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance. +Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very +existence of the vault was most likely forgotten. It was not a cheerful +place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach +of supernatural fears. Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the +future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present. The vault +was comparatively dry and was in every way preferable, as a resting-place +for one night, to the interior of a mouldy haystack in the open fields. +He did not dare show himself again at the "Feathers" inn, lest he should +be held to do the day's work he had promised in payment for his night in +the barn. All that morning and afternoon he had lain hidden in the +quickset hedge near the park gate, within sight of the cottage, and he +had been rewarded. The food he had taken with him the night before had +sufficed him and he had quenched his thirst with rain-water from the +ditch. Having seen that the squire went back towards the Hall, Goddard +slunk away to his hiding-place to wait for the night. He lay down as best +he might, and listened for the hours and half-hours as the church clock +tolled them out from the lofty tower above. + +Mary Goddard had told him to come later than before, and it was after +half-past ten when he tapped upon the shutter of the little drawing-room. +All was dark within, and he held his breath as he stood among the wet +creepers, listening intently for the sound of his wife's coming. +Presently the glass window inside was opened. + +"Is that you?" asked Mary's voice in a tremulous whisper. + +"Yes," he answered. "Let me in." Then the shutter was cautiously +unfastened and opened a little and in the dim starlight Goddard +recognised his wife's pale face. Her hand went out to him, with something +in it. + +"There is the money," she whispered. "Go as quickly as you can. They are +looking for you--there are orders out to arrest you." + +Goddard seized her fingers and took the money. She would have withdrawn +her hand but he held it firmly. + +"Who told you that they were after me?" he asked in a fierce whisper. + +"Mr. Juxon--let me go." + +"Mr. Juxon!" The convict uttered a rough oath. "Your friend Mr. Juxon, +eh? He is after me, is he? Tell him--" + +"Hush, hush!" she whispered. "He has no idea you are here--" + +"I should think not," muttered Walter. "He would not be sneaking in here +on the sly to see you if he knew I were about!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Mary. "Oh, Walter, let me go--you hurt me so!" +He held her fingers as in a vice. + +"Hurt you! I wish I could strangle you and him too! Ha, you thought I was +not looking this afternoon when he came! He went to the corner of the +road with the parson, and when the parson was out of sight he came back! +I saw you!" + +"You saw nothing!" answered his wife desperately. "How can you say so! If +you knew how kind he has been, what a loyal gentleman he is, you would +not dare to say such things." + +"You used to say I was a loyal gentleman, Mary," retorted the convict. "I +daresay he is of the same stamp as I. Look here, Mary, if I catch this +loyal gentleman coming here any more I will cut his throat--so look out!" + +"You do not mean to say you are going to remain here any longer, in +danger of your life?" said Mary in great alarm. + +"Well--a man can only hang once. Give me some more of that bread and +cheese, Mary. It was exceedingly good." + +"Then let me go," said his wife, trembling with horror at the threat she +had just heard. + +"Oh yes. I will let you go. But I will just hold the window open in case +you don't come back soon enough. Look sharp!" + +There was no need to hurry the unfortunate woman. In less than three +minutes she returned, bringing a "quartern" loaf and a large piece of +cheese. She thrust them out upon the window-sill and withdrew her hand +before he could catch it. But he held the window open. + +"Now go!" she said. "I cannot do more for you--for God's sake go!" + +"You seem very anxious to see the last of me," he whispered. "I daresay +if I am hanged you will get a ticket to see me turned off. Yes--we +mention those things rather freely up in town. Don't be alarmed. I will +come back to-morrow night--you had better listen. If you had shown a +little more heart, I would have been satisfied, but you are so stony that +I think I would like another fifty pounds to-morrow night. Those notes +are so deliciously crisp--" + +"Listen, Walter!" said Mary. "Unless you promise to go I will raise an +alarm at once. I can face shame again well enough. I will have you--hush! +For God's sake--hush! There is somebody coming!" + +The convict's quick ear had caught the sound. Instantly he knelt and then +lay down at full length upon the ground below the window. It was a fine +night and the conscientious Mr. Gall was walking his beat. The steady +tramp of his heavy shoes had something ominous in it which struck terror +into the heart of the wretched fugitive. With measured tread he came from +the direction of the village. Reaching the cottage he paused and dimly in +the starlight Mrs. Goddard could distinguish his glazed hat--the +provincial constabulary still wore hats in those days. Mr. Gall stood not +fifteen yards from the cottage, failed to observe that a window was +open on the lower floor, nodded to himself as though satisfied with his +inspection and walked on. Little by little the sound of his steps grew +fainter in the distance. Walter slowly raised himself again from the +ground, and put his head in at the window. + +"You see it would not be hard to have you caught," whispered his wife, +still breathless with the passing excitement. "That was the policeman. If +I had called him, it would have been all over with you. I tell you if you +try to come again I will give you up." + +"Oh, that's the way you treat me, is it?" said the convict with another +oath. "Then you had better look out for your dear Mr. Juxon, that's all." + +Without another word, Goddard glided away from the window, let himself +out by the wicket gate and disappeared across the road. + +Mary Goddard was in that moment less horrified by her husband's threat +than by his base ingratitude to herself and by the accusation he seemed +to make against her. Worn out with the emotions of fear and anxiety, she +had barely the strength to close and fasten the window. Then she sank +into the first chair she could find in the dark and stared into the +blackness around her. It seemed indeed more than she could bear. She was +placed in the terrible position of being obliged to betray her fugitive +husband, or of living in constant fear lest he should murder the best +friend she had in the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +On the morning after the events last described Mr. Ambrose sat at +breakfast opposite his wife. The early post had just arrived, bringing +the usual newspaper and two letters. + +"Any news, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with great suavity, as she +rinsed her teacup in the bowl preparatory to repeating the dose. "Is not +it time that we should hear from John?" + +"There is a letter from him, strange to say. Wait a minute--my dear, the +Tripos is over and he wants to know if he may stop here--" + +"The Tripos over already! How has he done? Do tell me, Augustin!" + +"He does not know," returned the vicar, quickly looking over the +contents of the letter. "The lists are not out--he thinks he has done +very well--he has had a hint that he is high up--wants to know whether he +may stop on his way to London--he is going to see his father--" + +"Of course he shall come," said Mrs. Ambrose with enthusiasm. "He must +stop here till the lists are published and then we shall know--anything +else?" + +"The other is a note from a tutor of his side--my old friend Brown--he is +very enthusiastic; says it is an open secret that John will be at the +head of the list--begins to congratulate. Well, my dear, this is very +satisfactory, very flattering." + +"One might say very delightful, Augustin." + +"Delightful, yes quite delightful," replied the vicar, burying his long +nose in his teacup. + +"I only hope it may be true. I was afraid that perhaps John had done +himself harm by coming here at Christmas. Young men are so very +light-headed, are they not, Augustin?" added Mrs. Ambrose with a prim +smile. On rare occasions she had alluded to John's unfortunate passion +for Mrs. Goddard, and when she spoke of the subject she had a tendency to +assume something of the stiffness she affected towards strangers. As has +been seen she had ceased to blame Mrs. Goddard. Generally speaking the +absent are in the wrong in such matters; she could not refer to John's +conduct without a touch of severity. But the Reverend Augustin bent his +shaggy brows; John was now successful, probably senior classic--it was +evidently no time to censure his behaviour. + +"You must be charitable, my dear," he said, looking sharply at his wife. +"We have all been young once you know." + +"Augustin, I am surprised at you!" said Mrs. Ambrose sternly. + +"For saying that I once was young?" inquired her husband. "Strange and +paradoxical as such a statement must appear, I was once a baby." + +"I think your merriment very unseemly," objected Mrs. Ambrose in a tone +of censure. "Because you were once a baby it does not follow that you +ever acted in such a very foolish way about a--" + +"My dear," interrupted the vicar, handing his cup across the table, "I +wish you would leave John alone, and give me another cup of tea. John +will be here to-morrow. Let us receive him as we should. He has done us +credit." + +"He will never be received otherwise in this house, Augustin," replied +Mrs. Ambrose, "whether you allow me to speak my mind or not. I am aware +that Short has done us credit, as you express it. I only hope he always +may do us credit in the future. I am sure, I was like a mother to him. He +ought never to forget it. Why, my dear, cannot you remember how I always +had his buttons looked to and gave him globules when he wanted them? I +think he might show some gratitude." + +"I do not think he has failed to show it," retorted the vicar. + +"Oh, well, Augustin, if you are going to talk like that it is not +possible to argue with you; but he shall be welcome, if he comes. I hope, +however, that he will not go to the cottage--" + +"My dear, I have a funeral this morning. I wish you would not disturb my +mind with these trifles." + +"Trifles! Who is dead? You did not tell me." + +"Poor Judd's baby, of course. We have spoken of it often enough, I am +sure." + +"Oh yes, of course. Poor Tom Judd!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambrose with genuine +sympathy. "It seems to me you are always burying his babies, Augustin! +It is very sad." + +"Not always, my dear. Frequently," said the vicar correcting her. "It is +very sad, as you say. Very sad. You took so much trouble to help them +this time, too." + +"Trouble!" Mrs. Ambrose cast up her eyes. "You don't know how much +trouble. But I am quite sure it was the fault of that brazen-faced +doctor. I cannot bear the sight of him! That comes of answering +advertisements in the newspapers." + +The present doctor had bought the practice abandoned by Mrs. Ambrose's +son-in-law. He had paid well for it, but his religious principles had not +formed a part of the bargain. + +"It is of no use to cry over spilt milk, my dear." + +"I do not mean to. No, I never do. But it is very unpleasant to have such +people about. I really hope Tom Judd will not lose his next baby. When +is John coming?" + +"To-morrow. My dear, if I forget it this morning, will you remember to +speak to Reynolds about the calf?" + +"Certainly, Augustin," said his wife. Therewith the good vicar left her +and went to bury Tom Judd's baby, divided in his mind between rejoicing +over his favourite pupil's success and lamenting, as he sincerely did, +the misfortunes which befell his parishioners. When he left the +churchyard an hour later he was met by Martha, who came from the cottage +with a message begging that the vicar would come to Mrs. Goddard as soon +as possible. Martha believed her mistress was ill, she wanted to see Mr. +Ambrose at once. Without returning to the vicarage he turned to the left +towards the cottage. + +Mrs. Goddard had slept that night, being exhausted and almost broken down +with fatigue. But she woke only to a sense of the utmost pain and +distress, realising that to-day's anxiety was harder to bear than +yesterday's, and that to-morrow might bring forth even worse disasters +than those which had gone before. Her position was one of extreme doubt +and peril. To tell any one that her husband was in the neighbourhood +seemed to be equivalent to rooting out the very last remnant of +consideration for him which remained in her heart, the very last trace of +what had once been the chief joy and delight of her life. She hesitated +long. There is perhaps nothing in human nature more enduring than the +love of man and wife; or perhaps one should rather say than the love of a +woman for her husband. There appear to be some men capable of being so +completely estranged from their wives that there positively does not +remain in them even the faintest recollection of what they have once +felt, nor the possibility of feeling the least pity for what the women +they once loved so well may suffer. There is no woman, I believe, who +having once loved her husband truly, could see him in pain or distress, +or in danger of his life, without earnestly endeavouring to help him. A +woman may cease to love her husband; in some cases she is right in +forgetting her love, but it would be hard to find a case where, were he +the worst criminal alive, had he deceived her a thousand times, she would +not at least help him to escape from his pursuers or give him a crust to +save him from starvation. + +Mary Goddard had done her best for the wretch who had claimed her +assistance. She had fed him, provided him with money, refused to betray +him. But if it were to be a question of giving him up to the law, or of +allowing her best friend to be murdered by him, or even seriously +injured, she felt that pity must be at an end. It would be doubtless a +very horrible thing to give him up, and she had gathered from what he had +said that if he were taken he would pay the last penalty of the law. It +was so awful a thing that she groaned when she thought of it. But she +remembered his ghastly face in the starlight and the threat he had hissed +out against the squire; he was a desperate man, with blood already on his +hands. It was more than likely that he would do the deed he had +threatened to do. What could be easier than to watch the squire on one of +those evenings when he went up the park alone, to fall upon him and take +his life? Of late Mr. Juxon did not even take his dog with him. The +savage bloodhound would be a good protector; but even when he took +Stamboul with him by day, he never brought him at night. It was too long +for the beast to wait, he used to say, from six to nine or half past; he +was so savage that he did not care to leave him out of his sight; he +brought mud into the cottage, or into the vicarage as the case might +be--if Stamboul had been an ordinary dog it would have been different. +Those Russian bloodhounds were not to be trifled with. But the squire +must be warned of his danger before another night came on. + +It was a difficult question. Mrs. Goddard at first thought of telling him +herself; but she shrank from the thought, for she was exhausted and +overwrought. A few days ago she would have been brave enough to say +anything if necessary, but now she had no longer the courage nor the +strength. It seemed so hard to face the squire with such a warning; it +seemed as though she were doing something which would make her seem +ungrateful in his eyes, though she hardly knew why it seemed so. She +turned more naturally to the vicar, to whom she had originally come in +her first great distress; she had only once consulted him, but that one +occasion seemed to establish a precedent in her mind, the precedent of a +thing familiar. It would certainly be easier. After much thought and +inward debate, she determined to send for Mr. Ambrose. + +The fatigue and anxiety she had undergone during the last two days had +wrought great changes in her face. A girl of eighteen or twenty years may +gain delicacy and even beauty from the physical effects of grief, but a +woman over thirty years old gains neither. Mrs. Goddard's complexion, +naturally pale, had taken a livid hue; her lips, which were never very +red, were almost white; heavy purple shadows darkened her eyes; the two +or three lines that were hardly noticeable, but which were the natural +result of a sad expression in her face, had in two days become distinctly +visible and had almost assumed the proportions of veritable wrinkles. Her +features were drawn and pinched--she looked ten years older than she was. +Nothing remained of her beauty but her soft waving brown hair and her +deep, pathetic, violet eyes. Even her small hands seemed to have grown +thin and looked unnaturally white and transparent. + +She was sitting in her favourite chair by the fire, when the vicar +arrived. She had not been willing to seem ill, in spite of what Martha +had said, and she had refused to put cushions in the chair. She was +making an effort, and even a little sense of physical discomfort helped +to make the effort seem easier. She was so much exhausted that she felt +she must not for one moment relax the tension she imposed upon herself +lest her whole remaining strength should suddenly collapse and leave her +at the mercy of events. But Mr. Ambrose was startled when he saw her and +feared that she was very ill. + +"My dear Mrs. Goddard," he said, "what is the matter? Are you ill? Has +anything happened?" + +As he spoke he changed the form of his question, suddenly recollecting +that Mr. Juxon had probably on the previous afternoon told her of her +husband's escape, as he had meant to do. This might be the cause of her +indisposition. + +"Yes," she said in a voice that did not sound like her own, "I have asked +you to come because I am in great trouble--in desperate trouble." + +"Dear me," said the vicar, "I hope not!" + +"Not desperate? Perhaps not. Dear Mr. Ambrose, you have always been so +kind to me--I am sure you can help me now." Her voice trembled. + +"Indeed I will do my best," said the vicar who judged from so unusual an +outburst that there must be really something wrong. "If you could tell me +what it is--" he suggested. + +"That is the hardest part of it," said the unhappy woman. She paused a +moment as though to collect her strength. "You know," she began again, +"that my husband has escaped?" + +"A terrible business!" exclaimed the good man, nodding, however, in +affirmation to the question she asked. + +"I have seen him," said Mary Goddard very faintly, looking down at her +thin hands. The vicar started in astonishment. + +"My dear friend--dear me! Dear, dear, how very painful!" + +"Indeed, you do not know what I have suffered. It is most dreadful, Mr. +Ambrose. You cannot imagine what a struggle it was. I am quite worn out." + +She spoke with such evident pain that the vicar was moved. He felt that +she had more to tell, but he had hardly recovered from his surprise. + +"But, you know," he said, "that was the whole object of warning you. We +did not really believe that he would come here. We were so much afraid +that he would startle you. Of course Mr. Juxon told you he consulted +me--" + +"Of course," answered Mrs. Goddard. "It was too late. I had seen him the +night before." + +"Why, that was the very night we were here!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, more +and more amazed. Mrs. Goddard nodded. She seemed hardly able to speak. + +"He came and knocked at that window," she said, very faintly. "He came +again last night." + +"Dear me--I will send for Gall at once; he will have no difficulty in +arresting him--" + +"Oh please!" interrupted Mrs. Goddard in hysterical tones. "Please, +please, dear Mr. Ambrose, don't!" + +The vicar was silent. He rose unceremoniously from his chair and walked +to the window, as he generally did when in any great doubt. He realised +at once and very vividly the awful position in which the poor lady was +placed. + +"Pray do not think I am very bad," said she, almost sobbing with fear and +emotion. "Of course it must seem dreadful to you that I should wish him +to escape!" + +The vicar came slowly back and stood beside her leaning against the +chimney-piece. It did not take him long to make up his mind. Kind-hearted +people are generally impulsive. + +"I do not, my dear lady. I assure you I fully understand your position. +The fact is, I was too much surprised and I am too anxious for your +safety not to think immediately of securing that--ahem--that unfortunate +man." + +"Oh, it is not my safety! It is not only my safety--" + +"I understand--yes--of course you are anxious about him. But it is +doubtless not our business to aid the law in its course, provided we do +not oppose it." + +"It is something else," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "Oh! how shall I tell +you," she moaned turning her pale cheek to the back of the chair. + +The vicar looked at her and began to think it was perhaps some strange +case of conscience with which he had to deal. He had very little +experience of such things save in the rude form they take among the +labouring classes. But he reflected that it was likely to be something of +the kind; in such a case Mrs. Goddard would naturally enough have sent +for him, more as her clergyman than as her friend. She looked like a +person suffering from some great mental strain. He sat down beside her +and took her passive hand. He was moved, and felt as though he might have +been her father. + +"My dear," he said kindly, almost as though he were speaking to a child, +"have you anything upon your mind, anything which distresses you? Do you +wish to tell me? If so I will do my very best to help you." + +Mrs. Goddard's fingers pressed his hand a little, but her face was still +turned away. + +"It is Mr. Juxon," she almost whispered. If she had been watching the +vicar she would have noticed the strange air of perplexity which came +over his face when he heard the squire's name. + +"Yes--Mr. Juxon," she moaned. Then the choked-down horror rose in her +throat. "Walter means to murder him!" she almost screamed. "Oh, my God, +my God, what shall I do!" she cried aloud clasping her hands suddenly +over her face and rocking herself to and fro. + +The vicar was horror-struck; he could hardly believe his ears, and +believing them his senses swam. In his wildest dreams--and the good man's +dreams were rarely wild--he had never thought that such things could come +near him. Being a very good man and, moreover, a wise man when he had +plenty of time for reflection, he folded his hands quietly and bent his +head, praying fervently for the poor tortured woman who moaned and tossed +herself beside him. It was a terrible moment. Suddenly she controlled +herself and grasping one of the arms of the chair looked round at her +silent companion. + +"You must save him," she said in agonised tones, "you must save them +both! Do not tell me you cannot--oh, do not tell me that!" + +It was a passionate and heart-broken appeal, such a one as few men would +or could resist, coming as it did from a helpless and miserably unhappy +woman. Whether the vicar was wise in giving the answer he did, it would +be hard to say: but he was a man who honestly tried to do his best. + +"I will try, my dear lady," he said, making a great resolution. Mrs. +Goddard took his hand and pressed it in both of hers, and the long +restrained tears flowed fast and softly over her worn cheeks. For some +moments neither spoke. + +"If you cannot save both--you must save--Mr. Juxon," she said at last, +breathing the words rather than speaking them. + +The vicar knew or guessed what it must cost her to hint that her husband +might be captured. He recognised that the only way in which he could +contribute towards the escape of the convict was by not revealing his +hiding-place, and he accordingly refrained from asking where he was +concealed. He shuddered as he thought that Goddard might be lying hidden +in the cottage itself, for all he could tell, but he was quite sure that +he ought not to know it. So long as he did not know where the forger was, +it was easy to hold his peace; but if once he knew, the vicar was not +capable of denying the knowledge. He had never told a lie in his life. + +"I will try," he repeated; and growing calmer, he added, "You are +quite sure this was not an empty threat, my dear friend? Was there any +reason--a--I mean to say, had this unfortunate man ever known Mr. Juxon?" + +"Oh no!" answered Mrs. Goddard, sinking back into her chair. "He never +knew him." Her tears were still flowing but she no longer sobbed aloud; +it had been a relief to her overwrought and sensitive temperament to give +way to the fit of weeping. She actually felt better, though ten minutes +earlier she would not have believed it possible. + +"Then--why?" asked Mr. Ambrose, hesitating. + +"My poor husband was a very jealous man," she answered. "I accidentally +told him that the cottage belonged to Mr. Juxon and yesterday--do you +remember? You walked on with Mr. Juxon beyond the turning, and then he +came back to see me--to tell me of my husband's escape. Walter saw that +and--and he thought, I suppose--that Mr. Juxon did not want you to see +him coming here." + +"But Mr. Juxon had just promised me to go and see you," said the honest +vicar. + +"Yes," said poor Mrs. Goddard, beginning to sob again, "but Walter--my +husband--thinks that I--I care for Mr. Juxon--he is so jealous," cried +she, again covering her face with her hands. The starting tears trickled +through her fingers and fell upon her black dress. She was ashamed, this +time, for she hated even to speak of such a possibility. + +"I understand," answered Mr. Ambrose gravely. It certainly did not strike +him that it might be true, and his knowledge of such characters as Walter +Goddard was got chiefly from the newspapers. He had often noticed in +reports of trials and detailed descriptions of crimes that criminals seem +to become entirely irrational after a certain length of time, and it was +one of the arguments he best understood for demonstrating that bad men +either are originally, or ultimately become mad. To men like the vicar, +almost the only possible theory of crime is the theory of insanity. It is +positively impossible for a man who has passed thirty or forty years in a +quiet country parish to comprehend the motives or the actions of great +criminals. He naturally says they must be crazy or they would not do such +things. If Goddard were crazy enough to commit a forgery, he was crazy +enough for anything, even to the extent of suspecting that his wife loved +the squire. + +"I think," said Mr. Ambrose, "that if you agree with me it will be best +to warn Mr. Juxon of his danger." + +"Of course," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "You must warn him at once!" + +"I will go to the Hall now," said the vicar bravely. "But--I am very +sorry to have to dwell on the subject, my dear lady, but, without wishing +in the least to know where the--your husband is, could you tell me +anything about his appearance? For instance, if you understand what I +mean, supposing that Mr. Juxon knew how he looked and should happen to +meet him, knowing that he wished to kill him--he might perhaps avoid him, +if you understand me?" + +The vicar's English was a little disturbed by his extreme desire not to +hurt Mrs. Goddard's feelings. If the squire and his dog chanced to meet +Walter Goddard they would probably not avoid him as the vicar expressed +it; that was a point Mr. Ambrose was willing to leave to Mrs. Goddard's +imagination. + +"Yes--must you know?" she asked anxiously. + +"We must know that," returned the vicar. + +"He is disguised as a poor tramp," she said sorrowfully. "He wears a +smock-frock and an old hat I think. He is pale--oh, poor, poor Walter!" +she cried again bursting into tears. + +Mr. Ambrose could say nothing. There was nothing to be said. He rose and +took his hat--the old tall hat he wore to his parishioners' funerals. +They were very primitive people in Billingsfield. + +"I will go at once," he said. "Believe me, you have all my sympathy--I +will do all I can." + +Mary Goddard thanked him more by her looks than with any words she was +able to speak. But she was none the less truly grateful for his sympathy +and aid. She had a kind of blind reliance on him which made her feel that +since she had once confided her trouble and danger nothing more could +possibly be done. When he was gone, she sobbed with relief, as before she +had wept for fear; she was hysterical, unstrung, utterly unlike herself. + +But as the vicar went up towards the Hall he felt that he had his hands +full, and he felt moreover an uneasy sensation which he could not have +explained. He was certainly no coward, but he had never been in such a +position before and he did not like it; there was an air of danger about, +an atmosphere which gave him a peculiarly unpleasant thrill from time to +time. He was not engaged upon an agreeable errand, and he had a vague +feeling, due, the scientists would have told him, to unconscious +ratiocination, which seemed to tell him that something was going to +happen. People who are very often in danger know that singular uneasiness +which warns them that all is not well; it is not like anything else that +can be felt. No one really knows its cause, unless it be true that the +mind sometimes reasons for itself without the consciousness of the body, +and communicates to the latter a spasmodic warning, the result of its +cogitations. + +To say to the sturdy squire, "Beware of a man in a smock-frock, one +Goddard the forger, who means to murder you," seemed of itself simple +enough. But for the squire to distinguish this same Goddard from all +other men in smock-frocks was a less easy matter. The vicar, indeed, +could tell a strange face at a hundred yards, for he knew every man, +woman and child in his parish; but the squire's acquaintance was more +limited. Obviously, said Mr. Ambrose to himself, the squire's best course +would be to stay quietly at home until the danger was passed, and to pass +word to Policeman Gall to lay hands on any particularly seedy-looking +tramps he happened to see in the village. It was Gall's duty to do so in +any case, as he had been warned to be on the look-out. Mr. Ambrose +inwardly wondered where the man could be hiding. Billingsfield was not, +he believed, an easy place to hide in, for every ploughman knew his +fellow, and a new face was always an object of suspicion. Not a gipsy +tinker entered the village but what every one heard of it, and though +tramps came through from time to time, it would be a difficult matter for +one of them to remain two days in the place without attracting a great +deal of attention. It was possible that Walter Goddard might have been +concealed for one night in his wife's house, but even there he could not +have remained hidden for two days without being seen by Mrs. Goddard's +two women servants. The vicar walked rapidly through the park, looking +about him suspiciously as he went. Goddard might at that very moment be +lurking behind any one of those oaks; it would be most unpleasant if he +mistook the vicar for the squire. But that, the vicar reflected, was +impossible on account of his clerical dress. He reached the Hall in +safety and stood looking down among the leafless trees, waiting for the +door to be opened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Mr. Juxon received the vicar in the library as he had received him on the +previous day; but on the present occasion Mr. Ambrose had not been sent +for and the squire's face wore an expression of inquiry. He supposed his +friend had come to ask him the result of the interview with Mrs. Goddard, +and as he himself was on the point of going towards the cottage he wished +the vicar had come at a later or an earlier hour. + +"I have a message to give you," said Mr. Ambrose, "a very important +message." + +"Indeed?" answered the squire, observing his serious face. + +"Yes. I had better tell you at once. Mrs. Goddard sent for me this +morning. She has actually seen her husband, who must be hiding in the +neighbourhood. He came to her drawing-room window last night and the +night before." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. "You don't tell me so!" + +"That is not the worst of the matter," continued the vicar, looking very +grave and fixing his eyes on the squire's face. "This villainous fellow +has been threatening to take your life, Mr. Juxon." + +Mr. Juxon stared at the vicar for a moment in surprise, and then broke +into a hearty laugh. + +"My life!" he cried. "Upon my word, the fellow does not know what he is +talking about! Do you mean to say that this escaped convict, who can be +arrested at sight wherever he is found, imagines that he could attack me +in broad daylight without being caught?" + +"Well, no, I suppose not--but you often walk home at night, Mr. +Juxon--alone through the park." + +"I think that dog of mine could manage Mr. Goddard," remarked the squire +calmly. "And pray, Mr. Ambrose, now that we know that the man is in the +neighbourhood, what is to prevent us from finding him?" + +"We do not know where he is," replied the vicar, thanking the inspiration +which had prevented him from asking Mrs. Goddard more questions. He had +promised to save Goddard, too, or at least not to facilitate his capture. +But though he was glad to be able to say honestly that he did not know +where he was, he began to doubt whether in the eyes of the law he was +acting rightly. + +"You do not know?" asked the squire. + +"No; and besides I think--perhaps--we ought to consider poor Mrs. +Goddard's position." + +"Mrs. Goddard's position!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon almost angrily. "And who +should consider her position more than I, Mr. Ambrose? My dear sir, I +consider her position before all things--of course I do. But nothing +could be of greater advantage to her position than the certainty that her +husband is safely lodged in prison. I cannot imagine how he contrived +to escape--can you?" + +"No, I cannot," answered Mr. Ambrose, thrusting his hands into his +pockets and biting his long upper lip. + +"By the bye, did the fellow happen to say why he meant to lay violent +hands on me?" inquired Mr. Juxon. + +"Since you ask--he did. It appears that he saw you going into the +cottage, and immediately became jealous--" + +"Of me?" Mr. Juxon coloured a little beneath his bronzed complexion, and +grew more angry. "Well, upon my word! But if that is true I am much +obliged for your warning. Fellows of that sort never reason--he will very +likely attack me as you say. It will be quite the last time he attacks +anybody--the devil shall have his own, Mr. Ambrose, if I can help him to +it--" + +"Dear me! Mr. Juxon--you surprise me," said the vicar, who had never +heard his friend use such strong language before. + +"It is enough to surprise anybody," remarked the squire. "I trust we +shall surprise Mr. Goddard before night. Excuse me, but when did he +express his amiable intentions towards me?" + +"Last night, I believe," replied Mr. Ambrose, reluctantly. + +"And when did he see me going into the cottage?" + +"Yesterday afternoon, I believe." The vicar felt as though he were +beginning to break his promise of shielding the fugitive, but he could +not refuse to answer a direct question. + +"Then, when he saw me, he was either in the cottage or in the park. There +was no one in the road, I am quite sure." + +"I do not know," said the vicar, delighted at being able to say so. He +was such a simple man that Mr. Juxon noticed the tone of relief in which +he denied any knowledge of Goddard's whereabouts on the previous day as +compared with his reluctance to answer upon those points of which he was +certain. + +"You are not anxious that Goddard should be caught," said the squire +rather sharply. + +"Frankly," returned the vicar, "I do not wish to be instrumental in his +capture--not that I am likely to be." + +"That is none of my business, Mr. Ambrose. I will try and catch him +alone. But it would be better that he should be taken alive and +quietly--" + +"Surely," cried the vicar in great alarm, "you would not kill him?" + +"Oh no, certainly not. But my dog might, Mr. Ambrose. They are ugly dogs +when they are angry, and they have a remarkable faculty for finding +people who are lost. They used to use them in Russia for tracking +fugitive serfs and convicts who escaped from Siberia." + +Mr. Ambrose shuddered. The honest squire seemed almost as bloodthirsty in +his eyes as the convict Goddard. He felt that he did not understand Mr. +Juxon. The idea of hunting people with bloodhounds seemed utterly foreign +to his English nature, and he could not understand how his English friend +could entertain such a thought; he probably forgot that a few generations +earlier the hunting of all kinds of men, papists, dissenters, covenanters +and rebels, with dogs, had been a favourite English sport. + +"Really, Mr. Juxon," he said in an agitated tone, "I think you would do +much better to protect yourself with the means provided by the law. +Considerations of humanity--" + +"Considerations of humanity, sir, are at an end when one man threatens +the life of another. You admit yourself that I am not safe unless Goddard +is caught, and yet you object to my method of catching him. That is +illogical." + +The vicar felt that this was to some extent true; but he was not willing +to admit it. He knew also that if he could dissuade the squire from his +barbarous scheme, Goddard would have a far better chance of escape. + +"I think that with the assistance of Gall and a London detective--" he +began. + +"Gall is an old woman, Mr. Ambrose, and it will take twenty-four hours to +get a detective from town. In twenty-four hours this man may have +attacked me." + +"He will hardly attempt to force his way into your house, Mr. Juxon." + +"So then, I am to stay at home to suit his convenience? I will not do any +such thing. Besides, in twenty-four hours Goddard may have changed his +mind and may have taken himself off. For the rest of her life Mrs. +Goddard will then be exposed to the possibility of every kind of +annoyance." + +"He would never come back, I am sure," objected the vicar. + +"Why not? Every time he comes she will give him money. The more money she +gives him the more often he will come, unless we put an end to his coming +altogether." + +"You seem to forget," urged Mr. Ambrose, "that there will be a vigorous +search made for him. Why not telegraph to the governor of Portland?" + +"I thought you wanted to save Mrs. Goddard from needless scandal; did you +not?" returned the squire. "The governor of Portland would send down a +squad of police who would publish the whole affair. He would have done so +as soon as the man escaped had he known that Mrs. Goddard lived here." + +"I wonder how Goddard himself knew it," remarked Mr. Ambrose. + +"I don't know. Perhaps she told him she was coming here, at their last +interview. Or perhaps she wrote to him in prison and the governor +overlooked the letter. Anything like that would account for it." + +"But if you catch him--alive," hesitated the vicar, "it will all be known +at once. I do not see how you can prevent that." + +"If I catch him alive, I will take him out of Billingsfield without any +one's knowledge. I do not mean to hurt him. I only want to get him back +to prison. Believe me, I am much more anxious than you can possibly be to +save Mrs. Goddard from harm." + +"Very well. I have done my errand," said Mr. Ambrose, with a sort of sigh +of relief. "I confess, I am in great anxiety of mind, both on your +account and on hers. I never dreamed that such things could happen in +Billingsfield." + +"You are certainly not responsible for them," answered Mr. Juxon. "It is +not your fault--" + +"Not altogether, perhaps. But I was perhaps wrong in letting her come +here--no, I am sure I was not," he added impulsively, as though ashamed +of having said anything so unkind. + +"Certainly not. You were quite right, Mr. Ambrose, quite right, I assure +you." + +"Well, I hope all may yet be for the best," said the vicar. + +"Let us hope so," replied Mr. Juxon gravely. "By all means, let us hope +that all may be for the best." + +Whether the squire doubted the possibility of so happy an issue to events +or not, is uncertain. He felt almost more sorry for the vicar than for +himself; the vicar was such a good man, so unused to the violent deeds of +violent people, of which the squire in his wanderings had seen more than +was necessary to convince him that all was not always for the best in +this best of all possible worlds. + +Mr. Ambrose left his friend and as he retraced his steps through the park +was more disturbed than ever. That Goddard should contemplate killing the +squire was bad enough, in all conscience, but that the squire should +deliberately purpose to hunt down Goddard with his bloodhound seemed +somehow even worse. The vicar had indeed promised Mrs. Goddard that he +would not help to capture her husband, but he would have been as glad as +any one to hear that the convict was once more lodged in his prison. +There lurked in his mind, nevertheless, an impression that even a convict +should have a fair chance. The idea was not expressed, but existed in +him. Everybody, he would have said, ought to have a fair chance, and +as the law of nations forbids the use of explosive bullets in warfare, +the laws of humanity seemed to forbid the use of bloodhounds in the +pursuit of criminals. He had a very great respect for the squire's +character and principles, but the cold-blooded way in which Mr. Juxon had +spoken of catching and probably killing Walter Goddard, had shaken the +good vicar's belief in his friend. He doubted whether he were not now +bound to return to Mrs. Goddard and to warn her in his turn of her +husband's danger, whether he ought not to do something to save the +wretched convict from his fate. It seemed hideous to think that in +peaceful Billingsfield, in his own lonely parish, a human being should be +exposed to such peril. But at this point the vicar's continuity forsook +him. He had not the heart to tell the tale of his interview with Mr. +Juxon to the unhappy lady he had left that morning. It was extremely +improbable, he thought, that she should be able to communicate with her +husband during the day, and the squire's language led him to think that +the day would not pass without some attempt to discover Walter Goddard's +hiding-place. Besides, the vicar's mind was altogether more disturbed +than it had been in thirty years, and he was no longer able to account to +himself with absolute accuracy for what he did. At all events, he felt +that it was better not to tell Mrs. Goddard what the squire had said. + +When he was gone, Mr. Juxon paced his library alone in the greatest +uncertainty. He had told the vicar in his anger that he would find +Goddard with the help of Stamboul. That the hound was able to accomplish +the feat in the present weather, and if Goddard had actually stood some +time at the cottage window on the previous night, he did not doubt for a +moment. The vicar had mentioned the window to him when he told him that +Mrs. Goddard had seen her husband. He had probably been at the window as +late as midnight, and the scent, renewed by his visit, would not be +twelve hours old. Stamboul could find the man, unless he had got into a +cart, which was improbable. But a new and startling consideration +presented itself to the squire's mind when the vicar was gone and his +anger had subsided; a consideration which made him hesitate what course +to pursue. + +That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the +criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should +be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at +large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to +all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the +fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one +thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon +had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the +great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet +through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the +convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the +squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection +the thing appeared in a different light. + +He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if +not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a +wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free +she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were +removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the +squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be +to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for +justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that +Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard +might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance +to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want +to murder Goddard and take his wife." + +It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and +murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible one. The very +uncertainty which there was, tempted the squire to disregard the +possibility of Goddard's death as compared with the importance of his +capture. It was quite likely, he unconsciously argued, that the +bloodhound would not kill him after all; it was even possible that he +might not find him; but it would be worth while to make the attempt, for +the results to be obtained by catching the fugitive were very great--Mrs. +Goddard's peace was to be considered before all things. But still before +the squire's eyes arose the picture of Stamboul tearing the throat of the +man he had killed in the Belgrade forest. If he killed the felon, Juxon +would know that to all intents and purposes he had himself done the deed +in order to marry Mrs. Goddard. But still the thought remained with him +and would not leave him. + +The fellow had threatened his own life. It was then a fair fight, +for a man cannot be blamed if he tries to get the better of one who is +going about to kill him. On one of his many voyages, he had once shot a +man in order to quell a mutiny; he had not killed him it is true, but +he had disabled him for the time--he had handled many a rough customer +in his day. The case, he thought, was similar, for it was the case of +self-defence. The law, even, would say he was justified. But to slay a +man in self-defence and then to marry his widow, though justifiable in +law, is a very delicate case for the conscience; and in spite of the +wandering life he had led, Mr. Juxon's conscience was sensitive. He was +an honest man and a gentleman, he had tried all his life to do right as +he saw it, and did not mean to turn murderer now, no matter how easy it +would be for him to defend his action. + +At the end of an hour he had decided that it would be murder, and no +less, to let Stamboul track Goddard to his hiding-place. The hound might +accompany him in his walks, and if anybody attacked him it would be so +much the worse for his assailant. Murder or no murder, he was entitled to +take any precautions he pleased against an assault. But he would not +willingly put the bloodhound on the scent, and he knew well enough that +the dog would not run upon a strange trail unless he were put to it. +The squire went to his lunch, feeling that he had made a good resolution; +but he ate little and soon afterwards began to feel the need of going +down to see Mrs. Goddard. No day was complete without seeing her, and +considering the circumstances which had occurred on the previous +afternoon, it was natural that he should call to inquire after her state. +In the hall, the gigantic beast which had played such an important part +in his thoughts during the morning, came solemnly up to him, raising his +great red eyes as though asking whether he were to accompany his master. +The squire stood still and looked at him for a moment. + +"Come along, Stamboul!" he said suddenly, as he put on his hat. The hound +leaped up and laid his heavy paws on the squire's shoulders, trying to +lick his face in his delight, then, almost upsetting the sturdy man he +sprang back, slipped on the polished floor, recovered himself and with an +enormous stride bounded past Mr. Juxon, out into the park. But Mr. Juxon +quickly called him back, and presently he was following close at heel in +his own stately way, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The +squire felt nervous, and the sensation was new to him. He did not believe +that Goddard would really attack him at all, certainly not that he would +dare to attack him in broad daylight. But the knowledge of the threat the +fellow had uttered made him watchful. He glanced to the right and left as +he walked and gripped his heavy blackthorn stick firmly in his hand. He +wished that if the man were to appear he would come quickly--it might be +hard to hold Stamboul back if he were attacked unawares. + +He reached the gate, crossed the road and rang the bell of the cottage. +As he stood waiting, Stamboul smelled the ground, put up his head, +smelled it again and with his nose down trotted slowly to the window on +the left hand of the door. He smelled the ground, the wall and presently +put both his fore paws upon the outer ledge of the window. Then he +dropped again, and looked at his master. Martha was a long time in coming +to the door. + +"After him, Stamboul!" said the squire, almost unconsciously. The dog put +his nose down and began to move slowly about. At that moment the door +opened. + +"Oh, sir," said Martha, "it's you, sir. I was to say, if you please, that +if you called, Mrs. Goddard was poorly to-day, sir." + +"Dear me!" said Mr. Juxon, "I hope she is not ill. Is it anything +serious, Martha?" + +"Well, sir, she's been down this mornin', but her head ached terrible bad +and she went back to her room--oh, sir, your dog--he's a runnin' home." + +As she spoke a sound rang in the air that made Martha start back. It was +a deep, resounding, bell-like note, fierce and wild, rising and falling, +low but full, with a horror indescribable in its echo--the sound which no +man who has heard it ever forgets--the baying of a bloodhound on the +track of a man. + +The squire turned deadly pale, but he shouted with all his might, as he +would have shouted to a man on the topsail yard in a gale at sea. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul! Stamboul!" Again and again he yelled the dog's name. + +Stamboul had not gone far. The quickset hedge had baffled the scent for a +moment and he was not a dozen yards beyond it in the park when his +master's cry stopped him. Instantly he turned, cleared the six-foot hedge +and double ditch at a bound and came leaping back across the road. The +squire breathed hard, for it had been a terrible moment. If he had not +succeeded in calling the beast back, it might have been all over with +Walter Goddard, wherever he was hidden. + +"It is only his play," said Mr. Juxon, still very white and holding +Stamboul by the collar. "Please tell Mrs. Goddard, Martha, that I am very +sorry indeed to hear that she is ill, and that I will inquire this +evening." + +"Yes, sir," said Martha, who eyed the panting beast timidly and showed an +evident desire to shut the door as soon as possible. + +The squire felt more nervous than ever as he walked slowly along the road +in the direction of the village, his hand still on the bloodhound's +collar. He felt what a narrow escape Goddard had probably had, and the +terrible sound of Stamboul's baying had brought back to him once again +and very vividly the scene in the woods by the Bosphorus. He felt that +for a few minutes at least he would rather not enter the park with the +dog by him, and he naturally turned towards the vicarage, not with any +intention of going in, but from sheer force of custom, as people under +the influence of strong emotions often do things unconsciously which they +are in the habit of doing. He walked slowly along, and had almost reached +Mr. Ambrose's pretty old red brick house, when he found himself face to +face with the vicar's wife. She presented an imposing appearance, as +usual; her grey skirt, drawn up a little from the mud, revealed a bright +red petticoat and those stout shoes which she regarded as so essential +to health; she wore moreover a capacious sealskin jacket and a dark +bonnet with certain jet flowers, which for many years had been regarded +by the inhabitants of Billingsfield as the distinctive badge of a +gentlewoman. Mrs. Ambrose was wont to smile and say that they were +indestructible and would last as long as she did. She greeted Mr. Juxon +cordially. + +"How do you, Mr. Juxon--were you going to see us? I was just going for a +walk--perhaps you will come with me?" + +Mr. Juxon turned back and prepared to accompany her. + +"Such good news this morning, from John Short," she said. "He has +finished his examinations, and it seems almost certain that he will be +senior classic. His tutor at Trinity has written already to congratulate +my husband upon his success." + +"I am sure, I am delighted, too," said the squire, who had regained his +composure but kept his hold on Stamboul's collar. "He deserves all he +gets, and more too," he continued. "I think he will be a remarkable man." + +"I did not think you liked him so very much," said Mrs. Ambrose rather +doubtfully, as she walked slowly by his side. + +"Oh--I liked him very much. Indeed, I was going to ask him to stay with +me for a few days at the Hall." + +The inspiration was spontaneous. Mr. Juxon was in a frame of mind in +which he felt that he ought to do something pleasant for somebody, to set +off against the bloodthirsty designs which had passed through his mind in +the morning. He knew that if he had not been over friendly to John, it +had been John's own fault; but since he had found out that it was +impossible to marry Mrs. Goddard, he had forgiven the young scholar his +shortcomings and felt very charitably inclined towards him. It suddenly +struck him that it would give John great pleasure to stop at the Hall for +a few days, and that it would be no inconvenience to himself. The effect +upon Mrs. Ambrose was greater even than he had expected. She was +hospitable, good and kind, but she was also economical, as she had need +to be. The squire was rich. If the squire would put up John during a part +of his visit it would be a kindness to John himself, and an economy to +the vicarage. Mr. Ambrose himself would not have gone to such a length; +but then, as his wife said to herself in self-defence, Augustin did not +pay the butcher's bills, and did not know how the money went. She did not +say that Augustin was precisely what is called reckless, but he of course +did not understand economy as she did. How should he, poor man, with all +his sermons and his funerals and other occupations to take his mind off? +Mrs. Ambrose was delighted at the squire's proposal. + +"Really!" she exclaimed. "That would be too good of you, Mr. Juxon. And +you do not know how it would quite delight him! He loves books so much, +and then you know," she added in a confidential manner, "he has never +stayed in a country house in his life, I am quite sure." + +"And when is he coming down?" asked Mr. Juxon. "I should be very much +pleased to have him." + +"To-morrow, I think," said Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Well--would you ask him from me to come up and stop a week? Can you +spare him, Mrs. Ambrose? I know you are very fond of him, of course, +but--" + +"Oh very," said she warmly. "But I think it likely he will stay some +time," she added in explanation of her willingness to let him go to the +Hall. + +The squire felt vaguely that the presence of a guest in his house would +probably be a restraint upon him, and he felt that some restraint would +be agreeable to him at the present time. + +"Besides," added Mrs. Ambrose, "if you would like to have him +first--there is a little repair necessary in his room at the vicarage--we +have put it off too long--" + +"By all means." said the squire, following out his own train of thought. +"Send him up to me as soon as he comes. If I can manage it I will be down +here to ask him myself." + +"It is so good of you," said Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Not at all. Are you going to the cottage?" + +"Yes--why?" + +"Nothing," said Mr. Juxon. "I did not know whether you would like to walk +on a little farther with me. Good-bye, then. You will tell Short as soon +as he comes, will you not?" + +"Certainly," replied Mrs. Ambrose, still beaming upon him. "I will not +let him unpack his things at the vicarage. Good-bye--so many thanks." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Mrs. Goddard's head ached "terrible bad" according to Martha, and when +the vicar left her she went and lay down upon her bed, with a sensation +that if the worst were not yet over she could bear no more. But she had +an elastic temperament, and the fact of having consulted Mr. Ambrose that +morning had been a greater relief than she herself suspected. She felt +that he could be trusted to save Mr. Juxon from harm and Walter from +capture, and having once confided to him the important secret which had +so heavily weighed upon her mind she felt that the burthen of her +troubles was lightened. Mr. Juxon could take any measures he pleased for +his own safety; he would probably choose to stay at home until the danger +was past. As for her husband, Mary Goddard did not believe that he would +return a third time, for she thought that she had thoroughly frightened +him. It was even likely that he had only thrown out his threat for the +sake of terrifying his wife, and was now far beyond the limits of the +parish. So great was the relief she felt after she had talked with the +vicar that she almost ceased to believe there was any danger at all; +looking at it in the light of her present mood, she almost wondered why +she had thought it necessary to tell Mr. Ambrose--until suddenly a vision +of her friend the squire, attacked and perhaps killed, in his own park, +rose to her mental vision, and she remembered what agonies of fear she +had felt for him until she had sent for the vicar. The latter indeed +seemed to have been a sort of _deus ex maohinâ_ by whom she suddenly +obtained peace of mind and a sense of security in the hour of her +greatest distress. + +All that afternoon she lay upon her bed, while Nellie sat beside her and +read to her, and stroked her hands; for Nellie was in reality +passionately fond of her mother and suffered almost as much at the sight +of her suffering as she could have done had she been in pain herself. +Both Mrs. Goddard and the child started at the sound of Stamboul's +baying, which was unlike anything they had ever heard before, and Nellie +ran to the window. + +"It is only Mr. Juxon and Stamboul having a game," said Nellie. "What a +noise he made, though! Did not he?" + +Poor Nellie--had she had any idea of what the "game" was from which the +squire found it so hard to make his hound desist, she must have gone +almost mad with horror. For the game was her own father, poor child. But +she came back and sat beside her mother utterly unconscious of what might +have happened if Stamboul had once got beyond earshot, galloping along +the trail towards the disused vault at the back of the church. Mrs. +Goddard had started at the sounds and had put her hand to her forehead, +but Nellie's explanation was enough to quiet her, and she smiled faintly +and closed her eyes again. Then, half an hour later, Mrs. Ambrose came, +and would not be denied. She wanted to make Mrs. Goddard comfortable, she +said, when she found she was ill, and she did her best, being a kind and +motherly woman when not hardened by the presence of strangers. She told +her that John was coming on the next day, speaking with vast pride of his +success and omitting to look sternly at Mrs. Goddard as she had formerly +been accustomed to do when she spoke of the young scholar. Then at last +she went away, after exacting a promise from Mrs. Goddard to come and +dine, bringing Nellie with her, on the following day, in case she should +have recovered by that time from her headache. + +But during all that night Mrs. Goddard lay awake, listening for the sound +she so much dreaded, of a creeping footstep on the slated path outside +and for the tapping at the window. Nothing came, however, and as the grey +dawn began to creep in through the white curtains, she fell peacefully +asleep. Nellie would not let her be waked, and breakfasted without her, +enjoying with childish delight the state of being waited on by Martha +alone. + +Meanwhile, at an early hour, John arrived at the vicarage and was +received with open arms by Mr. Ambrose and his wife. The latter seemed to +forget, in the pleasure of seeing him again, that she had even once +spoken doubtfully of him or hinted that he was anything short of +perfection itself. And to prove how much she had done for him she +communicated with great pride the squire's message, to the effect that he +expected John at the Hall that very day. + +John's heart leaped with delight at the idea. It was natural. He was +indeed most sincerely attached to the Ambroses, and most heartily glad to +be with them; but he had never in his life had an opportunity of staying +in a "big" house, as he would have described it. It seemed as though he +were already beginning to taste the sweet first-fruits of success after +all his labour and all his privations; it was the first taste of another +world, the first mouthful of the good things of life which had fallen to +his lot. Instantly there rose before him delicious visions of hot-water +cans brought by a real footman, of luxurious meals served by a real +butler, of soft carpets perpetually beneath his feet, of liberty to +lounge in magnificent chairs in the magnificent library; and last, though +not least, there was a boyish feeling of delight in the thought that when +he went to see Mrs. Goddard he would go from the Hall, that she would +perhaps associate him henceforth with a different kind of existence, in a +word, that he was sure to acquire importance in her eyes from the fact of +his visit to the squire. Many a young fellow of one and twenty is as +familiar with all that money can give and as tired of luxury as a +broken-down hard liver of forty years; for this is an age of luxurious +living. But poor John had hardly ever tasted the least of those things +too familiar to the golden youth of the period to be even noticed. He had +felt when he first entered the little drawing-room of the cottage that +Mrs. Goddard herself belonged, or had belonged, to that delicious unknown +world of ease where the question of expense was never considered, much +less mentioned. In her own eyes she was indeed living in a state +approaching to penury, but the spectacle of her pictures, her furniture +and her bibelots had impressed John with a very different idea. The +squire's invitation, asking him to spend a week at the Hall, seemed in a +moment to put him upon the same level as the woman to whom he believed +himself so devotedly attached. To his mind the ideal woman could not but +be surrounded by a luxurious atmosphere of her own. To enter the charmed +precincts of those surroundings seemed to John equivalent to being +transported from the regions of the Theocritan to the level of the +Anacreontic ode, from the pastoral, of which he had had too much, to the +aristocratic, of which he felt that he could not have enough. It was a +natural feeling in a very young man of his limited experience. + +He stayed some hours at the vicarage. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose thought +him changed in the short time which had elapsed since they had seen him. +He had grown more grave; he was certainly more of a man. The great +contest he had just sustained with so much honour had left upon his young +face its mark, an air of power which had not formerly been visible there; +even his voice seemed to have grown deeper and rounder, and his words +carried more weight. The good vicar, who had seen several generations +of students, already distinguished in John Short the budding "don," and +rubbed his hands with great satisfaction. + +John asked few questions but found himself obliged to answer many +concerning his recent efforts. He would have liked to say something about +Mrs. Goddard, but he remembered with some awe and much aversion the +circumstances in which he had last quitted the vicarage, and he held his +peace; whereby he again rose in Mrs. Ambrose's estimation. He made up for +his silence by speaking effusively of the squire's kindness in asking him +to the Hall; forgetting perhaps the relief he had felt when he escaped +from Billingsfield after Christmas without being again obliged to shake +hands with Mr. Juxon. Things looked very differently now, however. He +felt himself to be somebody in the world, and that distressing sense of +inferiority which had perhaps been at the root of his jealousy against +the squire was gone, swallowed in the sense of triumph. His face was +pale, perhaps, from overwork, but there was a brilliancy in his eyes and +an incisiveness in his speech which came from the confidence of victory. +He now desired nothing more than to meet the squire, feeling sure that he +should receive his congratulations, and though he stayed some hours in +conversation with his old friends, in imagination he was already at the +Hall. The squire had not come down to meet him, as he had proposed, but +he had sent his outlandish American gig with his groom to fetch John. +While he was at the vicarage the latter was probably too much occupied +with conversation to notice that Mr. Ambrose seemed preoccupied and +changed, and the vicar was to some extent recalled to his usual manner by +the presence of his pupil. Mrs. Ambrose had taxed her husband with +concealing something from her ever since the previous day, but the good +man was obstinate and merely said that he felt unaccountably nervous and +irritable, and begged her to excuse his mood. Mrs. Ambrose postponed her +cross-examination until a more favourable opportunity should present +itself. + +John got into the gig and drove away. He was to return with the squire to +dinner in the evening, and he fully expected that Mrs. Goddard and Nellie +would be of the party--it seemed hardly likely that they should be +omitted. Indeed, soon after John had left a note arrived at the vicarage +explaining that Mrs. Goddard was much better and would certainly come, +according to Mrs. Ambrose's very kind invitation. + +It is unnecessary to dwell upon the meeting which took place between Mr. +Juxon and John Short. The squire was hospitable in the extreme and +expressed his great satisfaction at having John under his own roof at +last. He was perhaps, like the vicar, a little nervous, but the young man +did not notice it, being much absorbed by the enjoyment of his good +fortune and of the mental rest he so greatly needed. Mr. Juxon +congratulated him warmly and expressed a hope, amounting to certainty, +that John might actually be at the head of the Tripos; to which John +modestly replied that he would be quite satisfied to be in the first ten, +knowing in his heart that he should be most bitterly disappointed if he +were second to any one. He sat opposite to his host in a deep chair +beside the fire in the library and revelled in comfort and ease, enjoying +every trifle that fell in his way, feeling only a very slight diffidence +in regard to himself for the present and none at all for the future. The +squire was so cordial that he felt himself thoroughly at home. Indeed Mr. +Juxon already rejoiced at his wisdom in asking John to the Hall. The lad +was strong, hopeful, well-balanced in every respect and his presence was +an admirable tonic to the almost morbid state of anxiety in which the +squire had lived ever since his interview with Policeman Gall, two days +before. In the sunshine of John's young personality, fears grew small and +hope grew big. The ideas which had passed through Mr. Juxon's brain on +the previous evening, just after Mr. Ambrose had warned him of Goddard's +intentions, seemed now like the evil shadows of a nightmare. All +apprehension lest the convict should attempt to execute his threats +disappeared like darkness before daylight, and in the course of an hour +or two the squire found himself laughing and chatting with his guest as +though there were no such things as forgery or convicts in the world. The +afternoon passed very pleasantly between the examination of Mr. Juxon's +treasures and the conversation those objects elicited. For John, who was +an accomplished scholar, had next to no knowledge of bibliology and took +delight in seeing for the first time many a rare edition which he had +heard mentioned or had read of in the course of his studies. He would not +have believed that he could be now talking on such friendly terms with a +man for whom he had once felt the strongest antipathy, and Mr. Juxon on +his part felt that in their former meetings he had not done full justice +to the young man's undoubted talents. + +As they drove down to the vicarage that evening Mrs. Goddard's name was +mentioned for the first time. John, with a fine affectation of +indifference, asked how she was. + +"She has not been very well lately," answered Mr. Juxon. + +"What has been the matter?" inquired John, who could not see his +companion's face in the dark shade of the trees. + +"Headache, I believe," returned the squire laconically, and silence +ensued for a few moments. "I should not wonder if it rained again this +evening," he added presently as they passed through the park gate, out +into the road. The sky was black and it was hard to see anything beyond +the yellow streak of light which fell from the lamps and ran along the +road before the gig. + +"If it turns out a fine night, don't come for us. We will walk home," +said the squire to the groom as they descended before the vicarage and +Stamboul, who had sat on the floor between them, sprang down to the +ground. + +John was startled when he met Mrs. Goddard. He was amazed at the change +in her appearance for which no one had prepared him. She met him indeed +very cordially but he felt as though she were not the same woman he had +known so short a time before. There was still in her face that delicate +pathetic expression which had at first charmed him, there was still the +same look in her eyes; but what had formerly seemed so attractive seemed +now exaggerated. Her cheeks looked wan and hollow and there were deep +shadows about her eyes and temples; her lips had lost their colour and +the lines about her mouth had suddenly become apparent where John had not +before suspected them. She looked ten years older as she put her thin +hand in his and smiled pleasantly at his greeting. Some trite phrase +about the "ravages of time" crossed John's mind and gave him a +disagreeable sensation, for which it was hard to account. He felt as +though his dream were suddenly dead and a strange reality had taken life +in its place. Could this be she to whom he had written verses by the +score, at whose smile he had swelled with pride, at whose careless laugh +he had trembled with shame? She was terribly changed, she looked +positively old--what John called old. As he sat by her side talking and +wondering whether he would fall back into those same grooves of +conversation he had associated with her formerly, he felt something akin +to pity for her, which he had certainly never expected to feel. She was +not the same as before--even the tone of her voice was different; she was +gentle, pathetic, endowed even now with many charms, but she was not +the woman he had dreamed of and tried to speak to of the love he fancied +was in his heart. She talked--yes; but there were long pauses, and her +eyes wandered strangely from him, often towards the windows of the +vicarage drawing-room, often towards the doors; her answers were not +always to the point and her interest seemed to flag in what was said. +John could not fail to notice too that both Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon +treated her with the kind of attention which is bestowed upon invalids, +and the vicar's wife was constantly doing something to make her +comfortable, offering her a footstool, shading the light from her eyes, +asking if she felt any draught where she sat. These were things no one +had formerly thought of doing for Mrs. Goddard, who in spite of her sad +face had been used to laugh merrily enough with the rest, and whose lithe +figure had seemed to John the embodiment of youthful activity. At last he +ventured to ask her a question. + +"Have you been ill, Mrs. Goddard?" he inquired in a voice full of +interest. Her soft eyes glanced uneasily at him. He was now the only one +of the party who was not in some degree acquainted with her troubles. + +"Oh no!" she answered nervously. "Only a little headache. It always makes +me quite wretched when I have it." + +"Yes. I often have headaches, too," answered John. "The squire told me as +we came down." + +"What did he tell you?" asked Mrs. Goddard so quickly as to startle her +companion. + +"Oh--only that you had not been very well. Where is it that you suffer?" +he asked sympathetically. "I think it is worst when it seems to be in +the very centre of one's head, like a red-hot nail being driven in with a +hammer--is that like what you feel?" + +"I--yes, I daresay. I don't quite know," she answered, her eyes wandering +uneasily about the room. "I suppose you have dreadful headaches over +your work, do you not, Mr. Short?" she added quickly, feeling that she +must say something. + +"Oh, it is all over now," said John rather proudly. But as he leaned back +in his chair he said to himself that this meeting was not precisely what +he had anticipated; the subject of headaches might have a fine interest +in its way, but he had expected to have talked of more tender things. To +his own great surprise he felt no desire to do so, however. He had not +recovered from the shock of seeing that Mrs. Goddard had grown old. + +"Yes," said she, kindly. "How glad you must be! To have done so +splendidly too--you must feel that you have realised a magnificent +dream." + +"No," said John. "I cannot say I do. I have done the thing I meant to do, +or I have good reason to believe that I have; but I have not realised my +dream. I shall never write any more odes, Mrs. Goddard." + +"Why not? Oh, you mean to me, Mr. Short?" she added with something of her +old manner. "Well, you know, it is much better that you should not." + +"Perhaps so," answered John rather sadly. "I don't know. Frankly, Mrs. +Goddard, did not you sometimes think I was very foolish last Christmas?" + +"Very," she said, smiling at him kindly. "But I think you have changed. I +think you are more of a man, now--you have something more serious--" + +"I used to think I was very serious, and so I was," said John, with the +air of a man who refers to the follies of his long past youth. "Do you +remember how angry I was when you wanted me to skate with Miss Nellie?" + +"Oh, I only said that to teaze you," Mrs. Goddard answered. "I daresay +you would be angry now, if I suggested the same thing." + +"No," said John quietly. "I do not believe I should be. As you say, I +feel very much older now than I did then." + +"The older we grow the more we like youth," said Mary Goddard, +unconsciously uttering one of the fundamental truths of human nature, and +at the same time so precisely striking the current of John's thoughts +that he started. He was wondering within himself why it was that she now +seemed too old for him, whereas a few short months ago she had seemed to +be of his own age. + +"How true that is!" he exclaimed. Mrs. Goddard laughed faintly. + +"You are not old enough to have reached that point yet, Mr. Short," she +said. "Really, here we are moralising like a couple of old philosophers!" + +"This is a moralising season," answered John. "When we last met, it was +all holly-berries and Christmas and plum-pudding." + +"How long ago that seems!" exclaimed the poor lady with a sigh. + +"Ages!" echoed John, sighing in his turn, but not so much for sadness, it +may be, as from relief that the great struggle was over. That time of +anxiety and terrible effort seemed indeed very far removed from him, but +its removal was a cause of joy rather than of sadness. He sighed like a +man who, sitting over his supper, remembers the hard fought race he has +won in the afternoon, feeling yet in his limbs the ability to race and +win again but feeling in his heart the delicious consciousness that the +question of his superiority has been decided beyond all dispute. + +"And now you will stay here a long time, of course," said Mrs. Goddard +presently. + +"I am stopping at the Hall, just now," said John with a distinct sense of +the importance of the fact, "and after a week I shall stay here a few +days. Then I shall go to London to see my father." + +"No one will be so glad as he to hear of your success." + +"No indeed. I really think it is more for his sake that I want to be +actually first," said John. "Do you know, I have so often thought how he +will look when I meet him and tell him I am the senior classic." + +John's voice trembled and as Mrs. Goddard looked at him, she thought she +saw a moisture in his eyes. It pleased her to see it, for it showed that +John Short had more heart than she had imagined. + +"I can fancy that," she said, warmly. "I envy you that moment." + +Presently the squire came over to where they were sitting and joined +them; and then Mrs. Ambrose spoke to John, and Nellie came and asked him +questions. Strange to say John felt none of that annoyance which he +formerly felt when his conversations with Mrs. Goddard were interrupted, +and he talked with Nellie and Mrs. Ambrose quite as readily as with her. +He felt very calm and happy that night, as though he had done with the +hard labour of life. In half an hour he had realised that he was no more +in love with Mrs. Goddard than he was with Mrs. Ambrose, and he was +trying to explain to himself how it was that he had ever believed in such +a palpable absurdity. Love was doubtless blind, he thought, but he was +surely not so blind as to overlook the evidences of Mrs. Goddard's age. +All the dreams of that morning faded away before the sight of her face, +and so deep is the turpitude of the best of human hearts that John was +almost ashamed of having once thought he loved her. That was probably the +best possible proof that his love had been but a boyish fancy. + +What the little party at the vicarage would have been like, if John's +presence had not animated it, would be hard to say. The squire and Mr. +Ambrose treated Mrs. Goddard with the sort of paternal but solemn care +which is usually bestowed either upon great invalids or upon persons +bereaved of some very dear relation. The two elder men occasionally +looked at her and exchanged glances when they were not observed by Mrs. +Ambrose, wondering perhaps what would next befall the unfortunate lady +and whether she could bear much more of the excitement and anxiety to +which she had of late been subjected. On the whole the conversation was +far from being lively, and Mrs. Goddard herself felt that it was a relief +when the hour came for going home. + +The vicar had ordered his dog-cart for her and Nellie, but as the night +had turned out better than had been expected Mr. Juxon's groom had not +come down from the Hall. Both he and John would be glad of the walk; it +had not rained for two days and the roads were dry. + +"Look here," said the squire, as they rose to take their leave, "Mr. +Short had better go as far as the cottage in the dog-cart, to see Mrs. +Goddard home. I will go ahead on foot--I shall probably be there as soon +as you. There is not room for us all, and somebody must go with her, you +know. Besides," he added, "I have got Stamboul with me." + +Mrs. Goddard, who was standing beside the squire, laid her hand +beseechingly upon his arm. + +"Oh, pray don't," she said in low voice. "Why have you not got your +carriage?" + +"Never mind me," he answered in the same tone. "I am all right, I like to +walk." + +Before she could say anything more, he had shaken hands with Mr. and Mrs. +Ambrose and was gone. Perhaps in his general determination to be good to +everybody he fancied that John would enjoy the short drive with Mrs. +Goddard better than the walk with himself. + +But when he was gone, Mrs. Goddard grew very nervous. One of her wraps +could not be found, and while search was being made for it the motherly +Mrs. Ambrose insisted upon giving her something hot, in the way of brandy +and water. She looked very ill, but showed the strongest desire to go. It +was no matter about the shawl, she said; Mr. Ambrose could send it in the +morning; but the thing was found and at last Mrs. Goddard and Nellie and +John got into the dog-cart with old Reynolds and drove off. All these +things consumed some time. + +The squire on the other hand strode briskly forward towards the cottage, +not wishing to keep John waiting for him. As he walked his mind wandered +back to the consideration of the almost tragic events which were +occurring in the peaceful village. He forgot all about John, as he looked +up at the half moon which struggled to give some light through the +driving clouds; he fell to thinking of Mrs. Goddard and to wondering +where her husband might be lying hidden. The road was lonely and he +walked fast, with Stamboul close at his heel. The dog-cart did not +overtake him before he reached the cottage, and he forgot all about it. +By sheer force of habit he opened the white gate and, closing it behind +him, entered the park alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the +vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she +betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave +face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid +since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about +him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to +offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and +had been very much surprised at the squire's sudden determination to walk +home; he would gladly have seized his hat and run after his friend, but +he feared Mrs. Ambrose's curiosity and moreover on reflection felt sure +that the dog-cart would overtake Mr. Juxon before he was half way to the +cottage. He was very far from suspecting him of the absence of mind which +he actually displayed, but it was a great relief to him to see the little +party safe in the dog-cart and on the way homeward. + +Mrs. Goddard was on the front seat with old Reynolds, and John, who would +have preferred to sit by her side a few months ago, was glad to find +himself behind with Nellie. It was a curious instinct, but he felt it +strongly and was almost grateful to the old man for stolidly keeping his +seat. So he sat beside Nellie and talked to her, to the child's intense +delight; she had not enjoyed the evening very much, for she felt the +general sense of oppression as keenly as children always feel such +things, and she had long exhausted the slender stock of illustrated books +which lay upon the table in the vicarage drawing-room. + +"There is no more skating now," said John. "What do you do to amuse +yourselves?" + +"I am studying history with mamma," answered Nellie, "and that takes ever +so much time, you know. And then--oh, we are beginning to think of the +spring, and we look after the violet plants in the frames." + +"It does not feel much like spring," remarked John. + +"No--and mamma has not been well lately, so we have not done much of +anything." + +"Has she been ill long?" asked John. + +"No--oh no! Only the last two or three days, ever since--" Nellie stopped +herself. Her mother had told her not to mention the tramp's visit. + +"Ever since when?" asked John, becoming suddenly interested. + +"Ever since the last time the Ambroses came to tea," said Nellie with a +readiness beyond her years. "But she looks dreadfully, does not she?" + +"Dreadfully," answered John. Then, leaning back and turning his head he +spoke to Mrs. Goddard. "I hope you are quite warm enough?" he said. + +"Quite--thanks," answered she, but her voice sounded tremulous in the +night. It might have been the shaking of the dog-cart. In a few minutes +they drew up before the door of the cottage. John sprang to the ground +and almost lifted Mrs. Goddard from the high seat. + +"Where is Mr. Juxon?" she asked anxiously. + +John looked round, peering into the gloom. A black cloud driven by the +strong east wind was passing over the moon, and for some moments it was +almost impossible to see anything. The squire was nowhere to be seen. +John turned and helped Nellie off the back seat of the dog-cart. + +"I am afraid we must have passed him," he said quietly. Formerly Mrs. +Goddard's tone of anxiety as she asked for the squire would have roused +John's resentment; he now thought nothing of it. Reynolds prepared to +move off. + +"Won't you please wait a moment, Reynolds?" said Mrs. Goddard, going +close to the old man. She could not have told why she asked him to stay, +it was a nervous impulse. + +"Why?" asked John. "You know I am going to the Hall." + +"Yes, of course. I only thought, perhaps, you and Mr. Juxon would like to +drive up--it is so dark. I am sure Mr. Ambrose would not mind you taking +the gentlemen up to the Hall, Reynolds?" + +"No m'm. I'm quite sure as he wouldn't," exclaimed Reynolds with great +alacrity. He immediately had visions of a pint of beer in the Hall +kitchen. + +"You do not think Mr. Juxon may have gone on alone, Mr. Short?" said Mrs. +Goddard, leaning upon the wicket gate. Her face looked very pale in the +gloom. + +"No--at would be very odd if he did," replied John, who had his hands in +his greatcoat pockets and slowly stamped one foot after another on the +hard ground, to keep himself warm. + +"Then we must have passed him on the road," said Mrs. Goddard. "But I was +so sure I saw nobody--" + +"I think he will come presently," answered John in a reassuring tone. +"Why do you wait, Mrs. Goddard? You must be cold, and it is dangerous for +you to be out here. Don't wait, Reynolds," he added; "we will walk up." + +"Oh please don't," cried Mrs. Goddard, imploringly. + +John looked at her in some surprise. The cloud suddenly passed from +before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly. +He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he +supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition. Reynolds +on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but +sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry, +the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a +feeble and antiquated fashion. For some minutes there was total silence. +Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save +the strong east wind rushing past the cottage and losing itself among the +withered oaks of the park opposite. + +Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air. +Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul!" The squire's ringing voice was heard far up the +park. The bloodhound's distant baying suddenly ceased. John thought he +heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the +sighing wind. Then there was silence again. Mrs. Goddard leaned back +against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed +close to her mother's side. + +"Why--he has gone up the park!" exclaimed John in great surprise. "He was +calling to his dog--" + +"Oh, Mr. Short!" cried Mrs. Goddard in agonised tones, as soon as she +could speak, "I am sure something dreadful has happened--do go. Mr. +Short--do go and see--" + +Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon +John. + +"Stay with Mrs. Goddard, Reynolds," he said quickly and darted across the +road towards the park gate. John was strong and active. He laid his +hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the +top of his speed up the dark avenue. + +Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone, +swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel +in the gloom. He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the +afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he +had felt before his guest's coming. But in the short walk of scarcely +half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become +entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. Goddard's strange position, and for +the moment John was quite forgotten. He entered the park and the long +iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a +sharp click. Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly +behind him. At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned +sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground, +where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere. As he came towards this +hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him. Had the wind been +in the opposite direction, Stamboul's sharp nostrils would have scented +danger. As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire's +heels. The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as +has been seen, by a sweeping cloud. The squire turned to the right and +tramped along the hard road. + +At the darkest spot in the way a man sprang out suddenly before him and +struck a quick blow at his head with something heavy. But it was very +dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded +frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it passed +and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side. +At the same instant--it all happened in the space of two seconds, +Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the +shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent +him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he +leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the +murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover +himself and turn to spring again, Walter Goddard, who had chanced never +to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and +fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before +the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the +bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying +note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the +ditch and followed him into the gloom. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty +yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream +broke the silence. + +A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the +prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no +easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the +moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees +upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his +heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for +an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim +limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul +writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire +glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering +moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly +wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was. + +It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man +thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his +strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was +impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he +should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the +scene of the disaster. + +"Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park. + +"This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's +quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a +moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he +saw. + +"Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he +added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr. +Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is +alive?" + +John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by +Goddard's body and looked into his face. + +"Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it +seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or +dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and +felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all +living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter +Goddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not +distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground. + +"I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and +drew back a little way from the body. + +"Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon, +and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul +by his side. + +John shuddered when he was left alone. It was indeed a dismal scene +enough. At his feet lay Walter Goddard's body, faintly illuminated by the +struggling moonbeams; all around and overhead the east wind was howling +and whistling and sighing in the dry oak branches, whirling hither and +thither the few brown leaves that had clung to their hold throughout the +long winter; the sound of the squire's rapidly retreating footsteps grew +more faint in the distance; John felt that he was alone and was very +uncomfortable. He would have liked to go back to the cottage and tell +Mrs. Goddard of what had happened, and that Mr. Juxon was safe; but he +thought the squire might return and find that he had left his post and +accuse him of cowardice. He drew back from the man's body and sheltered +himself from the wind, leaning against the broad trunk of an old oak +tree. He had not stood thus many minutes when he heard the sound of +wheels upon the hard road. It might be Mrs. Goddard, he thought. With one +more glance at the prostrate body, he turned away and hurried through the +trees towards the avenue. The bright lamps of the dog-cart were almost +close before him. He shouted to Reynolds. + +"Whoa, January!" ejaculated that ancient functionary as he pulled up +Strawberry close to John Short. Why the natives of Essex and especially +of Billingsfield habitually address their beasts of burden as "January" +is a matter best left to the discrimination of philologers; obedient to +the familiar words however, Strawberry stood still in the middle of the +road. John could see that Mrs. Goddard was seated by the side of Reynolds +but that Nellie was not in the cart. + +"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, is that you?" said John. "Mr. Juxon will be here in a +moment. Don't be frightened--he is not hurt in the least; awfully bad +luck for the tramp, though!" + +"The tramp?" repeated Mrs. Goddard with a faint cry of horror. + +"Yes," said John, whose spirits rose wonderfully in the light of the +dog-cart lamps. "There was a poor tramp hanging about the park--poaching, +very likely--and Mr. Juxon's dog got after him, somehow, I suppose. I do +not know how it happened, but when I came up--oh! here is Mr. Juxon +himself--he will tell you all about it." + +The squire came up in breathless haste, having locked Stamboul into the +house. + +"Good Heavens! Mrs. Goddard!" he ejaculated in a tone of profound +surprise. But Mrs. Goddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the +step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's +shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had +fainted. The old man seemed not to comprehend what had happened; he +had never experienced the sensation of having a lady leaning upon his +shoulder, and he looked down at her with a half idiotic smile on his +deeply furrowed face. + +"She's took wuss, sir," he remarked. "She was all for comin' up the park +as soon as Master John was gone. She warn't feelin' herself o' no account +t' evenin'." + +"Look here, Mr. Short," said the squire decisively. "I must ask you to +take Mrs. Goddard home again and call her women to look after her. I +fancy she will come to herself before long. Do you mind?" + +"Not in the least," said John cheerfully, mounting at the back of the +dog-cart. + +"And--Reynolds--bring Mr. Short back to the Hall immediately, please, and +you shall have some beer." + +"All right, sir." + +John supported the fainting lady with one arm, turning round upon his +seat at the back. Old Strawberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and +trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going +home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter +Goddard had fallen. + +The squire knelt down and tried to ascertain the extent of the man's +injuries; as far as he could see there was a bad wound at his throat, and +one hand was much mangled. But there seemed to have been no great flow of +blood. He tore open the smock-frock and shirt and put his ear to the +heart. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear it beat. Walter Goddard was +alive still--alive to live for years perhaps, the squire reflected; to +live in a prison, it was true, but to live. To describe his feelings in +that moment would be impossible. Had he found the convict dead, it would +be useless to deny that he would have felt a very great satisfaction, +tempered perhaps by some pity for the wretched man's miserable end, but +still very great. It would have seemed such a just end, after all; to be +killed in the attempt to kill, and to have died not by the squire's hand +but by the sharp strong jaws of the hound who had once before saved the +squire's life. But he was alive. It would not take much to kill him; a +little pressure on his wounded throat would be enough. Even to leave +him there, uncared for, till morning in the bleak wind, lying upon the +cold ground, would be almost certain to put an end to his life. But to +the honour of Charles James Juxon be it said that such thoughts never +crossed his mind. He pulled off his heavy ulster greatcoat, wrapped it +about the felon's insensible body, then, kneeling, raised up his head and +shoulders, got his strong arms well round him and with some difficulty +rose to his feet. Once upright, it was no hard matter to carry his +burthen through the trees to the road, and up the avenue to his own door. + +"Holmes," said Mr. Juxon to his butler, "this man is badly hurt, but he +is alive. Help me to carry him upstairs." + +There was that in the squire's voice which brooked neither question nor +delay when he was in earnest. The solemn butler took Walter Goddard by +the feet and the squire took him by the shoulders; so they carried him up +to a bedroom and laid him down, feeling for the bed in the dark as they +moved. Holmes then lit a candle with great calmness. + +"Shall I send for the medical man, sir?" he asked quietly. + +"Yes. Send the gig as fast as possible. If he is not at home, or cannot +be found, send on to the town. If anybody asks questions say the man is a +tramp who attacked me in the park and Stamboul pulled him down. Send at +once, and bring me some brandy and light the fire here." + +"Yes, sir," said Holmes, and left the room. + +Mr. Juxon lighted other candles and examined the injured man. There was +now no doubt that he was alive. He breathed faintly but regularly; his +pulse beat less rapidly and more firmly. His face was deadly pale and +very thin, and his half-opened eyes stared unconsciously upwards, but +they were not glazed nor death-like. He seemed to have lost little +blood, comparatively speaking. + +"Bah!" ejaculated the squire. "I believe he is only badly frightened, +after all." + +Holmes brought brandy and warm water and again left the room. Mr. Juxon +bathed Goddard's face and neck with a sponge, eying him suspiciously all +the while. It would not have surprised him at any moment if he had leaped +from the bed and attempted to escape. To guard against surprise, the +squire locked the door and put the key in his pocket, watching the +convict to see whether he noticed the act or was really unconscious. But +Goddard never moved nor turned his motionless eyeballs. Mr. Juxon +returned to his side, and with infinite care began to remove his clothes. +They were almost in rags. He examined each article, and was surprised to +find money in the pockets, amounting to nearly sixty pounds; then he +smiled to himself, remembering that the convict had visited his wife and +had doubtless got the money from her to aid him in his escape. He put the +notes and gold carefully together in a drawer after counting them, and +returning to his occupation succeeded at last in putting Goddard to bed, +after staunching his wounds as well as he could with handkerchiefs. + +He stood long by the bedside, watching the man's regular breathing, and +examining his face attentively. Many strange thoughts passed through his +mind, as he stood there, looking at the man who had caused such misery to +himself, such shame and sorrow to his fair wife, such disappointment to +the honest man who was now trying to save him from the very grasp of +death. So this was Mary Goddard's husband, little Nellie's father--this +grimy wretch, whose foul rags lay heaped there in the corner, whose +miserable head pressed the spotless linen of the pillow, whose +half-closed eyes stared up so senselessly at the squire's face. This was +the man for whose sake Mary Goddard started and turned pale, fainted and +grew sick, languished and suffered so much pain. No wonder she concealed +it from Nellie--no wonder she had feared lest after many years he should +come back and claim her for his wife--no wonder either that a man with +such a face should do bad deeds. + +Mr. Juxon was a judge of faces; persons accustomed for many years to +command men usually are. He noted Walter Goddard's narrow jaw and pointed +chin, his eyes set near together, his wicked lips, parted and revealing +sharp jagged teeth, his ill-shaped ears and shallow temples, his flat low +forehead, shown off by his cropped hair. And yet this man had once been +called handsome, he had been admired and courted. But then his hair had +hidden the shape of his head, his long golden moustache had covered his +mouth and disguised all his lower features, he had been arrayed by +tailors of artistic merit, and he had had much gold in his pockets. He +was a very different object now--the escaped convict, close cropped, with +a half-grown beard upon his ill-shaped face, and for all ornament a linen +sheet drawn up under his chin. + +The squire was surprised that he did not recover consciousness, seeing +that he breathed regularly and was no longer so pale as at first. A faint +flush seemed to rise to his sunken cheeks, and for a long time Mr. Juxon +stood beside him, expecting every moment that he would speak. Once he +thought his lips moved a little. Then Mr. Juxon took a little brandy in a +spoon and raising his head poured it down his throat. The effect was +immediate. Goddard opened wide his eyes, the blood mounted to his cheeks +with a deep flush, and he uttered an inarticulate sound. + +"What did you say?" asked the squire, bending over him. + +But there was no answer. The sick man's head fell back upon the pillow, +though his eyes remained wide open and the flush did not leave his +cheeks. His pulse was now very high, and his breathing grew heavy and +stertorous. + +"I hope I have not made him any worse," remarked Mr. Juxon aloud, as he +contemplated his patient. "But if he is going to die, I wish he would die +now." + +The thought was charitable, on the whole. If Walter Goddard died then and +there, he would be buried in a nameless grave under the shadow of the +old church; no one would ever know that he was the celebrated forger, the +escaped convict, the husband of Mary Goddard. If he lived--heaven alone +knew what complications would follow if he lived. + +There was a knock at the door. Mr. Juxon drew the key from his pocket and +opened it. Holmes the butler stood outside. + +"Mr. Short has come back, sir. He asked if you wished to see him." + +"Ask him to come here," replied the squire, to whom the tension of +keeping his solitary watch was becoming very irksome. In a few moments +John entered the room, looking pale and nervous. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +John Short was in absolute ignorance of what was occurring. He attributed +Mrs. Goddard's anxiety to her solicitude for Mr. Juxon, and if he had +found time to give the matter serious consideration, he would have argued +very naturally that she was fond of the squire. It had been less easy +than the latter had supposed to take her home and persuade her to stay +there, for she was in a state in which she hardly understood reason. +Nothing but John's repeated assurances to the effect that Mr. Juxon was +not in the least hurt, and that he would send her word of the condition +of the wounded tramp, prevailed upon her to remain at the cottage; for +she had come back to consciousness before the dog-cart was fairly out of +the park and had almost refused to enter her own home. + +The catastrophe had happened, after eight and forty hours of suspense, +and her position was one of extreme fear and doubt. She had indeed seen +the squire at the very moment when she fainted, but the impression was +uncertain as that of a dream, and it required all John's asseverations to +persuade her that Mr. Juxon had actually met her and insisted that she +should return to the cottage. Once there, in her own house, she abandoned +herself to the wildest excitement, shutting herself into the drawing-room +and refusing to see anyone; she gave way to all her sorrow and fear, +feeling that if she controlled herself any longer she must go mad. Indeed +it was the best thing she could do, for her nerves were overstrained, and +the hysterical weeping which now completely overpowered her for some +time, was the natural relief to her overwrought system. She had not the +slightest doubt that the tramp of whom John had spoken, and whom he had +described as badly hurt, was her husband; and together with her joy at +Mr. Juxon's escape, she felt an intolerable anxiety to know Walter's +fate. If in ordinary circumstances she had been informed that he had died +in prison, it would have been absurd to expect her to give way to any +expressions of excessive grief; she would perhaps have shed a few womanly +tears and for some time she would have been more sad than usual; but she +no longer loved him and his death could only be regarded as a release +from all manner of trouble and shame and evil foreboding. With his +decease would have ended her fears for poor Nellie, her apprehensions for +the future in case he should return and claim her, the whole weight of +her humiliation, and if she was too kind to have rejoiced over such a +termination of her woes, she was yet too sensible not to have fully +understood and appreciated the fact of her liberation and of the freedom +given to the child she loved, by the death of a father whose return could +bring nothing but disgrace. But now she did not know whether Walter were +alive or dead. If he was alive he was probably so much injured as to +preclude all possibility of his escaping, and he must inevitably be given +up to justice, no longer to imprisonment merely, but by his own +confession to suffer the death of a murderer. If on the other hand he +was already dead, he had died a death less shameful indeed, but of which +the circumstances were too horrible for his wife to contemplate, for he +must have been torn to pieces by Stamboul the bloodhound. + +She unconsciously comprehended all these considerations, which entirely +deprived her of the power to weigh them in her mind, for her mind was +temporarily loosed from all control of the reasoning faculty. She had +borne much during the last three days, but she could bear no more; +intellect and sensibility were alike exhausted and gave way together. +There were indeed moments, intervals in the fits of hysteric tears +and acute mental torture, when she lay quite still in her chair and +vaguely asked herself what it all meant, but her disturbed consciousness +gave no answer to the question, and presently her tears broke out afresh +and she tossed wildly from side to side, or walked hurriedly up and down +the room, wringing her hands in despair, sobbing aloud in her agony and +again abandoning herself to the uncontrolled exaggerations of her grief +and terror. One consolation alone presented itself at intervals to her +confused intelligence; Mr. Juxon was safe. Whatever other fearful thing +had happened, he was safe, saved perhaps by her warning--but what was +that, if Walter had escaped death only to die at the hands of the +hangman, or had found it in the jaws of that fearful bloodhound? What was +the safety even of her best friend, if poor Nellie was to know that her +father was alive, only to learn that he was to die again? + +But human suffering cannot outlast human strength; as a marvellous +adjustment of forces has ordered that even at the pole, in the regions of +boundless and perpetual cold, the sea shall not freeze to the bottom, so +there is also in human nature a point beyond which suffering cannot +extend. The wildest emotions must expend themselves in time, the fiercest +passions must burn out. At the end of two hours Mary Goddard was +exhausted by the vehemence of her hysteric fear, and woke as from a dream +to a dull sense of reality. She knew, now that some power of reflection +was restored to her, that the squire would give her intelligence of what +had happened, so soon as he was able, and she knew also that she must +wait until the morning before any such message could reach her. She took +the candle from the table and went upstairs. Nellie was asleep, but her +mother felt a longing to look at her again that night, not knowing what +misery for her child the morrow might bring forth. + +Nellie lay asleep in her bed, her rich brown hair plaited together and +thrown back across the pillow. The long dark fringes of her eyelashes +cast a shade upon the transparent colour of her cheek, and the light +breath came softly through her parted lips. But as Mary Goddard looked +she saw that there were still tears upon her lovely face and that the +pillow was still wet. She had cried herself to sleep, for Martha had told +her that her mother was very ill and would not see her that night; Nellie +was accustomed to say her prayers at her mother's knee every evening +before going to bed, she was used to having her mother smooth her pillow +and kiss her and put out her light, leaving her with sweet words, to wake +her with sweet words on the next morning, and to-night she had missed all +this and had been told moreover that her mother was very ill and was +acting very strangely. She had gone to bed and had cried herself to +sleep, and the tears were still upon her cheeks. Shading the light +carefully from the child's eyes, Mary Goddard bent down and kissed her +forehead once and then feeling that her sorrow was rising again she +turned and passed noiselessly from the room. + +But Nellie was dreaming peacefully and knew nothing of her mother's +visit; she slept on not knowing that scarcely a quarter of a mile away +her own father, whom she had been taught to think of as dead, was +lying at the Hall, wounded and unconscious while half the detectives in +the kingdom were looking for him. Had Nellie known that, her sleep would +have been little and her dreams few. + +There was little rest at the Hall that night. When Reynolds had driven +John back to the great house he found his way to the kitchen and got his +beer, and he became at once a centre of interest, being overwhelmed with +questions concerning the events of the evening. But he was able to say +very little except that while waiting before the cottage he had heard +strange noises from the park, that Master John had run up the avenue, +that Mrs. Goddard had taken Miss Nellie into the house and had then +insisted upon being driven towards the Hall, that they had met Master +John and the squire and that Mrs. Goddard had been "took wuss." + +Meanwhile John entered the room where Mr. Juxon was watching over Walter +Goddard. John looked pale and nervous; he had not recovered from the +unpleasant sensation of being left alone with what he believed to be a +dead body, in the struggling moonlight and the howling wind. He was by no +means timid by nature, but young nerves are not so tough as old ones and +he had felt exceedingly uncomfortable. He stood a moment within the room, +then glanced at the bed and started with surprise. + +"Why--he is not dead after all!" he exclaimed, and going nearer he looked +hard at Goddard's flushed face. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon, "he is not dead. He may be dying for all I know. I +have sent for the doctor." + +"Was he much hurt?" asked John, still looking at the sick man. "He looks +to me as though he were in a fever." + +"He does not seem so badly hurt. I cannot make it out at all. At first I +thought he was badly frightened, but I cannot bring him to consciousness. +Perhaps he has a fever, as you say. This is a most unpleasant experience, +Mr. Short--your first night at the Hall, too. Of course I am bound to +look after the man, as Stamboul did the damage--it would have served him +right if he had been killed. It was a villainous blow he gave me--I can +feel it still. The moral of it is that one should always wear a thick +ulster when one walks alone at night." + +"I did not know he struck you," said John in some surprise. + +"Jumped out of the copse at the turning and struck at me with a +bludgeon," said Mr. Juxon. "Knocked my hat off, into the bargain, and +then ran away with Stamboul after him. If I had not come up in time +there would have been nothing left of him." + +"I should say the dog saved your life," remarked John, much impressed by +the squire's unadorned tale. "What object can the fellow have had in +attacking you? Strange--his eyes are open, but he does not seem to +understand us." + +Mr. Juxon walked to the bedside and contemplated the sick man's features +with undisguised disgust. + +"You villain!" he said roughly. "Why don't you answer for yourself?" The +man did not move, and the squire began to pace the room. John was struck +by Mr. Juxon's tone: it was not like him, he thought, to speak in that +way to a helpless creature. He could not understand it. There was a long +silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Goddard. + +"Really, Mr. Short," said the squire at last, "I have no intention of +keeping you up all night. The village doctor must have been out. It may +be more than an hour before my man finds another." + +"Never mind," said John quietly. "I will wait till he comes at all +events. You may need me before it is over." + +"Do you think he looks as if he were going to die?" asked the squire +doubtfully, as he again approached the bedside. + +"I don't know," answered John, standing on the other side. "I never saw +any one die. He looks very ill." + +"Very ill. I have seen many people die--but somehow I have a strong +impression that this fellow will live." + +"Let us hope so," said John. + +"Well--" The squire checked himself. Probably the hope he would have +expressed would not have coincided with that to which John had given +utterance. "Well," he repeated, "I daresay he will. Mr. Short, are you at +all nervous? Since you are so good as to say you will wait until the +doctor comes, would you mind very much being left alone here for five +minutes?" + +"No," answered John, stoutly, "not in the least." To be left in a +well-lighted room by the bedside of Walter Goddard, ill indeed, but alive +and breathing vigorously, was very different from being requested to +watch his apparently dead body out in the park under the moonlight. + +With a word of thanks, the squire left the room, and hastened to his +study, where he proceeded to write a note, as follows:-- + +"MY DEAR MR. AMBROSE--The man we were speaking of yesterday morning +actually attacked me this evening. Stamboul worried him badly, but he is +not dead. He is lying here, well cared for, and I have sent for the +doctor. If convenient to you, would you come in the morning? I need not +recommend discretion.--Sincerely yours, + +"C.J. JUXON. +_N.B._--I am not hurt." + +Having ascertained that Reynolds was still in the kitchen, the missive +was given to the old man with an injunction to use all speed, as the +vicar might be going to bed and the note was important. + +John, meanwhile, being left alone sat down near the wounded man's bed and +waited, glancing at the flushed face and staring eyes from time to time, +and wondering whether the fellow would recover. The young scholar had +been startled by all that had occurred, and his ideas wandered back to +the beginning of the evening, scarcely realising that a few hours ago he +had not met Mrs. Goddard, had not experienced a surprising change in his +feelings towards her, had not witnessed the strange scene under the +trees. It seemed as though all these things had occupied a week at the +very least, whereas on that same afternoon he had been speculating upon +his meeting with Mrs. Goddard, calling up her features to his mind as he +had last seen them, framing speeches which when the meeting came he had +not delivered, letting his mind run riot in the delicious anticipation of +appearing before her in the light of a successful competitor for one of +the greatest honours of English scholarship. And yet in a few hours all +his feelings were changed, and to his infinite surprise, were changed +without any suffering to himself; he knew well that, for some reason, +Mrs. Goddard had lost the mysterious power of making him blush, and of +sending strange thrills through his whole nature when he sat at her side; +with some justice he attributed his new indifference to the extraordinary +alteration in her appearance, whereby she seemed now so much older than +himself, and he forthwith moralised upon the mutability of human affairs, +with all the mental fluency of a very young man whose affairs are still +extremely mutable. He fell to musing on the accident in the park, +wondering how he would have acted in Mr. Juxon's place, wondering +especially what object could have led the wretched tramp to attack the +squire, wondering too at the very great anxiety shown by Mrs. Goddard. + +As he sat by the bedside, the sick man suddenly moved and turning his +eyes full upon John's face stared at him with a look of dazed surprise. +He thrust out his wounded hand, bound up in a white handkerchief through +which a little blood was slowly oozing, and to John's infinite surprise +he spoke. + +"Who are you?" he asked in a strange, mumbling voice, as though he had +pebbles in his mouth. + +John started forward in his chair and looked intently at Goddard's face. + +"My name is Short," he answered mechanically. But the passing flash of +intelligence was already gone, and Goddard's look became a glassy and +idiotic stare. Still his lips moved. John came nearer and listened. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" said the sick man quite +intelligibly, in spite of his uncertain tone. John uttered an exclamation +of astonishment; his heart beat fast and he listened intently. The sick +man mumbled inarticulate sounds; not another word could be distinguished. +John looked for the bell, thinking that Mr. Juxon should be informed of +the strange phenomenon at once; but before he could ring the squire +himself entered the room, having finished and despatched his note to Mr. +Ambrose. + +"It is most extraordinary," said John. "He spoke just now--" + +"What did he say?" asked Mr. Juxon very quickly. + +"He said first, 'Who are you?' and then he said 'Mary Goddard, let me +in!' Is it not most extraordinary? How in the world should he know +about Mrs. Goddard?" + +The squire turned a little pale and was silent for a moment. He had left +John with the wounded man feeling sure that, for some time at least, the +latter would not be likely to say anything intelligible. + +"Most extraordinary!" he repeated presently. Then he looked at Goddard +closely, and turned him again upon his back and put his injured hand +beneath the sheet. + +"Do you understand me? Do you know who I am?" he asked in a loud tone +close to his ear. + +But the unfortunate man gave no sign of intelligence, only his +inarticulate mumbling grew louder though not more distinct. Mr. Juxon +turned away impatiently. + +"The fellow is in a delirium," he said. "I wish the doctor would come." +He had hardly turned his back when the man spoke again. + +"Mary Goddard!" he cried. "Let me in!" + +"There!" said John. "The same words!" + +Mr. Juxon shuddered, and looked curiously at his companion; then thrust +his hands into his pockets and whistling softly walked about the room. +John was shocked at what seemed in the squire a sort of indecent levity; +he could not understand that his friend felt as though he should go mad. + +Indeed the squire suffered intensely. The name of Mary Goddard, +pronounced by the convict in his delirium brought home more vividly than +anything could have done the relation between the wounded tramp and the +woman the squire loved. It was positively true, then--there was not a +shadow of doubt left, since this wretch lay there mumbling her name in +his ravings! This was the husband of that gentle creature with sad +pathetic eyes, so delicate, so refined that it seemed as though the +coarser breath of the world of sin and shame could never come near +her--this was her husband! It was horrible. This was the father of lovely +Nellie, too. Was anything wanting to make the contrast more hideous? + +Mr. Juxon felt that it was impossible to foresee what Walter Goddard +might say in the course of another hour. He had often seen people in a +delirium and knew how strangely that inarticulate murmuring sometimes +breaks off into sudden incisive speech, astonishing every one who hears. +The man had already betrayed that he knew Mary Goddard; at the next +interval in his ravings he might betray that she was his wife. John was +still standing by the bedside, not having recovered from his +astonishment; if John heard any more, he would be in possession of Mrs. +Goddard's secret. The squire was an energetic man, equal to most +emergencies; he suddenly made up his mind. + +"Mr. Short," he said, "I will tell you something. You will see the +propriety of being very discreet, in fact it is only to ensure your +discretion that I wish to tell you this much. I have reason to believe +that this fellow is a convict--do not be surprised--escaped from prison. +He is a man who once--was in love with Mrs. Goddard, which accounts for +his having found his way to Billingsfield. Yes--I know what you are going +to say--Mrs. Goddard is aware of his presence, and that accounts for her +excitement and her fainting. Do you understand?" + +"But--good heavens!" exclaimed John in amazement. "Why did she not give +information, if she knew he was in the neighbourhood?" + +"That would be more than could be expected of any woman, Mr. Short. You +forget that the man once loved her." + +"And how did you--well, no. I won't ask any questions." + +"No," said the squire, "please don't. You would be placing me in a +disagreeable position. Not that I do not trust you implicitly, Mr. +Short," he added frankly, "but I should be betraying a confidence. If +this fellow dies here, he will be buried as an unknown tramp. I found no +trace of a name upon his clothes. If he recovers, we will decide what +course to pursue. We will do our best for him--it is a delicate case of +conscience. Possibly the poor fellow would very much prefer being allowed +to die; but we cannot let him. Humanity, for some unexplained reason, +forbids euthanasia and the use of the hemlock in such cases." + +"Was he sentenced for a long time?" asked John, very much impressed by +the gravity of the situation. + +"Twelve years originally, I believe. Aggravated by his escape and by his +assault on me, his term might very likely be extended to twenty years if +he were taken again." + +"That is to say, if he recovers?" inquired John. + +"Precisely. I do not think I would hesitate to send him back to prison if +he recovered." + +"I do not wonder you think he would rather die here, if he were +consulted," said John. "It would not be murder to let him die +peacefully--" + +"In the opinion of the law it might be called manslaughter, though I do +not suppose anything would be said if I had simply placed him here and +omitted to call in a physician. He cannot live very long in this state, +unless something is done for him immediately. Look at him." + +There was no apparent change in Goddard's condition. He lay upon his back +staring straight upward and mumbling aloud with every breath he drew. + +"He must have been ill, before he attacked me," continued Mr. Juxon, very +much as though he were talking to himself. "He evidently is in a raging +fever--brain fever I should think. That is probably the reason why he +missed his aim--that and the darkness. If he had been well he would have +killed me fast enough with that bludgeon. As you say, Mr. Short, there is +no doubt whatever that he would prefer to die here, if he had his choice. +In my opinion, too, it would be far more merciful to him and to--to him +in fact. Nevertheless, neither you nor I would like to remember that we +had let him die without doing all we could to keep him alive. It is +a very singular case." + +"Most singular," echoed John. + +"Besides--there is another thing. Suppose that he had attacked me as he +did, but that I had killed him with my stick--or that Stamboul had made +an end of him then and there. The law would have said it served him +right--would it not? Of course. But if I had not quite killed him, or, as +has actually happened, he survived the embraces of my dog, the law +insists that I ought to do everything in my power to save the remnant of +his life. What for? In order that the law may give itself the +satisfaction of dealing with him according to its lights. I think the law +is very greedy, I object to it, I think it is ridiculous from that point +of view, but then, when I come to examine the thing I find that my own +conscience tells me to save him, although I think it best that he should +die. Therefore the law is not ridiculous. Pleasant dilemma--the +impossible case! The law is at the same time ridiculous and not +ridiculous. The question is, does the law deduce itself from conscience, +or is conscience the direct result of existing law?" + +The squire appeared to be in a strangely moralising mood, and John +listened to him with some surprise. He could not understand that the good +man was talking to persuade himself, and to concentrate his faculties, +which had been almost unbalanced by the events of the evening. + +"I think," said John with remarkable good sense, "that the instinct of +man is to preserve life when he is calm. When a man is fighting with +another he is hot and tries to kill his enemy; when the fight is over, +the natural instinct returns." + +"The only thing worth knowing in such cases is the precise point at which +the fight may be said to be over. I once knew a young surgeon in India +who thought he had killed a cobra and proceeded to extract the fangs in +order to examine the poison. Unfortunately the snake was not quite dead; +he bit the surgeon in the finger and the poor fellow died in +thirty-five minutes." + +"Dreadful!" said John. "But you do not think this poor fellow could do +anything very dangerous now--do you?" + +"Oh, dear me, no!" returned the squire. "I was only stating a case to +prove that one is sometimes justified in going quite to the end of a +fight. No indeed! He will not be dangerous for some time, if he ever is +again. But, as I was saying, he must have been ill some time. Delirium +never comes on in this way, so soon--" + +Some one knocked at the door. It was Holmes, who came to say that the +physician, Doctor Longstreet, had arrived. + +"Oh--it is Doctor Longstreet is it?" said the squire. "Ask him to come +up." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Doctor Longstreet was not the freethinking physician of Billingsfield. +The latter was out when Mr. Juxon's groom went in search of him, and the +man had driven on to the town, six miles away. The doctor was an old man +with a bright eye, a deeply furrowed forehead, a bald head and clean +shaved face. He walked as though his frame were set together with springs +and there was a curious snapping quickness in his speech. He seemed full +of vitality and bore his years with a jaunty air of merriment which +inspired confidence, for he seemed perpetually laughing at the ills of +the flesh and ready to make other people laugh at them too. But his +bright eyes had a penetrating look and though he judged quickly he +generally was right in his opinion. He entered the room briskly, not +knowing that the sick man was there. + +"Now, Mr. Juxon," he said cheerfully, "I am with you." He had the habit +of announcing his presence in this fashion, as though his brisk and +active personality were likely to be overlooked. A moment later he caught +sight of the bed. "Dear me," he added in a lower voice, "I did not know +our patient was here." + +He went to Walter Goddard's side, looked at him attentively, felt his +pulse, and his forehead, glanced at the bandages the squire had roughly +put upon his throat and hand, drew up the sheet again beneath his chin +and turned sharply round. + +"Brain fever, sir," he said cheerfully. "Brain fever. You must get some +ice and have some beef tea made as soon as possible. He is in a very +bad way--curious, too; he looks like a cross between a ticket of leave +man and a gentleman. Tramp, you say? That would not prevent his being +either. You cannot disturb him--don't be afraid. He hears nothing--is +off, the Lord knows where, raving delirious. Must look to his scratches +though--dangerous--inflammation. Do you mind telling me what +happened--how long he has been here?" + +The squire in a few words informed Doctor Longstreet of the attack made +upon him in the park. The doctor looked at his watch. + +"Only two hours and a half since," he remarked. "It is just midnight now, +very good--the man must have been in a fever all day--yesterday, too, +perhaps. He is not badly hurt by the dog--like to see that dog, if you +don't mind--the fright most likely sent him into delirium. You have +nothing to accuse yourself of, Mr. Juxon: it was certainly not your +fault. Even if the dog had not bitten him, he would most likely have been +in his present state by this time. Would you mind sending for some ice at +once? Thank you. It was very lucky for the fellow that he attacked you +just when he did--secured him the chance of being well taken care of. If +he had gone off like this in the park he would have been dead before +morning." + +The squire rang and sent for the ice the doctor demanded. + +"Do you think he will live?" he asked nervously. + +"I don't know," answered Doctor Longstreet, frankly. "Nobody can tell. He +is very much exhausted--may live two or three days in this state and then +die or go to sleep and get well--may die in the morning--often do--cannot +say. With a great deal of care, I think he has a chance." + +"I am very anxious to save him," said the squire, looking hard at the +physician. + +"Very good of you, I am sure," replied Doctor Longstreet, cheerfully. "It +is not everybody who would take so much trouble for a tramp. Of course if +he dies people will say your dog killed him; but I will sign a paper to +the effect that it is not true. If he had left you and your dog alone, he +would have been dead in the morning to an absolute certainty." + +"How very extraordinary!" exclaimed the squire, suddenly realising that +instead of causing the man's death Stamboul had perhaps saved his life. + +"It was certainly very odd that he should have chosen the best moment for +assaulting you," continued the doctor. "It is quite possible that even +then he was under some delusion--took you for somebody else--some old +enemy. People do queer things in a brain fever. By the bye has he said +anything intelligible since he has been here?" + +John Short who had been standing silently by the bedside during the whole +interview looked up quickly at the squire, wondering how he would answer. +But Mr. Juxon did not hesitate. + +"Yes. Twice he repeated a woman's name. That is very natural, I suppose. +Do you think he will have any lucid moments for some time?" + +"May," said the doctor, "may. When he does it is likely to be at the +turning point; he will either die or be better very soon after. If it +comes soon he may say something intelligible. If he is much more +exhausted than he is now, he will understand you, but you will not +understand him. Meningitis always brings a partial paralysis of the +tongue, when the patient is exhausted. Most probably he will go on +moaning and mumbling, as he does now, for another day. You will be able +to tell by his eye whether he understands anything; perhaps he will make +some sign with his head or hand. Ah--here is the ice." + +Doctor Longstreet went about his operations in a rapid and business like +fashion and John gave what assistance he could. The squire stood leaning +against the chimney-piece in deep thought. + +Indeed he had enough to think of, when he had fully weighed the meaning +of the doctor's words. He was surprised beyond measure at the turn things +had taken; for although, as he had previously told John, he suspected +that Goddard must have been in a fever for several hours before the +assault, it had not struck him that Stamboul's attack had been absolutely +harmless, still less that it might prove to have been the means of saving +the convict's life. It was terribly hard to say that he desired to save +the man, and yet the honest man in his heart prayed that he might really +hope for that result. It would be far worse, should Goddard die, to +remember that he had wished for his death. But it would be hard to +imagine a more unexpected position than that in which the squire found +himself; by a perfectly natural chain of circumstances he was now tending +with the utmost care the man who had tried to murder him, and who of all +men in the world, stood most in the way of the accomplishment of his +desires. + +He could not hide from himself the fact that he hated the sick man, even +though he hoped, or tried to hope for his recovery. He hated him for the +shame and suffering he had brought upon Mary Goddard in the first +instance, for the terrible anxiety he had caused her by his escape and +sudden appearance at her house; he hated him for being what he was, being +also the father of Nellie, and he hated him honestly for his base attempt +upon himself that night. He had good cause to hate him, and perhaps he +was not ashamed of his hatred. To be called upon, however, to return good +for such an accumulated mass of evil was almost too much for his human +nature. It was but a faint satisfaction to think that if he recovered he +was to be sent back to prison. Mr. Juxon did not know that there was +blood upon the man's hands--he had yet to learn that; he would not deign +to mention the assault in the park when he handed him over to the +authorities; the man should simply go back to Portland to suffer the term +of his imprisonment, as soon as he should be well enough to be moved--if +that time ever came. If he died, he should be buried decently in a +nameless grave, "six feet by four, by two," as Thomas Reid would have +said--if he died. + +Meanwhile, however, there was yet another consideration which disturbed +the squire's meditations. Mrs. Goddard had a right to know that her +husband was dying and, if she so pleased, she had a right to be at his +bedside. But at the same time it would be necessary so to account for her +presence as not to arouse Doctor Longstreet's suspicions, nor the +comments of Holmes, the butler, and of his brigade in the servants' hall. +It was no easy matter to do this unless Mrs. Goddard were accompanied by +the vicar's wife, the excellent and maternally minded Mrs. Ambrose. To +accomplish this it would be necessary to ask the latter lady to spend a +great part of her time at the Hall in taking care of the wretched +Goddard, who would again be the gainer. But Mrs. Ambrose was as yet +ignorant of the fact that he had escaped from prison; she must be told +then, and an effort must be made to elicit her sympathy. Perhaps she and +the vicar would come and stop a few days, thought the squire. Mrs. +Goddard might then come and go as she pleased. Her presence by her +husband's bedside would then be accounted for on the ground of her +charitable disposition. + +While Mr. Juxon was revolving these things in his mind he watched the +doctor and John who were doing what was necessary for the sick man. +Goddard moaned helplessly with every breath, in a loud, monotonous tone, +very wearing to the nerves of those who heard it. + +"There is little to be done," said Doctor Longstreet at last. "He must be +fed--alternately a little beef tea and then a little weak brandy and +water. We must try and keep the system up. That is his only chance. I +will prescribe something and send it back by the groom." + +"You are not going to leave us to-night?" exclaimed the squire in alarm. + +"Must. Very sorry. Bad case of diphtheria in town--probably die before +morning, unless I get there in time--I would not have come here for any +one else. I will certainly be here before ten--he will live till then, I +fancy, and I don't believe there will be any change in his condition. +Good-night, Mr. Juxon--beef tea and brandy every quarter of an hour. +Good-night, Mr.--" he turned to John. + +"Short," said John. "Good-night, doctor." + +"Ah--I remember--used to be with Mr. Ambrose--yes. Delighted to meet you +again, Mr. Short--good-night." + +The doctor vanished, before either the squire or John had time to follow +him. His departure left an unpleasant sense of renewed responsibility in +the squire's mind. + +"You had better go to bed, Mr. Short," he said kindly. "I will sit up +with him." + +But John would not hear of any such arrangement; he insisted upon bearing +his share of the watching and stoutly refused to leave the squire alone. +There was a large dressing-room attached to the room where Goddard was +lying; the squire and John finally agreed to watch turn and turn about, +one remaining with Goddard, while the other rested upon the couch in the +dressing-room aforesaid. The squire insisted upon taking his watch first, +and John lay down. It was past midnight and he was very tired, but it +seemed impossible to sleep with the sound of that loud, monotonous +mumbling perpetually in his ears. It was a horrible night, and John Short +never forgot it so long as he lived. Years afterwards he could not enter +the room where Goddard had lain without fancying he heard that perpetual +groaning still ringing in his ears. For many hours it continued unabated +and unchanging, never dying away to silence nor developing to articulate +words. From time to time John could hear the squire's step as he moved +about, administering the nourishment prescribed. If he had had the +slightest idea of Mr. Juxon's state of mind he would hardly have left him +even to rest awhile in the next room. + +Fortunately the squire's nerves were solid. A firm constitution hardened +by thirty years of seafaring and by the consistent and temperate +regularity which was part of his character, had so toughened his natural +strength as to put him almost beyond the reach of mortal ills; otherwise +he must have broken down under the mental strain thus forced upon him. It +is no light thing to do faithfully the utmost to save a man one has good +reason to hate, and whose death would be an undoubted blessing to every +one who has anything to do with him. Walter Goddard was to Charles Juxon +at once an enemy, an obstacle and a rival; an enemy, for having attempted +his life, an obstacle, because while he lived he prevented the squire +from marrying Mrs. Goddard and a rival because she had once loved him and +for the sake of that love was still willing to sacrifice much for him. +And yet the very fact that she had loved him made it easier to be kind to +him; it seemed to the squire that, after all, in taking care of Goddard +he was in some measure serving her, too, seeing that she would have done +the same thing herself could she have been present. + +Yet there was something very generous and large-hearted in the way +Charles Juxon did his duty by the sick man. There are people who seem by +nature designed to act heroic parts in life, whose actions habitually +take an heroic form, and whose whole character is of another stamp from +that of average humanity. Of such people much is expected, because they +seem to offer much; no one is surprised to hear of their making great +sacrifices, no one is astonished if they exhibit great personal courage +in times of danger. Very often they are people of large vanity, whose +chiefest vanity is not to seem vain; gifted with great powers and always +seeking opportunities of using them, holding high ideas upon most +subjects but rarely conceiving themselves incapable of attaining to any +ideal they select for their admiration; brave in combat partly from real +courage, partly, as I have often heard officers say of a dandy soldier in +the ranks, because they are too proud to run away; but, on the whole, +heroic by temperament and in virtue of a singular compound of pride, +strength and virtue, often accomplishing really great things. They are +almost always what are called striking people, for their pride and their +strength generally attract attention by their magnitude, and something in +their mere appearance distinguishes them from the average mass. + +But Charles Juxon did not in any way belong to this type, any more than +the other persons who found themselves concerned in the events which +culminated in Goddard's illness. He was a very simple man whose pride was +wholly unconscious, who did not believe himself destined to do anything +remarkable, who regarded his own personality as rather uninteresting and +who, had he been asked about himself, would have been the first to +disclaim any sentiments of the heroic kind. With very little imagination, +he possessed great stability himself and great belief in the stability of +things in general, a character of the traditional kind known as +"northern," though it would be much more just to describe it as the +"temperate" or "central" type of man. Wherever there is exaggeration in +nature, there is exaggerated imagination in man. The solid and +unimaginative part of the English character is undeniably derived from +the Angles or from the Flemish; it is morally the best part, but it is by +all odds the least interesting--it is found in the type of man belonging +to the plains in a temperate zone, who differs in every respect from the +real northman, his distant cousin and hereditary enemy. If Charles Juxon +was remarkable for anything it was for his modesty and reticence, in a +word, for his apparent determination not to be remarkable at all. + +And now, in the extremest anxiety and difficulty, his character served +him well; for he unconsciously refused to allow to himself that his +position was extraordinary or his responsibility greater than he was +able to bear. He disliked intensely the idea of being put forward or +thrust into a dramatic situation, and he consequently failed signally to +fulfil the dramatic necessities. There was not even a struggle in his +heart between the opposite possibilities of letting Goddard die, by +merely relaxing his attention, and of redoubling his care and bringing +about his recovery. He never once asked himself, after the chances of the +patient surviving the fever were stated, whether he would not be +justified in sending for some honest housewife from the village to take +care of the tramp instead of looking to his wants himself. He simply did +his best to save the man's life, without hesitation, without suspecting +that he was doing anything extraordinary, doing, as he had always done, +the best thing that came in his way according to the best of his ability. +He could not wholly suppress the reflection that much good might ensue +from Goddard's death, but the thought never for a moment interfered with +his efforts to save the convict alive. + +But John lay in the next room, kept awake by the sick man's perpetual +groaning and by the train of thought which ran through his brain. There +were indeed more strange things than his philosophy could account for, +but the strangest of all was that the squire should know who the tramp +was; he must know it, John thought, since he knew all about him, his +former love for Mrs. Goddard and his recent presence in the +neighbourhood. The young man's curiosity was roused to its highest pitch, +and he longed to know more. He at once guessed that there must have +been much intimate confidence between Mr. Juxon and Mrs. Goddard; he +suspected moreover that there must be some strange story connected with +her, something which accounted for the peculiar stamp of a formerly +luxurious life which still clung to her, and which should explain her +residence in Billingsfield But John was very far from suspecting the real +truth. + +His mind was restless and the inaction became intolerable to him. He rose +at last and went again into the room where his friend was watching. Mr. +Juxon sat by the bedside, the very picture of patience, one leg crossed +over the other and his hands folded together upon his knee, his face +paler than usual but perfectly calm, his head bent a little to one side +and his smooth hair, which had been slightly ruffled in the encounter in +the park, as smooth as ever. It was a very distinctive feature of him; it +was part of the sleek and spotless neatness which Mrs. Ambrose so much +admired. + +"It is my turn, now," said John. "Will you lie down for a couple of +hours?" + +The squire rose. Being older and less excitable than John, he was +beginning to feel the need of rest. People who have watched often by the +sick know how terribly long are those hours of the night between three +o'clock and dawn; long always, but seeming interminable when one is +obliged to listen perpetually to a long-drawn, inarticulate moaning, a +constant effort to speak which never results in words. + +"You are very good," said Mr. Juxon, quietly. "If you will give him the +things from time to time, I will take a nap." + +With that he went and lay down upon the couch, and in three minutes was +as sound asleep as though he were in bed. John sat by the sick man and +looked at his flushed features and listened to the hard-drawn breath +followed each time by that terrible, monotonous, mumbling groan. + +It might have been three-quarters of an hour since the squire had gone to +sleep when John thought he saw a change in Goddard's face; it seemed to +him that the flush subsided from his forehead, very slowly, leaving only +a bright burning colour in his cheeks. His eyes seemed suddenly to grow +clearer and a strange look of intelligence came into them; his whole +appearance was as though illuminated by a flash of some light different +from that of the candles which burned upon the table. John rose to his +feet and came and looked at him. The groaning suddenly ceased and +Goddard's eyelids, which had been motionless for hours, moved naturally. +He appeared to be observing John's face attentively. + +"Where is the squire?" he asked quite naturally--so naturally that John +was startled. + +"Asleep in the next room," replied the latter. + +"I did not kill him after all," said Goddard, turning himself a little as +though to be more at his ease. + +"No," answered John. "He is not hurt at all. Can you tell me who you +are?" For his life, he could not help asking the question. It seemed so +easy to find out who the fellow was, now that he could speak +intelligibly. But Goddard's face contracted suddenly, in a hideous smile. + +"Don't you wish you knew?" he said roughly. "But I know you, my boy, I +know you--ha! ha! There's no getting away from you, my boy, is there?" + +"Who am I?" asked John in astonishment. + +"You are the hangman," said Goddard. "I know you very well. The hangman +is always so well dressed. I say, old chap, turn us off quick, you +know--no fumbling about the bolt. Look here--I like your face," he +lowered his voice--"there are nearly sixty pounds in my right-hand +trouser pocket--there are--Mary--ah--gave--M--a--" + +Again his eyes fixed themselves and the moaning began and continued. John +was horror-struck and stood for a moment gazing at his face, over which +the deep flush had spread once more, seeming to obliterate all appearance +of intelligence. Then the young man put his hand beneath Goddard's head +and gently replaced him in his former position, smoothing the pillows, +and giving him a little brandy. He debated whether or not he should call +the squire from his rest to tell him what had happened, but seeing that +Goddard had now returned to his former state, he supposed such moments of +clear speech were to be expected from time to time. He sat down again, +and waited; then after a time he went to the window and looked anxiously +for the dawn. It seemed an intolerably long night. + +But the day came at last and shed a ghastly grey tinge upon the +sick-room, revealing as it were the outlines of all that was bad to look +at, which the warm yellow candle-light had softened with a kindlier +touch. John accidentally looked at himself in the mirror as he passed and +was startled at his own pale face; but the convict, labouring in the +ravings of his fever, seemed unconscious of the dawning day; he was not +yet exhausted and his harsh voice never ceased its jarring gibber. John +wondered whether he should ever spend such a night again, and shuddered +at the recollection of each moment. + +The daylight waked the squire from his slumbers, however, and before the +sun was up he came out of the dressing-room, looking almost as fresh as +though nothing had happened to him in the night. Accustomed for years to +rise at all hours, in all weathers, unimpressionable, calm and strong, he +seemed superior to the course of events. + +"Well, Mr. Short, you allowed me a long nap. You must be quite worn out, +I should think. How is the patient?" + +John told what had occurred. + +"Took you for the hangman, did he?" said the squire. "I wonder why--but +you say he asked after me very sensibly?" + +"Quite so. It was when I asked him his own name, that he began raving +again," answered John innocently. + +"What made you ask him that?" asked Mr. Juxon, who did not seem pleased. + +"Curiosity," was John's laconic answer. + +"Yes--but I fancy it frightened him. If I were you I would not do it +again, if he has a lucid moment. I imagine it was fright that made him +delirious in the first instance." + +"All right," quoth John. "I won't." But he made his own deductions. The +squire evidently knew who he was, and did not want John to know, for some +unexplained reason. The young man wondered what the reason could be; the +mere name of the wretched man was not likely to convey any idea to his +mind, for it was highly improbable that he had ever met him before his +conviction. So John departed to his own room and refreshed himself with +a tub, while the squire kept watch by daylight. + +It was not yet eight o'clock when Holmes brought a note from the vicar, +which Mr. Juxon tore open and read with anxious interest. + +"MY DEAR MR. JUXON--I received your note late last night, but I judged it +better to answer this morning, not wishing to excite suspicion by sending +to you at so late an hour. The intelligence is indeed alarming and you +will, I daresay, understand me, when I tell you that I found it necessary +to communicate it to Mrs. Ambrose--" + +The squire could not refrain from smiling at the vicar's way of putting +the point; but he read quickly on. + +"She however--and I confess my surprise and gratification--desires to +accompany me to the Hall this morning, volunteering to take all possible +care of the unfortunate man. As she has had much experience in visiting +the sick, I fancy that she will render us very valuable assistance in +saving his life. Pray let me know if the plan has your approval, as it +may be dangerous to lose time.--Yours sincerely, + +"AUGUSTIN AMBROSE." + +Mr. Juxon was delighted to find that the difficult task of putting Mrs. +Ambrose in possession of the facts of the case had been accomplished in +the ordinary, the very ordinary, course of events by her own +determination to find out what was to be known. In an hour she might be +at Goddard's bedside, and Mrs. Goddard would be free to see her husband. +He despatched a note at once and redoubled his attentions to the sick man +whose condition, however, showed no signs of changing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mrs. Ambrose kept her word and arrived with the vicar before nine +o'clock, protesting her determination to take care of poor Goddard, so +long as he needed any care. Mr. Juxon warned her that John did not know +who the man was, and entreated her to be careful of her speech when John +was present. There was no reason why John should ever know anything more +about it, he said; three could keep a secret, but no one knew whether +four could be as discreet. + +The squire took Mrs. Ambrose and her husband to Goddard's room and +telling her that Doctor Longstreet was expected in an hour, by which time +he himself hoped to have returned, he left the two good people in charge +of the sick man and went to see Mrs. Goddard. He sent John a message to +the effect that all was well and that he should take some rest while the +Ambroses relieved the watch, and having thus disposed his household he +went out, bound upon one of the most disagreeable errands he had ever +undertaken. But he set his teeth and walked boldly down the park. + +At the turn of the avenue he paused, at the spot where Goddard had +attacked him. There was nothing to be seen at first, for the road was +hard and dry and there was no trace of the scuffle; but as the squire +looked about he spied his hat, lying in the ditch, and picked it up. It +was heavy with the morning dew and the brim was broken and bent where +Goddard's weapon had struck it. Hard by in a heap of driven oak leaves +lay the weapon itself, which Mr. Juxon examined curiously. It was a +heavy piece of hewn oak, evidently very old, and at one end a thick iron +spike was driven through, the sharp point projecting upon one side and +the wrought head upon the other. He turned it over in his hands and +realised that he had narrowly escaped his death. Then he laid the hat and +the club together and threw a handful of leaves over them, intending to +take them to the Hall at a later hour, and he turned to go upon his way +towards the cottage. But as he turned he saw two men coming towards him, +and now not twenty yards away. His heart sank, for one of the two was +Thomas Gall the village constable; the other was a quiet-looking +individual with grey whiskers, plainly dressed and unassuming in +appearance. Instinctively the squire knew that Gall's companion must be a +detective. He was startled, and taken altogether unawares; but the men +were close upon him and there was nothing to be done but to face them +boldly. + +Gall made his usual half military salute as he came up, and the man in +plain clothes raised his hat politely. + +"The gentleman from Lunnon, sir," said Gall by way of introduction, +assuming an air of mysterious importance. + +"Yes?" said Mr. Juxon interrogatively. "Do you wish to speak to me?" + +"The gentleman's come on business, sir. In point of fact, sir, it's the +case we was speakin' of lately." + +The squire knew very well what was the matter. Indeed, he had wondered +that the detective had not arrived sooner. That did not make it any +easier to receive him, however; on the contrary, if he had come on the +previous day matters would have been much simpler. + +"Very well, Gall," answered Mr. Juxon. "I am much obliged to you for +bringing Mr.--" he paused and looked at the man in plain clothes. + +"Booley, sir," said the detective. + +"Thank you--yes--for bringing Mr. Booley so far. You may go home, Gall. +If we need your services we will send to your house." + +"It struck me, sir," remarked Gall with a bland smile, "as perhaps I +might be of use--prefeshnal in fact, sir." + +"I will send for you," said the detective, shortly. The manners of the +rural constabulary had long ceased to amuse him. + +Gall departed rather reluctantly, but to make up for being left out of +the confidential interview which was to follow, he passed his thumb round +his belt and thrust out his portly chest as he marched down the avenue. +He subsequently spoke very roughly to a little boy who was driving an old +sheep to the butcher's at the other end of the village. + +Mr. Juxon and the detective turned back and walked slowly towards the +Hall. + +"Will you be good enough to state exactly what the business is," said the +squire, well knowing that it was best to go straight to the point. + +"You are Mr. Juxon, I believe?" inquired Mr. Booley looking at his +companion sharply. The squire nodded. "Very good, Mr. Juxon," continued +the official. "I am after a man called Walter Goddard. Do you know +anything about him? His wife, Mrs. Mary Goddard, lives in this village." + +"Walter Goddard is at this moment in my house," said the squire calmly. +"I know all about him. He lay in wait for me at this very spot last night +and attacked me. My dog pulled him down." + +The detective was somewhat surprised at the intelligence, and at the cool +manner in which his companion conveyed it. + +"I am very glad to hear that. In that case I will take him at once." + +"I fear that is impossible," answered the squire. "The man is raving in +the delirium of a brain fever. Meanwhile I shall be glad if you will stay +in the house, until he is well enough to be moved. The doctor will be +here at ten o'clock, and he will give you the details of the case better +than I can. It would be quite impossible to take him away at present." + +"May I ask," inquired Mr. Booley severely, "why you did not inform the +local police?" + +"Because it would have been useless. If he had escaped after attacking +me, I should have done so. But since I caught him, and found him to be +very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him +myself. Mrs. Goddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her +story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do +her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also +acquainted with the circumstances, is at this moment taking care of the +sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the +Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient +guarantee--" + +"Oh, there is no question of guarantee," said Mr. Booley. "I assure you, +Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best. +Can you tell me how long Goddard has been in the neighbourhood?" + +The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate +Mrs. Goddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not +positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else +had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that Goddard +could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the +capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him. + +"That is doubtful," said the squire. "When I left him just now he was +quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a +time might kill him outright." + +"It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man," remarked +Mr. Booley. "Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the +servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. Goddard, too." + +"That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house, +now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps +tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her +very much." + +"Well, well, we will see about it," answered Mr. Booley. They reached the +house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to +wait for his return. + +It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the +position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the +house waiting to carry off Goddard, so soon as he should be well enough +to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The +longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time +unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. Goddard of Booley's arrival. +He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing +her to her husband's bedside. + +He found her waiting for him, and was struck by the calmness she +displayed. To tell the truth the violence of her emotions had been wholly +expended on the previous night and the reaction had brought an intense +melancholy quiet, which almost frightened Mr. Juxon. The habit of bearing +great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well +learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as +though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent +suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account +of what had happened. + +"You are not hurt?" she asked, almost incredulously. Her eyes rested on +her friend's face with a wistful look. + +"No, I assure you, not in the least," he said. "But your poor husband is +very ill--very ill indeed." + +"Tell me," said she quietly, "is he dead? Are you trying to break it to +me?" + +"No--no indeed. He is alive--he may even recover. But that is very +uncertain. It might be best to wait until the doctor has been again. I +will come back and fetch you--" + +"Oh, no, I will go at once. I would like to walk. It will do me good." + +So the two set out without further words upon their errand. Mr. Juxon had +purposely omitted to speak of Mr. Booley's arrival. It would be easy, he +thought, to prevent them from meeting in the great house. + +"Do you know," said Mary Goddard, as they walked together, "it is very +hard to wish that he may recover--" she stopped short. + +"Very hard," answered the squire. "His life must be one of misery, if he +lives." + +"Of course you would send him back?" she asked nervously. + +"My dear friend, there is no other course open to me. Your own safety +requires it." + +"God knows--you would only be doing right," she said and was silent +again. She knew, though the squire did not, what fate awaited Walter +Goddard if he were given up to justice. She knew that he had taken life +and must pay the penalty. Yet she was very calm; her senses were all +dulled and yet her thoughts seemed to be consecutive and rational. She +realised fully that the case of life and death was ill balanced; death +had it which ever course events might take, and she could not save her +husband. She thought of it calmly and calmly hoped that he might die now, +in his bed, with her by his side. It was a better fate. + +"You say that the doctor thinks he must have been ill some time?" she +asked after a time. + +"Yes--he was quite sure of it," answered the squire. + +"Perhaps that was why he spoke so roughly to me," she said in a low +voice, as though speaking to herself. + +The tears came into the squire's eyes for sheer pity. Even in this utmost +extremity the unhappy woman tried to account for her husband's rude and +cruel speech. Mr. Juxon did not answer but looked away. They passed the +spot where the scuffle had occurred on the previous night, but still he +said nothing, fearing to disturb her by making his story seem too vividly +real. + +"Where is he?" she asked as they reached the Hall, looking up at the +windows. + +"On the other side." + +They went in and mounted the stairs towards the sick man's chamber. Mr. +Juxon went in, leaving Mrs. Goddard outside for a moment. She could +hear that hideous rattling monotonous moan, and she trembled from head to +foot. Presently Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose came out, looking very grave and +passed by her with a look of sympathy. + +"Will you come in?" said the squire in a low voice. + +Mrs. Goddard entered the room quickly. On seeing her husband, she uttered +a low cry and laid her hand upon Mr. Juxon's arm. For some seconds she +stood thus, quite motionless, gazing with intense and sympathetic +interest at the sick man's face. Then she went to his side and laid her +hand upon his burning forehead and looked into his eyes. + +"Walter! Walter!" she cried. "Don't you know me? Oh, why does he groan +like that? Is he suffering?" she asked turning to Mr. Juxon. + +"No--I do not think he suffers much. He is quite unconscious. He is +talking all the time but cannot pronounce the words." + +The squire stood at a distance looking on, noting the womanly +thoughtfulness Mrs. Goddard displayed as she smoothed her husband's +pillow and tried to settle his head more comfortably upon the bags of +ice; and all the while she never took her eyes from Goddard's face, as +though she were fascinated by her own sorrow and his suffering. She moved +about the bed with that instinctive understanding of sickness which +belongs to delicate women, but her glance never strayed to Mr. Juxon; she +seemed forced by a mysterious magnetism to look at Walter and only at +him. + +"Has he been long like this?" she asked. + +"Ever since last night. He called you once--he said, 'Mary Goddard, let +me in!' And then he said something else--he said--I cannot remember what +he said." Mr. Juxon checked himself, remembering the words John had +heard, and of which he only half understood the import. But Mrs. Goddard +hardly noticed his reply. + +"Will you leave me alone with him?" she said presently. "There is a bell +in the room--I could ring if anything--happened," she added with mournful +hesitation. + +"Certainly," answered the squire. "Only, I beg of you my dear friend--do +not distress yourself needlessly--" + +"Needlessly!" she repeated with a sorrowful smile. "It is all I can do +for him--to watch by his side. He will not live--he will not live, I am +sure." + +The squire inwardly prayed that she might be right, and left her alone +with the sick man. Who, he thought, was better fitted, who had a stronger +right to be at his bedside at such a time? If only he might die! For if +he lived, how much more terrible would the separation be, when Booley the +detective came to conduct him back to his prison! In truth, it would be +more terrible even than Mr. Juxon imagined. + +Meanwhile he must go and see to the rest of the household. He must speak +to John Short; he must see Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, and he must take +precautions against any of them seeing Mr. Booley. This was, he thought, +very important, and he resolved to speak with the latter first. John was +probably asleep, worn out with the watching of the night. + +Mr. Booley sat in the squire's study where he had been left almost an +hour earlier. He had installed himself in a comfortable corner by the +fire and was reading the morning paper which he had found unopened upon +the table. He seemed thoroughly at home as he sat there, a pair of +glasses upon his nose and his feet stretched out towards the flame upon +the hearth. + +"Thank you, I am doing very well, Mr. Juxon," he said as the squire +entered. + +"Oh--I am very glad," answered Mr. Juxon politely. The information was +wholly voluntary as he had not asked any question concerning the +detective's comfort. + +"And how is the patient?" inquired Mr. Booley. "Do you think there is any +chance of removing him this afternoon?" + +"This afternoon?" repeated the squire, in some astonishment. "The man is +very ill. It may be weeks before he can be removed." + +"Oh!" ejaculated the other. "I was not aware of that. I cannot possibly +stay so long. To-morrow, at the latest, he will have to go." + +"But, my dear sir," argued Mr. Juxon, "the thing is quite impossible. The +doctor can testify to that--" + +"We are apt to be our own doctors in these cases," said Mr. Booley, +calmly. "At all events he can be taken as far as the county gaol." + +"Upon my word, it would be murder to think of it--a man in a brain fever, +in a delirium, to be taken over jolting roads--dear me! It is not to be +thought of!" + +Mr. Booley smiled benignly, for the first time since the squire had made +his acquaintance. + +"You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable," he +observed. + +"Yes--no doubt--but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too." + +"Hardly, I should say," returned the detective coolly. "But since you are +so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you +whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable +experience in that line." + +"You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes," replied the squire, +shocked at the man's indifference and hardness. + +"It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or +raving," objected Mr. Booley. + +"He might have a lucid moment just when you are there--the fright would +very likely kill him." + +"That would decide the question of moving him," answered Booley, taking +his glasses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet. +"There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I +would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it +may be my duty to do so." + +The squire was beginning to be angry; even his calm temper was not proof +against the annoyance caused by Mr. Booley's appearance at the Hall, but +he wisely controlled himself and resorted to other means of persuasion. + +"There is a reason, Mr. Booley; indeed there are several very good +reasons. One of them is that it might be fatal to frighten the man; +another is that at this moment his wife is by his bedside. She has +entirely made up her mind that when he is recovered he must return to +prison, but at present it would be most unkind to let her know that you +are in the house. The shock to her nerves would be terrible." + +"Oh," said Mr. Booley, "if there is a lady in the case we must make some +allowances, I presume. Only, put yourself in my place, Mr. Juxon, put +yourself in my place." + +The squire doubted whether he would be willing to exchange his +personality for that of Mr. Booley. + +"Well--what then?" he said. "I think I would try to be merciful." + +"Yes; but suppose that in being merciful, you just allowed that lady the +time necessary to present her beloved husband with a convenient little +pill, just to shorten his sufferings? And suppose that--" + +"Really, Mr. Booley, I think you make very unwarrantable suppositions," +said Mr. Juxon severely. "I cannot suppose any such thing." + +"Many women--ladies too--have done that to save a man from hanging," +returned Mr. Booley, fixing his grey eye on the squire. + +"Hanging?" repeated the latter in surprise. "But Goddard is not to be +hanged." + +"Of course he is. What did you expect?" Mr. Booley looked surprised in +his turn. + +"But--what for?" asked the squire very anxiously. "He has not killed +anybody--" + +"Oh--then you don't know how he escaped?" + +"No--I have not the least idea--pray tell me." + +"I don't wonder you don't understand me, then," said Mr. Booley. "Well, +it is a short tale but a lively one, as they say. Of course it stands to +reason in the first place that he could not have got out of Portland. He +was taken out for a purpose. You know that after his trial was over, all +sorts of other things besides the forgery came out about him, proving +that he was altogether a very bad lot. Now about three weeks ago there +was a question of identifying a certain person--it was a very long story, +with a bad murder case and all the rest of it--commonplace, you know the +sort--never mind the story, it will all be in the papers before long when +they have got it straight, which is more than I have, seeing that these +affairs do get a little complicated occasionally, you know, as such +things will." Mr. Booley paused. It was evident that his command of the +English tongue was not equal to the strain of constructing a long +sentence. + +"This person, whom he was to identify, was the person murdered?" inquired +Mr. Juxon. + +"Exactly. It was not the person, but the person's body, so to say. +Somebody who had been connected with the Goddard case was sure that if +Goddard could be got out of prison he could do the identifying all +straight. It did not matter about his being under sentence of hard +labour--it was a private case, and the officer only wanted Goddard's +opinion for his personal satisfaction. So he goes to the governor of +Portland, and finds that Goddard had a very good character in that +institution--he was a little bit of a gay deceiver, you see, and knew how +to fetch the chaps in there and particularly the parson. So he had a good +character. Very good. The governor consents to send him to town for this +private job, under a strong force--that means three policemen--with irons +on his hands. When they reached London they put him in a fourwheeler. +Those things are done sometimes, and nobody is the wiser, because the +governor does it on his own responsibility, for the good of the law, I +suppose. I never approved of it. Do you follow me, Mr. Juxon?" + +"Perfectly," answered the squire. "He was driven from the station with +three policemen in a hackney-coach, you say." + +"Exactly so. It was a queer place where the body was--away down in the +Minories. Ever been there, Mr. Juxon? Queer place it is, and no mistake. +I would like to show you some little bits of London. Well, as I was +saying, the fourwheeler went along, with two policemen inside with +Goddard and one on the box. Safe, you would say. Not a bit of it. Just +the beggar's luck, too. It was dusk. That is always darker than when the +lamps are well going. The fourwheeler ran into a dray-cart, round a +corner where they were repairing the street. The horse went down with a +smash, shafts, lamp, everything broken to smithereens, as they say. The +policeman jumps off the box with the cabby to see what is the matter. One +of the bobbies--the policemen I would say--it's a technical term, Mr. +Juxon--gets out of the cab to see what's up, leaving Goddard in charge of +the other. Then there is a terrific row; more carts come up, more +fourwheelers--everybody swearing at once. Presently the policeman who +had got out comes back and looks in to see if everything is straight. Not +a bit of it again. Other door of the cab was open and--no Goddard. But +the policeman was lying back in the corner and when they struck a light +and looked, they found he was stone dead. Goddard had brained him with +the irons on his wrists. No one ever saw him from that day to this. He +must have known London well--they say he did, and he was a noted quick +runner. Being nightfall and rather foggy as it generally is in those +parts he got clear off. But he killed the man who had him in charge and +if he lives he will have to swing for it. May be Mrs. Goddard does not +know that---may be she does. That is the reason I don't want her to be +left alone with him. No doubt she is very good and all that, but she +might just take it into her head to save the government twenty feet of +rope." + +"I am very much surprised, and very much shocked," said the squire +gravely. "I had no idea of this. But I will answer for Mrs. Goddard. +Why was all this never In the papers--or was there an account of it, Mr. +Booley?" + +"Oh no--it was never mentioned. We felt sure that we should catch him and +until we did we--I mean the profession--thought it just as well to say +nothing. The governor remembered to have read a letter from Goddard's +wife, just telling him where she was living, about two years ago. Being +harmless, he passed it and never copied the address; then he could not +remember it. At last they found it in his cell, hidden away somehow. The +beggar had kept it." + +"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. In the silence which followed, the +sound of wheels was heard outside. Doctor Longstreet had arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +While Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were together in the library downstairs, while +John Short was waking from the short sleep he had enjoyed, and while the +squire was listening in the study to Mr. Booley's graphic account of the +convict's escape, Mrs. Goddard was alone with her husband, watching every +movement and listening intently to every moaning breath he drew. + +In the desperate anxiety for his fate, she forgot herself and seemed no +longer to feel fatigue or exhaustion from all she herself had suffered. +She stood long by his bedside, hoping that he might recognise her and yet +fearing the moment when he should recover his senses. Then she noticed +that the morning sun was pouring in through the window and she drew a +curtain across, to shade his eyes from the glare. Whether the sudden +changing of the light affected Goddard, as it does sometimes affect +persons in the delirium of a brain fever, or whether it was only a +natural turn in his condition, she never knew. His expression changed and +acquired that same look of strange intelligence which John Short had +noticed in the night; the flush sank from his forehead and gave place to +a luminous, transparent colour, his eyelids once more moved naturally, +and he looked at his wife as she stood beside him, and recognised her. He +was weaker now than when he had spoken with John Short six hours earlier, +but he was more fully in possession of his faculties for a +brief moment. Mary Goddard trembled and felt her hands turn cold with +excitement. + +"Walter, do you know me now?" she asked very softly. + +"Yes," he said faintly, and closed his eyes. She laid her hand upon his +forehead; the coldness of it seemed pleasant to him, for a slight smile +flickered over his face. + +"You are better, I think," she said again, gazing intently at him. + +"Mary--it is Mary?" he murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking up +to her. "Yes--I know you--I have been dreaming a long time. I'm so +tired--" + +"You must not talk," said she. "It will tire you more." Then she gave him +some drink. "Try and sleep," she said in a soothing tone. + +"I cannot--oh, Mary, I am very ill." + +"But you will get well again--" + +Goddard started suddenly, and laid his hand upon her arm with more force +than she suspected he possessed. + +"Where am I?" he asked, staring about the room. "Is this your house, +Mary? What became of Juxon?" + +"He is not hurt. He brought you home in his arms, Walter, to his own +house, and is taking care of you." + +"Good heavens! He will give me up. No, no, don't hold me--I must be +off" + +He made a sudden effort to rise, but he was very weak. He fell back +exhausted upon his pillow; his fingers gripped the sheet convulsively, +and his face grew paler. + +"Caught--like a rat!" he muttered. Mary Goddard sighed. + +Was she to give him hope of escape? Or should she try to calm him now, +and when he was better, break the truth to him? Was she to make him +believe that he was safe for the present, and hold out a prospect of +escape when he should be better, or should she tell him now, once for +all, while he was in his senses, that he was lost? It was a terrible +position. Love she had none left for him, but there was infinite pity +still in her heart and there would be while he breathed. She hesitated +one moment only, and it may be that she decided for the wrong; but it was +her pity that moved her, and not any remnant of love. + +"Hush, Walter," she said. "You may yet escape, when you are strong +enough. You are quite safe here, for the present. Mr. Juxon would not +think of giving you up now. By and by--the window is not high, Walter, +and I shall often be alone with you. I will manage it." + +"Is that true? Are you cheating me?" cried the wretched man in broken +tones. "No--you are speaking the truth--I know it--God bless you, Mary!" +Again he closed his eyes and drew one or two long deep breaths. + +Strange to say, the blessing the miserable convict called down upon her +was sweet to Mary Goddard, sweeter than anything she remembered for a +long time. She had perhaps done wrong in giving him hopes of escaping, +but at least he was grateful to her. It was more than she expected, for +she remembered her last meeting with him, and the horrible ingratitude +he had then shown her. It seemed to her that his heart had been softened +a little; anything was better than that rough indifference he had +affected before. Presently he spoke again. + +"Not that it makes much difference now, Mary," he said. "I don't think +there is much left of me." + +"Do not say that, Walter," she answered gently. "Rest now. The more you +rest the sooner you will be well again. Try and sleep." + +"Sleep--no--I cannot sleep. I have murdered sleep--like Macbeth, Mary, +like Macbeth--Do you remember Macbeth?" + +"Hush," said Mary Goddard, endeavouring to calm him, though she turned +pale at his strange quotation. "Hush--" + +"That is to say," said the sick man, heedless of her exhortation and +soothing touch, "that is to say, I did not. He was very wide awake, and +if I had not been quick, I should never have got off. Ugh! How damp that +cellar was, that first night. That is where I got my fever. It is fever, +I suppose?" he asked, unable to keep his mind for long in one groove. +"What does the doctor say? Has he been here?" + +"Yes. He said you would soon be well; but he said you must be kept very +quiet. So you must not talk, or I will go away." + +"Oh Mary, don't go--don't go! It's like--ha! ha! it's quite like old +times, Mary!" He laughed harshly, a hideous, half-delirious laugh. + +Mary Goddard shuddered but made a great effort to control herself. + +"Yes," she said gently, "it is like old times. Try and think that it is +the old house at Putney, Walter. Do you hear the sparrows chirping, just +as they used to do? The curtains are the same colour, too. You used to +sleep so quietly at the old house. Try and sleep now. Then you will +soon get well. Now, I will sit beside you, but I will not talk any +more--there--are you quite comfortable? A little higher? Yes--so. Go to +sleep." + +Her quiet voice soothed him, and her gentle hands made his rest more +easy. She sat down beside him, thinking from his silence that he would +really go to sleep; hoping and yet not hoping, revolving in her mind the +chances of his escape, so soon as he should be strong enough to attempt +it, shuddering at the thought of what his fate must be if he again fell +into the hands of the police. She did not know that a detective was at +that moment in the house, determined to carry her husband away so soon as +the doctor pronounced it possible. Nothing indeed, not even that +knowledge could have added much to the burden of her sorrows as she sat +there, a small and graceful figure with a sad pathetic face, leaning +forward as she sat and gazing drearily at the carpet, where the sunlight +crept in beneath the curtains from the bright world without. It seemed to +her that the turning point in her existence had come, and that this day +must decide all; yet she could not see how it was to be decided, think of +it as she might. One thing stood prominent in her thoughts, and she +delighted to think of it--the generosity of Charles Juxon. From first to +last, from the day when she had frankly told him her story and he had +accepted it and refused to let it bring any difference to his friendship +for her, down to this present time, when after being basely attacked by +her own husband, he had nobly brought the wretch home and was caring +for him as for one of his own blood--through all and in spite of all, the +squire had shown the same unassuming but unfailing generosity. She asked +herself, as she sat beside the sick man, whether there were many like +Charles Juxon in the world. There was the vicar, but the case was very +different. He too had been kind and generous from the first; but he had +not asked her to marry him--she blushed at the thought--he had not loved +her. If Charles Juxon loved her, his generosity to Goddard was all the +greater. + +She could not tell whether she loved him, because her ideas were what the +world calls simple, and what, in heaven, would be called good. Her +husband was alive; none the less so because he had been taken away and +separated from her by the law--he was alive, and now was brought face to +face with her again. While he was living, she did not suppose it possible +to love another, for she was very simple. She said to herself truly that +she had a very high esteem for the squire and that he was the best friend +she had in the world; that to lose him would be the most terrible of +imaginable losses; that she was deeply indebted to him, and she even half +unconsciously allowed that if she were free she might marry him. There +was no harm in that, she knew very well. She owed her own husband no +longer either respect or affection, even while she still felt pity for +him. Her esteem at least, she might give to another; nay, she owed it, +and if she had refused Charles Juxon her friendship, she would have +called herself the most ungrateful of women. If ever man deserved +respect, esteem and friendship, it was the squire. + +Even in the present anxiety she thought of him, for his conduct seemed +the only bright spot in the gloom of her thoughts; and she sincerely +rejoiced that he had escaped unhurt. Had any harm come to him, she would +have been, if it were possible, more miserable than she now was. But he +was safe and sound, and doing his best to help her--doing more than she +knew, in fact, at that very moment. There was at least something to be +thankful for. + +Goddard stirred again, and opened his eyes. + +"Mary," he said faintly, "they won't catch me after all." + +"No, Walter," said she, humouring him. "Sleep quietly, for no one will +disturb you." + +"I am going where nobody can catch me. I am dying--" + +"Oh, Walter!" cried Mary Goddard, "you must not speak like that. You will +be better soon. The doctor is expected every moment." + +"He had better make haste," said the sick man with something of the +roughness he had shown at their first meetings. "It is no use, Mary. I +have been thinking about it. I have been mad for--for very long, I am +sure. I want to die, Mary. Nobody can catch me if I die--I shall be safe +then. You will be safe too--that is a great thing." + +His voice had a strange and meditative tone in it, which frightened his +wife, as she stood close beside him. She could not speak, for her +excitement and fear had the mastery of her tongue. + +"I have been thinking about it--I am not good for much, now--Mary--I +never was. It will do some good if I die--just because I shall be out of +the way. It will be the only good thing I ever did for you." + +"Oh Walter," cried his wife in genuine distress, "don't--don't! +Think--you must not die so--think of--of the other world, Walter--you +must not die so!" + +Goddard smiled faintly--scornfully, his wife thought. + +"I daresay I shall not die till to-morrow, or next day--but I will not +live," he said with sudden energy. "Do you understand me, I will not +live! Bah!" he cried, falling back upon his pillow, "the grapes are +sour--I can't live if I would. Oh yes, I know all about that--my sins. +Well, I am sorry for them. I am sorry, Mary. But it is very little +good--people always laugh at--deathbed repentance--" + +He stopped and his thoughts seemed wandering. Mary Goddard gave him +something to drink and tried to calm him. But he moved restlessly, though +feebly. + +"Softly, softly," he murmured again. "He is coming--close to me. Get +ready--now--no not yet, yes--now. Ugh!" yelled Goddard, suddenly +springing up, his eyes starting from his head. "Ugh! the dog--oh!" + +"Hush, Walter," cried his wife, pushing him back. "Hush--no one will hurt +you." + +"What--is that you, Mary?" asked the sick man, trembling violently. Then +he laughed harshly. "I was off again. Pshaw! I did not really mean to +hurt him--he need not have set that beast at me. He did not catch me +though--Mary, I am going to die--will you pray for me? You are a good +woman--somebody will hear your prayers, I daresay. Do, Mary--I shall feel +better somehow, though I daresay it is very foolish of me." + +"No, Walter--not foolish, not foolish. Would you like me to call Mr. +Ambrose? he is a clergyman--he is in the house." + +"No, no. You Mary, you--nobody will hear anybody else's prayers--for +me--for poor me--" + +"Try and pray with me, Walter," said Mary Goddard, very quietly. She +seemed to have an unnatural strength given to her in that hour of +distress and horror. She knelt down by the bedside and took his wounded +hand in hers, tenderly, and she prayed aloud in such words as she could +find. + +Below, in the study, the detective had just finished telling his tale to +the squire, and the wheels of Doctor Longstreet's dog-cart ground upon +the gravel outside. The two men looked at each other for a moment, and +Mr. Juxon spoke first. + +"That is the doctor," said he. "I will ask you to have patience for five +minutes, Mr. Booley. He will give you his opinion. I am still very much +shocked at what you have told me--I had no idea what had happened." + +"No--I suppose not," answered Mr. Booley calmly. "If you will ask the +medical man to step in here for one moment, I will explain matters to +him. I don't think he will differ much from me." + +"Very well," returned the squire, leaving the room. He went to meet +Doctor Longstreet, intending to warn him of the presence of Mr. Booley, +and meaning to entreat his support for the purpose of keeping Goddard in +the house until he should be recovered. He passed through the library and +exchanged a few words with Mr. Ambrose, explaining that the doctor had +come. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were sitting on opposite sides of the +fireplace in huge chairs, with a mournful air of resigned expectation +upon their worthy faces. The detective remained alone in the study. + +Meanwhile John Short had refreshed himself from his fatigues, and came +down stairs in search of some breakfast. He had recovered from his +excitement and was probably the only one who thought of eating, as he was +also the one least closely concerned in what was occurring. Instead of +going to the library he went to the dining-room, and, seeing no one +about, entered the study from the door which on that side connected the +two rooms. To his surprise he saw Mr. Booley standing before the +fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his feet wide apart. He had not +the least idea who he was. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed, staring hard at him. + +"Yes," said Mr. Booley, who took him for the physician whom he expected. +"I am George Booley of the detective service. I was expecting you, sir. +There is very little to be said. My time, as I told Mr. Juxon, is very +valuable. I must have Goddard out of the house by to-morrow afternoon at +the latest. Now, doctor, it is of no use your talking to me about fever +and all that--" + +John had stood with his mouth open, staring in blank astonishment at the +detective, unable to find words in which to question the man. At last he +got his breath. + +"What in the world are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "Are you a +raving lunatic--or what are you?" + +"Come, come, doctor," said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, "none of +that with me, you know. If the man must be moved--why he must, that is +all, and you must make it possible, somehow." + +"You are crazy!" exclaimed John. "I am not the doctor, to begin with--" + +"Not the doctor!" cried Mr. Booley. "Then who are you? I beg your pardon, +I am sure--" + +"I am John Short," said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name +conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective. He cared little, +for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into +the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real +physician. But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he +found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each +other. He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was +relieved to see them--anything was a relief at that moment. + +"Mr. Ambrose," he said hurriedly, "there is a detective in the next room +who means to carry off that poor man at once--as he is--sick--dying +perhaps--it must be prevented!" + +"A detective!" cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath. + +"My dear John," said the vicar immediately afterwards, "where is he? I +will reason with him." + +"Augustin," said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, "it is barbarous. I +will go upstairs. If he enters the room it shall be across my body." + +"Do, my dear," replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely +appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent. + +"Of course I will," said his wife, who had already reached the door. From +which it appears that Mrs. Ambrose was a brave woman. She passed rapidly +up the staircase to Goddard's room, but she paused as she laid her hand +upon the latch. From within she could hear Mary Goddard's voice, praying +aloud, as she had never heard any one pray before. She paused and +listened, hesitating to interrupt the unhappy lady in such a moment. +Moreover, though her goodwill was boundless, she had not any precise +idea how to manage the defence. But as she stood there, the thought that +the detective might at any moment follow her was predominant. The voice +within the room paused for an instant and Mrs. Ambrose entered, raising +one finger to her lips as though expecting that Mary Goddard would speak +to her. But Mary was not looking, and at first did not notice the +intrusion. She knelt by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, her +hands clasped and clasping the sick man's wounded hand. + +Goddard's face was pale but not deathlike, and his breathing seemed +regular and gentle; but his eyes were almost closed and he seemed not +aware that any one had entered. Mrs. Ambrose was struck by his appearance +which was greatly changed since she had left him half an hour earlier, +his face purple and his harsh moaning continuing unceasingly. She said +to herself that he was probably better. There was all the more reason for +warning Mary Goddard of the new danger that awaited him. She shut the +door and locked it and withdrew the key. At the sound Mary looked +up--then rose to her feet with a sad look of reproach, as though not +wishing to be disturbed. But Mrs. Ambrose came quickly to her side, and +glancing once at Goddard, to see whether he was unconscious, she led her +away from the bed. + +"My dear," she said very kindly, but in a voice trembling with +excitement, "I had to come. There are detectives in the house, clamouring +to take him away--but I will protect you--they shall not do it." + +Mary Goddard started and her eyes stared wildly at her friend. But +presently the look of resigned sadness returned, and a faint and mournful +smile flickered on her lips. + +"I think it is all over," she said. "He is still alive--but he will not +live till they come." + +Then she bit her lip tightly, and all the features of her face trembled a +little. The tears would rise spasmodically, though they were only tears +of pity, not of love. Mrs. Ambrose, the severe, the stern, the eternally +vigilant Mrs. Ambrose, sat down by the window; she put her arm about Mary +Goddard's waist and took her upon her knee as though she had been a +little child and laid her head upon her breast, comforting her as best +she could. And their tears flowed down and mingled together, for many +minutes. + +But once more the sick man's voice was heard; both women started to their +feet and went to his side. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" he moaned faintly. + +"It is I--here I am, Walter, dear Walter--I am with you," answered Mary, +raising him and putting her arm about his neck, while Mrs. Ambrose +arranged the pillows behind him. He opened his eyes as though with a +great effort. + +Some one knocked softly at the door. Mrs. Ambrose left the bedside +quickly and put the key in the lock. + +"Who is there?" she asked, before she opened. + +"I--John. Please let me in." + +Mrs. Ambrose opened and John entered, very pale; she locked the door +again after him. He stood still looking with astonishment at Mrs. Goddard +who still propped the sick man in her arms and hardly noticed him. + +"Why--?" he ejaculated and then checked himself, or rather was checked by +Mrs. Ambrose's look. Then he spoke to her in a whisper. + +"There is an awful row going on between the doctor and the detective," he +said hurriedly under his breath. "They are coming upstairs and the vicar +and Mr. Juxon are trying to part them--I don't know what they are not +saying to each other--" + +"Hush," replied Mrs. Ambrose, "do not disturb him--he was conscious again +just now. This may be the crisis--he may recover. The door is locked--try +and prevent anybody--that is, the detective, from coming in. They will +not dare to break open the door in Mr. Juxon's house." + +"But why is Mrs. Goddard here?" asked John unable to control his +curiosity any longer. He did not mean that she should hear, but as she +laid Goddard's head gently upon the pillows, trying to soothe him to rest +again, if rest it were, she looked up and met John's eyes. + +"Because he is my husband," said she very quietly. + +John laid his hand on Mrs. Ambrose's arm in utmost bewilderment and +looked at her as though to ask if it were true. She nodded gravely. +Before John had time to recover himself from the shock of the news, +footsteps were heard outside, and the loud altercation of angry voices. +John Short leaned his shoulder against the door and put his foot against +it below, expecting an attack. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +When Mr. Ambrose undertook to reason with the detective he went directly +towards the study where John said the man was waiting. But Mr. Booley was +beginning to suspect that the doctor was not coming to speak with him as +the squire had promised, and after hesitating for a few moments followed +John into the library, determining to manage matters himself. As he +opened the door he met Mr. Ambrose coming towards him, and at the same +moment Mr. Juxon and Doctor Longstreet entered from the opposite end of +the long room. The cheerful and active physician was talking in a rather +excited tone. + +"My dear sir," said he, "I cannot pretend to say that the man will or +will not recover. I must see him again. Things look quite differently by +daylight, and six or seven hours may make all the change in the world. To +say that he can be moved to-day or even to-morrow, is absurd. I will +stake my reputation as a practitioner--Hulloa!" + +The exclamation was elicited by Mr. Booley, who had pushed past Mr. +Ambrose and stood confronting the doctor with a look which was intended +to express a combination of sarcasm, superior cunning and authority. + +"This is Mr. Booley," explained the squire. "Doctor Longstreet will tell +you what he has been telling me," he added turning to the detective. + +"I must see this man instantly," said the latter somewhat roughly. "I +believe I am being trifled with, and I will not submit to it. No, sir, I +will not be trifled with, I assure you! I must see this man at once. It +is absolutely necessary to identify him." + +"And I say," said Doctor Longstreet with equal firmness, "that I must see +him first, in order to judge whether you can see him or not--" + +"It is for me to judge of that," returned Mr. Booley, with more haste +than logic. + +"After you have seen him, you cannot judge whether you ought to see him +or not," retorted Doctor Longstreet growing red in the face. The +detective attempted to push past him. At this moment John Short hastily +left the room and fled upstairs to warn Mrs. Ambrose of what was +happening. + +"Really," said Mr. Ambrose, making a vain attempt to stop the course of +events, "this is very unwarrantable." + +"Unwarrantable!" cried Mr. Booley. "Unwarrantable, indeed! I have the +warrant in my pocket. Mr. Juxon, sir, I fear I must insist." + +"Permit me," said Mr. Juxon, planting his square and sturdy form between +the door and the detective. "You may certainly insist, but you must begin +by listening to reason." + +Charles Juxon had been accustomed to command others for the greater part +of his life, and though he was generally the most unobtrusive and gentle +of men, when he raised his voice in a tone of authority his words carried +weight. His blue eyes stared hard at Mr. Booley, and there was something +imposing in his square head--even in the unruffled smoothness of his +brown hair. Mr. Booley paused and discontentedly thrust his hands into +his pockets. + +"Well?" he said. + +"Simply this," answered the squire. "You may accompany us to the door of +the room; you may wait with me, while Doctor Longstreet goes in to look +at the patient. If the man is unconscious you may go in and see him. If +he chances to be in a lucid interval, you must wait until he is +unconscious again. It will not be long. That is perfectly reasonable." + +"Perfectly," echoed Mr. Ambrose, biting his long upper lip and glaring as +fiercely at Mr. Booley as though he had said it all himself. + +"Absolutely reasonable," added Doctor Longstreet. + +"Well, we will try it," said the detective moodily. "But I warn you I +will not be trifled with." + +"Nobody is trifling with you," answered the squire coldly. "This way if +you please." And he forthwith led the way upstairs, followed by Mr. +Booley, the physician and the vicar. + +Before they reached the door, however, the discussion broke out again. +Mr. Booley had been held in check for a few moments by Mr. Juxon's +determined manner, but as he followed the squire he began to regret that +he had yielded so far and he made a fresh assertion of his rights. + +"I cannot see why you want to keep me outside," he said. "What difference +can it make, I should like to know?" + +"You will have to take my word for it that it does make a difference," +said the doctor, testily. "If you frighten the man, he will die. Now +then, here we are." + +"I don't like your tone, sir," said Booley angrily, again trying to push +past the physician. "I think I must insist, after all. I will go in with +you--I tell you I will, sir--don't stop me." + +Doctor Longstreet, who was fifteen or twenty years older than the +detective but still strong and active, gripped his arm quickly, and held +him back. + +"If you go into that room without my permission, and if the man dies of +fright, I will have an action brought against you for manslaughter," he +said in a loud voice. + +"And I will support it," said the squire. "I am justice of the peace +here, and what is more, I am in my own house. Do not think your position +will protect you." + +Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew +back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the +door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word +of the altercation had been heard within. + +"Who is there?" asked John, who though he had heard all that had been +said was uncertain of the issue. + +"Let in Doctor Longstreet," said the squire's voice. + +But meanwhile Mrs. Ambrose and Mary Goddard were standing on each side of +the sick man. He must have heard the noises outside, and they conveyed +some impression to his brain. + +"Mary, Mary!" he groaned indistinctly. "Save me--they are coming--I +cannot get away--softly, he is coming--now--I shall just catch him as he +goes by--Ugh! that dog--oh! oh!--" + +With a wild shriek, the wretched man sprang up, upon his knees, his eyes +starting out, his face transfigured with horror. For one instant he +remained thus, half-supported by the two terror-struck women; then with a +groan his head drooped forward upon his breast and he fell back heavily +upon the pillows, breathing still but quite unconscious. + +Doctor Longstreet entered at that moment and ran to his side. But when he +saw him he paused. Even Mrs. Ambrose was white with horror, and Mary +Goddard stood motionless, staring down at her husband, her hands gripping +the disordered coverlet convulsively. + +Mr. Juxon had entered, too, while Mr. Ambrose remained outside with the +detective, who had been frightened into submission by the physician's +last threat. The squire saw what was happening and paced the room in the +greatest agitation, wringing his hands together and biting his lips. John +had closed the door and came to the foot of the bed and looked at +Goddard's face. After a pause, Doctor Longstreet spoke. + +"We might possibly restore him to consciousness for a moment--" + +"Don't!" cried Mary Goddard, starting as though some one had struck her. +"That is--" she added quickly, in broken tones, "unless he can live!" + +"No," answered the physician, gravely, but looking hard at the unhappy +woman. "He is dying." + +Goddard's staring eyes were glazed and white. Twice and three times he +gasped for breath, and then lay quite still. It was all over. Mary gazed +at his dead face for one instant, then a faint smile parted her lips: she +raised one hand to her forehead as though dazed. + +"He is safe now," she murmured very faintly. Her limbs relaxed suddenly, +and she fell straight backwards. Charles Juxon, who was watching her, +sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Then he bore her from the +room, swiftly, while John Short who was as white and speechless as the +rest opened the door. + +"You may go in now," said Juxon as he passed Booley and Mr. Ambrose in +the passage, with his burden in his arms. A few steps farther on he met +Holmes the butler, who carried a telegram on a salver. + +"For Mr. Short, sir," said the impassive servant, not appearing to notice +anything strange in the fact that his master was carrying the inanimate +body of Mary Goddard. + +"He is in there--go in," said Juxon hurriedly as he went on his way. + +The detective and the vicar had already entered the room where the dead +convict was lying. All stood around the bed, gazing at his pale face as +he lay. + +"A telegram for Mr. Short," said Holmes from the door. John started and +took the despatch from the butler's hands. He hastily tore it open, +glanced at the contents and thrust it into his pocket. Every one looked +round. + +"What is it, John?" whispered the vicar, who was nearest to him. + +"Oh--nothing. I am first in the Tripos, that is all," answered John very +simply, as though it were not a matter of the least consequence. + +Through all those months of untiring labour, through privation and +anxiety, through days of weariness and nights of study, he had looked +forward to the triumph, often doubting but never despairing. But he had +little guessed that the news of victory would reach him at such a moment. +It was nothing, he said; and indeed as he stood with the group of pale +and awe-struck spectators by the dead man's bed, he felt that the +greatest thing which had ever happened to him was as nothing compared +with the tragedy of which he had witnessed the last act. + +It was all over. There was nothing more to be said; the convict had +escaped the law in the end, at the very moment when the hand of the law +was upon him. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, buried him "four by +six by two," grumbling at the parish depth as of yore, and a simple stone +cross marked his nameless grave. There it stands to this day in the +churchyard of Billingsfield, Essex, in the shadow of the ancient abbey. + +All these things happened a long time ago, according to Billingsfield +reckoning, but the story of the tramp who attacked Squire Juxon and was +pulled down by the bloodhound is still told by the villagers, and Mr. +Gall, being once in good cheer, vaguely hinted that he knew who the tramp +was; but from the singular reticence he has always shown in the matter, +and from the prosperity which has attended his constabulary career, it +may well be believed that he has a life interest in keeping his counsel. +Indeed as it is nearly ten years since Mr. Reid buried the poor tramp, it +is possible that Mr. Gall's memory may be already failing in regard to +events which occurred at so remote a date. + +It was but an incident, though it was perhaps the only incident of any +interest which ever occurred in Billingsfield; but until it reached its +termination it agitated the lives of the quiet people at the vicarage, +at the cottage and at the Hall as violently as human nature can be moved. +It was long, too, before those who had witnessed the scene of Goddard's +death could shake off the impression of those awful last moments. Yet +time does all things wonderful and in the course of not many months there +remained of Goddard's memory only a great sense of relief that he was no +longer alive. Mary Goddard, indeed, was very ill for a long time; and but +for Mrs. Ambrose's tender care of her, might have followed her husband +within a few weeks of his death. But the good lady never left her, until +she was herself again--absolutely herself, saving that as time passed and +her deep wounds healed her sorrows were forgotten, and she seemed to +bloom out into a second youth. + +So it came to pass that within two years Charles Juxon once more asked +her to be his wife. She hesitated long--fully half an hour, the squire +thought; but in the end she put out her small hand and laid it in his, +and thanked God that a man so generous and true, and whom she so honestly +loved, was to be her husband as well as her friend and protector. Charles +James Juxon smoothed his hair with his other hand, and his blue eyes were +a little moistened. + +"God bless you, Mary," he said; and that was all. + +Then the Reverend Augustin Ambrose married them in the church of Saint +Mary's, between Christmas and New Year's Day; and the wedding-party +consisted of Mrs. Ambrose and Eleanor Goddard and John Short, Fellow of +Trinity College, Cambridge. And again years passed by, and Nellie grew in +beauty as John grew in reputation; and Nellie had both brothers and +sisters, as she had longed to have, and to her, their father was as her +own; so that there was much harmony and peace and goodwill towards men +in Billingsfield Hall. John came often and stayed long, and was ever +welcome; for though Mary Goddard's youth returned with the daffodils and +the roses of the first spring after Walter's death, John's fleeting +passion returned not, and perhaps its place was better taken. Year by +year, as he came to refresh himself from hard work with a breath of the +country air, he saw the little girl grow to the young maiden of sixteen, +and he saw her beauty ripen again to the fulness of womanhood; and at +last, when she was one and twenty years of age he in his turn put out his +hand and asked her to take him--which she did, for better or worse, but +to all appearances for better. For John Short had prospered mightily in +the world, and had come to think his first great success as very small +and insignificant as compared with what he had done since. But his old +simplicity was in him yet, and was the cause of much of his prosperity, +as it generally is when it is found together with plenty of brains. It +was doubtless because he was so very simple that when he found that he +loved Eleanor Goddard he did not hesitate to ask the convict's daughter +to be his wife. His interview with Mr. Juxon was characteristic. + +"You know what you are doing, John?" asked the squire. He always called +him John, now. + +"Perfectly," replied the scholar, "I am doing precisely what my betters +have done before me with such admirable result." + +"Betters?" + +"You. You knew about it all and you married her mother. I know all about +it, and I wish to marry herself." + +"You know that she never heard the story?" + +"Yes. She never shall." + +"No, John--she never must. Well, all good go with you." + +So Charles Juxon gave his consent. And Mary Juxon consented too; but for +the first time in many years the tears rose again to her eyes, and she +laid her hand on John's arm, as they walked together in the park. + +"Oh, John," she said, "do you think it is right--for you yourself?" + +"Of course I think so," quoth John stoutly. + +"You John--with your reputation, your success, with the whole world at +your feet--you ought not to marry the daughter of--of such a man." + +"My dear Mrs. Juxon," said John Short, "is she not your daughter as well +as his? Pray, pray do not mention that objection. I assure you I have +thought it all over. There is really nothing more to be said, which I +have not said to myself. Dear Mrs. Juxon--do say Yes!" + +"You are very generous, John, as well as great," she answered looking up +to his face. "Well--I have nothing to say. You must do as you think best. +I am sure you will be kind to Nellie, for I have known you for ten +years--you may tell her I am very glad--" she stopped, her eyes brimming +over with tears. + +"Do you remember how angry I was once, when you told me to go and talk to +Nellie?" said John. "It was just here, too--" + +Mary Juxon laughed happily and brushed the tears from her eyes. So it was +all settled. + +Once more the Reverend Augustin Ambrose united two loving hearts before +the altar of Saint Mary's. He was well stricken in years, and his hair +and beard were very white. Mrs. Ambrose also grew more imposing with each +succeeding season, but her face was softer than of old, and her voice +more gentle. For the sorrow and suffering of a few days had drawn +together the hearts of all those good people with strong bands, and a +deep affection had sprung up between them all. The good old lady felt as +though Mary Juxon were her daughter--Mary Juxon, by whom she had stood in +the moment of direst trial and terror, whom she had tended in illness and +cheered in recovery. And the younger woman's heart had gone out towards +her, feeling how good a thing it is to find a friend in need, and +learning to value in her happiness the wealth of human kindness she had +found in her adversity. + +They are like one family, now, having a common past, a common present, +and a common future, and there is no dissension among them. Honest and +loyal men and women may meet day after day, and join hands and exchange +greetings, without becoming firm friends, for the very reason that they +have no need of each other. But if the storm of a great sorrow breaks +among them and they call out to each other for help, and bear the brunt +of the weather hand in hand, the seed of a deeper affection is brought +into their midst; and when the tempest is past the sweet flower of +friendship springs up in the moistened furrows of their lives. + +So those good people in the lonely parish of Billingsfield gathered round +Mary Goddard, as they called her then, and round poor little Nellie, and +did their best to protect the mother and the child from harm and +undeserved suffering; and afterwards, when it was all over, and there was +nothing more to be feared in the future, they looked into each other's +faces and felt that they were become as brothers and sisters, and that so +long as they should live--may it be long indeed!--there was a bond +between them which could never be broken. So it was that Mrs. Ambrose's +face softened and her voice was less severe than it had been. + +Mary Juxon is the happiest of women; happy in her husband, in her +eldest daughter, in John Short and in the little children with bright +faces and ringing voices who nestle at her knee or climb over the sturdy +sailor-squire, and pull his great beard and make him laugh. They will +never know, any more than Nellie knew, all that their mother suffered; +and as she looks upon them and strokes their long fair hair and listens +to their laughter, she says to herself that it was perhaps almost worth +while to have been dragged down towards the depths of shame for the sake +of at last enjoying such pride and glory of happy motherhood. + + +THE END. + + + + +THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. MARION CRAWFORD + + I. Mr. Isaacs + II. Doctor Claudius + III. To Leeward + IV. A Roman Singer + V. An American Politician + VI. Marzio's Crucifix Zoroaster + VII. A Tale of a Lonely Parish + VIII. Paul Patoff + IX. Love in Idleness: A Tale of Bar Harbor Marion Darche + X. Saracinesca + XI. Sant' Ilario + XII. Don Orsino + XIII. Corleone: A Sicilian Story + XIV. With the Immortals + XV. Greifenstein + XVI. A Cigarette-Maker's Romance Khaled + XVII. The Witch of Prague + XVIII. The Three Fates + XIX. Taquisara + XX. The Children of the King + XXI. Pietro Ghisleri + XXII. Katharine Lauderdale + XXIII. The Ralstons + XXIV. Casa Braccio (Part I) + XXV. Casa Braccio (Part II) + XXVI. Adam Johnstone's Son A Rose of Yesterday + XXVII. Via Crucia + XXVIII. In the Palace of the King + XXIX. Marietta: A Maid of Venice + XXX. Cecilia: A Story of Modern Rome + XXXI. The Heart of Rome + XXXII. Whosoever Shall Offend + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH*** + + +******* This file should be named 13597-8.txt or 13597-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/3/5/9/13597 + + + +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.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +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 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://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +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://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/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 including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/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/13597-8.zip b/old/13597-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..929c132 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13597-8.zip diff --git a/old/13597.txt b/old/13597.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5dbe202 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13597.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11568 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Tale of a Lonely Parish, by F. Marion +Crawford + + +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: A Tale of a Lonely Parish + +Author: F. Marion Crawford + +Release Date: October 4, 2004 [eBook #13597] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH*** + + +E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH + +by + +F. MARION CRAWFORD + +1886 + + + + + + + +TO My MOTHER + +I DEDICATE THIS TALE A MEAN TOKEN OF A LIFELONG AFFECTION + +SORRENTO, Christmas Day, 1885 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +The Reverend Augustin Ambrose would gladly have given up taking pupils. +He was growing old and his sight was beginning to trouble him; he was +very weary of Thucydides, of Homer, of the works of Mr. Todhunter of +which the green bindings expressed a hope still unrealised, of conic +sections--even of his beloved Horace. He was tired of the stupidities of +the dull young men who were sent to him because they could not "keep up", +and he had long ceased to be surprised or interested by the remarks of +the clever ones who were sent to him because their education had not +prepared them for an English University. The dull ones could never be +made to understand anything, though Mr. Ambrose generally succeeded in +making them remember enough to matriculate, by dint of ceaseless +repetition and a system of _memoria technica_ which embraced most things +necessary to the salvation of dull youth. The clever ones, on the other +hand, generally lacked altogether the solid foundation of learning; they +could construe fluently but did not know a long syllable from a short +one; they had vague notions of elemental algebra and no notion at all of +arithmetic, but did very well in conic sections; they knew nothing of +prosody, but dabbled perpetually in English blank verse; altogether they +knew most of those things which they need not have known and they knew +none of those things thoroughly which they ought to have known. After +twenty years of experience Mr. Ambrose ascertained that it was easier to +teach a stupid boy than a clever one, but that he would prefer not to +teach at all. + +Unfortunately the small tithes of a small country parish in Essex did not +furnish a sufficient income for his needs. He had been a Fellow of +Trinity College, Cambridge, within a few years of taking his degree, +wherein he had obtained high honours. But he had married and had found +himself obliged to accept the first living offered to him, to wit, the +vicarage of Billingsfield, whereof his college held the rectory and +received the great tithes. The entire income he obtained from his cure +never at any time exceeded three hundred and forty-seven pounds, and in +the year when it reached that high figure there had been an unusually +large number of marriages. It was not surprising that the vicar should +desire to improve his circumstances by receiving one or two pupils. He +had married young, as has been said, and there had been children born to +him, a son and a daughter. Mrs. Ambrose was a good manager and a good +mother, and her husband had worked hard. Between them they had brought up +their children exceedingly well. The son had in his turn entered the +church, had exhibited a faculty of pushing his way which had not +characterised his father, had got a curacy in a fashionable Yorkshire +watering-place, and was thought to be on the way to obtain a first-rate +living. In the course of time, too, the daughter had lost her heart to a +young physician who had brilliant prospects and some personal fortune, +and the Reverend Augustin Ambrose had given his consent to the union. Nor +had he been disappointed. The young physician had risen rapidly in his +profession, had been elected a member of the London College, had +transferred himself to the capital and now enjoyed a rising practice in +Chelsea. So great was his success that it was thought he would before +long purchase the goodwill of an old practitioner who dwelt in the +neighbourhood of Brompton Crescent, and who, it was said, might shortly +be expected to retire. + +It will be seen, therefore, that if Mr. Ambrose's life had not been very +brilliant, his efforts had on the whole been attended with success. His +children were both happy and independent and no longer needed his +assistance or support; his wife, the excellent Mrs. Ambrose, enjoyed +unfailing health and good spirits; he himself was still vigorous and +active, and as yet found no difficulty in obtaining a couple of pupils at +two hundred pounds a year each, for he had early got a reputation for +successfully preparing young gentlemen with whom no other private tutor +could do anything, and he had established the scale of his prices +accordingly. It is true that he had sacrificed other things for the sake +of imparting tuition, and more than once he had hesitated and asked +himself whether he should go on. Indeed, when he graduated, it was +thought that he would soon make himself remarkable by the publication of +some scholarly work; it was foretold that he might become a famous +preacher; it was asserted that he was a general favourite with the +Fellows of Trinity and would get a proportionately fat living--but he had +committed the unpardonable sin of allowing his chances of fortune to slip +from him. He had given up his fellowship, had married and had accepted an +insignificant country living. He asked nothing, and he got nothing. He +never attracted the notice of his bishop by doing anything extraordinary, +nor the notice of the public by appearing in print. He baptized, married +and buried the people of Billingsfield, Essex, and he took private +pupils. He wrote a sermon once a fortnight, and revised old ones for the +other three occasions out of four. His sermons were good in their way, +but were intended for simple folk and did no justice to the powers he had +certainly possessed in his youth. Indeed, as years went on, the dry +routine of his life produced its inevitable effect upon his mind, and the +productions of Mr. Ambrose grew to be exceedingly commonplace; and the +more commonplace he became, the more he regretted having done so little +with the faculties he enjoyed, and the more weary he became of the daily +task of galvanising the dull minds of his pupils into a spasmodic +activity, just sufficient to leap the ditch that separates the schoolboy +from the undergraduate. He had not only educated his children and seen +them provided for in the world; he had also saved a little money, and he +had insured his life for five hundred pounds. There was no longer any +positive necessity for continuing to teach, as there had been thirty +years ago, when he first married. + +So much for the circumstances of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose. +Personally he was a man of good presence, five feet ten inches in height, +active and strong, of a ruddy complexion with smooth, thick grey hair and +a plentiful grey beard. He shaved his upper lip however, greatly to the +detriment of his appearance, for the said upper lip was very long and the +absence of the hirsute appendage showed a very large mouth with very thin +lips, generally compressed into an expression of remarkable obstinacy. +His nose was both broad and long and his grey eyes were bright and +aggressive in their glance. As a matter of fact Mr. Ambrose was combative +by nature, but his fighting instincts seem to have been generally +employed in the protection of rights he already possessed, rather than in +pushing on in search of fresh fields of activity. He was an active man, +fond of walking alone and able to walk any distance he pleased; a +charitable man with the charity peculiar to people of exceedingly +economical tendencies and possessing small fixed incomes. He would give +himself vast personal trouble to assist distress, as though aware that +since he could not give much money to the poor he was bound to give the +best of himself. The good Mrs. Ambrose seconded him in this as in all his +works; labouring hard when hard work could do any good, but giving +material assistance with a sparing hand. It sufficiently defines the two +to say that although many a surly labourer in the parish grumbled that +the vicar and his wife were "oncommon near", when money was concerned, +there was nevertheless no trouble in which their aid was not invoked and +their advice asked. But the indigent labourer not uncommonly retrieved +his position by asking a shilling of one of the young gentlemen at the +vicarage, who were generally open-handed, good-looking boys, blessed with +a great deal more money than brains. + +At the time when this tale opens, however, it chanced that one of the two +young gentlemen at the vicarage was by no means in the position peculiar +to the majority of youths who sought the good offices of the Reverend +Augustin Ambrose. John Short, aged eighteen, was in all respects a +remarkable contrast to his companion the Honourable Cornelius Angleside. +John Short was apparently very poor; the Honourable Cornelius on the +other hand had plenty of money. Short was undeniably clever; Angleside +was uncommonly dull. Short was the son of a decayed literary man; +Angleside was the son of a nobleman. Short was by nature a hard worker; +Angleside was amazingly idle. Short meant to do something in the world; +Angleside had early determined to do nothing. + +It would not be easy to define the reasons which induced Mr. Ambrose to +receive John Short under his roof. He had never before taken a pupil on +any but his usual terms, and at his time of life it was strange that he +should break through the rule. But here his peculiar views of charity +came into play. Short's father had been his own chum at school, and his +friend at college, but had failed to reap any substantial benefits from +his education. He had been a scholar in his way, but his way had not been +the way of other scholars, and when he had gone up for honours he had got +a bad third in classics. He would not enter the church, he could not +enter the law, he had no interest whatever, and he found himself +naturally thrust into the profession of literature. For a time he had +nearly starved; then he had met with some success and had, of course, +married without hesitation; after this he had had more misfortunes. His +wife had died leaving him an only son, whom in course of time he had sent +to school. But school was too expensive and he had reluctantly taken the +boy home again. It was in a fit of despair that he wrote to his old +friend Augustin Ambrose, asking his advice. The Reverend Augustin +considered the matter with the assistance of his wife, and being +charitable souls, they determined that they must help Short to educate +his son. Accordingly the vicar of Billingsfield wrote to his old friend +to say that if he could manage to pay a small sum for the lad's board, +he, the vicar, would complete the boy's education, so that he might at +least have a chance in the world. Short accepted the offer with boundless +gratitude and had hitherto not failed to pay the vicar the small sum +agreed upon. The result of all this was that Mr. Ambrose had grown very +fond of John, and John had derived great advantage from his position. He +possessed precisely what his father had lacked, namely a strong bent in +one direction, and there was no doubt that he would distinguish himself +if he had a chance. That chance the vicar had determined to give him. He +had made up his mind that his old friend's son should go to college and +show what he was able to do. It was not an easy thing to manage, but the +vicar had friends in Cambridge and John had brains; moreover the vicar +and John were both very obstinate people and had both determined upon the +same plan, so that there was a strong probability of their succeeding. + +John Short was eighteen years of age, neither particularly good-looking +nor by any means the reverse. He had what bankers commonly call a lucky +face; that is to say he had a certain very prepossessing look of honesty +in his blue eyes, and a certain look of energetic goodwill in his +features. When he was much older and wore a beard he passed for a +handsome man, but at eighteen he could only boast the smallest of fair +whiskers, and when anybody took the trouble to look long at him, which +was not often, the verdict was that his jaw was too heavy and his mouth +too obstinate. In complexion he was fair, and healthy to look at, +generally sunburned in the summer, for he had a habit of reading out of +doors; his laugh was very pleasant, though it was rarely heard; his eyes +were honest but generally thoughtful; his frame was sturdy and already +inclined rather to strength than to graceful proportion; his head matched +his body well, being broad and well-shaped with plenty of prominence over +the brows and plenty of fulness above the temples. He had a way of +standing as though it would not be easy to move him, and a way of +expressing his opinion which seemed to challenge contradiction. But he +was not a combative boy. If any one argued with him, it soon appeared +that he was not really argumentative, but merely enthusiastic. It was not +necessary to agree with him, and there was small use in contradicting +him. The more he talked the more enthusiastic he grew as he developed his +own views; until seeing that he was not understood or that he was merely +laughed at, he would end his discourse with a merry laugh at himself, or +a shy apology for having talked so much. But the vicar assured his wife +that the boy's Greek and Latin verses were something very extraordinary +indeed, and much better than his own in his best days. For John was +passionately fond of the classics and did not propose to acquire any more +mathematical knowledge than was strictly necessary for his matriculation +and "little-go." He meant to be a famous scholar and he meant to get a +fellowship at his college in order to be perfectly independent and to +help his father. + +John was a constant source of wonder to his companion the Honourable +Cornelius Angleside, who remembered to have seen fellows of that sort at +Eton but had never got near enough to them to know what they were really +like. Cornelius had a vague idea that there was some trick about +appearing to know so much and that those reading chaps were awful +humbugs. How the trick was performed he did not venture to explain, but +he was as firmly persuaded that it was managed by some species of +conjuring as that Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook performed their wonders by +sleight of hand. That one human brain should actually contain the amount +of knowledge John Short appeared to possess was not credible to the +Honourable Cornelius, and the latter spent more of his time in trying to +discover how John "did it" than in trying to "do it" himself. +Nevertheless, young Angleside liked Short after his own fashion, and +Short did not dislike Angleside. John's father had given him to +understand that as a general rule persons of wealth and good birth were a +set of overbearing, purse-proud bullies, who considered men of genius to +be little better than a set of learned monkeys, certainly not good enough +to black their boots. For John's father in his misfortunes had imbibed +sundry radical notions formerly peculiar to poor literary men, and not +yet altogether extinct, and he had accordingly warned his son that all +mammon was the mammon of unrighteousness, and that the people who +possessed it were the natural enemies of people who had to live by their +brains. But John had very soon discovered that though Cornelius Angleside +possessed the three qualifications for perdition, in the shape of birth, +wealth and ignorance, against which his poor father railed unceasingly, +he succeeded nevertheless in making himself very good company. Angleside +was not overbearing, he was not purse-proud and he was not a bully. On +the contrary he was unobtrusive and sufficiently simple in manner, and he +certainly never mentioned the subject of his family or fortune; John +rather pitied him, on the whole, until he began to discover that +Angleside looked up to him on account of his mental superiority, and then +John, being very human, began to like him. + +The life at the vicarage of Billingsfield, Essex, was not remarkable for +anything but its extreme regularity. Prayers, breakfast, work, lunch, a +walk, work, dinner, work, prayers, bed. The programme never varied, save +as the seasons introduced some change in the hours of the establishment. +The vicar, who was fond of a little gardening and amused himself with a +variety of experiments in the laying of asparagus beds, found occasional +excitement in the pursuit of a stray cat which had managed to climb his +wire netting and get at the heads of his favourite vegetable, in which +thrilling chase he was usually aided by an old brown retriever answering, +when he answered at all, to the name of Carlo, and by the Honourable +Cornelius, whose skill in throwing stones was as phenomenal as his +ignorance of Latin quantities. The play was invariably opened by old +Reynolds, the ancient and bow-legged gardener, groom and man of all work +at the vicarage. + +"Please sir, there's Simon Gunn's cat in the sparrergrass." The +information was accompanied by a sort of chuckle of evil satisfaction +which at once roused the sleeping passions of the Reverend Augustin +Ambrose. + +"Dear me, Reynolds, then why don't you turn her out?" and without waiting +for an answer, the excellent vicar would spring from his seat and rush +down the lawn in the direction of the beds, closely followed by the +Honourable Cornelius, who picked up stones from the gravel path as he +ran, and whose long legs made short work of the iron fence at the bottom +of the garden. Meanwhile the aged Reynolds let Carlo loose from the yard +and the hunt was prosecuted with great boldness and ingenuity. The +vicar's object was to get the cat out of the asparagus bed as soon as +possible without hurting her, for he was a humane man and would not have +hurt a fly. Cornelius, on the other hand, desired the game to last as +long as possible, and endeavoured to prevent the cat's escape by always +hitting the wire netting at the precise spot where she was trying to get +over it. In this way he would often succeed in getting as much as half an +hour's respite from Horace. At last the vicar, panting with his exertions +and bathed in perspiration, would protest against the form of assault. + +"Really, Angleside", he would say, "I believe I could throw straighter +myself. I'm quite sure Carlo can get her out if you leave him alone". + +Whereupon Cornelius would put his hands in his pockets and look on, and +in a few minutes, when the cat had been driven out and the vicar's back +was turned, he would slip a sixpence into old Reynold's hand, and follow +his tutor reluctantly back to the study. Whether there was any connection +between the cat and the sixpence is uncertain, but during the last months +of Angleside's stay at the vicarage the ingenuity of Simon Gunn's yellow +cat in getting over the wire netting reached such a pitch that the vicar +began to prepare a letter to the Bishop Stortford _Chronicle_ on the +relations generally existing between cats and asparagus beds. + +Another event in the life of the vicarage was the periodical lameness of +the vicar's strawberry mare, followed by the invariable discovery that +George Horsnell the village blacksmith had run a nail into her foot when +he shoed her last. Invariably, also, the vicar threatened that in future +the mare should be shod by Hawkins the rival blacksmith, who was a +dissenter and had consequently never been employed by the vicarage. +Moreover it was generally rumoured once every year that old Nat Barker, +the octogenarian cripple who had not been able to stand upon his feet for +twenty years, was at the point of death. He invariably recovered, +however, in time to put in an appearance by proxy at the distribution of +a certain dole of a loaf and a shilling on boxing day. It was told also +that in remote times the Puckeridge hounds had once come that way and +that the fox had got into the churchyard. A repetition of this stirring +event was anxiously looked for during many years, every time that the +said pack met within ten miles of Billingsfield, but hitherto it had been +looked for in vain. On the whole the life at the vicarage was not +eventful, and the studies of the two young men who imbibed learning at +the feet of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose were rarely interrupted. + +Mrs. Ambrose herself represented the feminine element in the society of +the little place. The new doctor was a strange man, suspected of being a +free-thinker, and he was not married. The Hall, for there was a Hall at +Billingsfield, was uninhabited, and had been uninhabited for years. The +estate which belonged to it was unimportant and moreover was in Chancery +and seemed likely to stay there, for reasons no one ever mentioned at +Billingsfield, because no one knew anything about them. From time to time +a legal looking personage drove up to the Duke's Head, which was kept by +Mr. Abraham Boosey, who was also undertaker to the parish, and which was +thought to be a very good inn. The legal personage stayed a day or two, +spending most of his time at the Hall and in driving about to the +scattered farms which represented the estate, but he never came to the +vicarage, nor did the vicar ever seem to know what he was doing nor why +he came. "He came on business"--that was all that anybody knew. His +business was to collect rents, of course; but what he did with them, no +one was bold enough to surmise. The estate was in Chancery, it was said, +and the definition conveyed about as much to the mind of the average +inhabitant of Billingsfield, as if he had been informed that the moon was +in perigee or the sun in Scorpio. The practical result of its being in +Chancery was that no one lived there. + +John Short liked Mrs. Ambrose and the Honourable Cornelius behaved to her +with well bred affability. She always said Cornelius had very nice +manners, as indeed he had and had need to have. Occasionally, perhaps +four or five times in the year, the Reverend Edward Pewlay, who had what +he called a tenor voice, and his wife, who played the pianoforte very +fairly, came over to assist at a Penny Reading. He lived "over Harlow +way," as the natives expressed it; he was what was called in those parts +a rabid Anglican, because he preached in his surplice and had services on +the Saints' days, and the vicar of Billingsfield did not sympathise in +his views. Nevertheless he was very useful at Penny Readings, and on one +of these occasions produced a very ingenious ghost for the delectation of +the rustics, by means of a piece of plate glass and a couple of lamps. + +There had indeed been festivities at the vicarage to which as many as +three clergymen's wives had been invited, but these were rare indeed. For +months at a time Mrs. Ambrose reigned in undisputed possession of the +woman's social rights in Billingsfield. She was an excellent person in +every way. She had once been handsome and even now she was fine-looking, +of goodly stature, if also of goodly weight; rosy, even rubicund, in +complexion, and rotund of feature; looking at you rather severely out of +her large grey eyes, but able to smile very cheerfully and to show an +uncommonly good set of teeth; twisting her thick grey hair into a small +knot at the back of her head and then covering it with a neatly made cap +which she considered becoming to her time of life; dressed always with +extreme simplicity and neatness, glorying in her good sense and in her +stout shoes; speaking of things which she called "neat" with a devotional +admiration and expressing the extremest height of her disapprobation when +she said anything was "very untidy." A motherly woman, a practical woman, +a good housekeeper and a good wife, careful of small things because +generally only small things came in her way, devotedly attached to her +husband, whom she regarded with perfect justice as the best man of her +acquaintance, adding, however, with somewhat precipitous rashness that he +was the best man in the world. She took also a great interest in his +pupils and busied herself mightily with their welfare. Since the arrival +of the new doctor who was suspected of free-thinking, she had shown a +strong leaning towards homoeopathy, and prescribed small pellets of +belladonna for the Honourable Cornelius's cold and infinitesimal drops of +aconite for John Short's headaches, until she observed that John never +had a headache unless he had worked too much, and Angleside always had a +cold when he did not want to work at all. Especially in the department of +the commissariat she showed great activity, and the reputation the vicar +had acquired for feeding his pupils well had perhaps more to do with his +success than he imagined. She was never tired of repeating that +Englishmen needed plenty of good food, and she had no principles which +she did not practise. She even thought it right to lecture young +Angleside upon his idleness at stated intervals. He always replied with +great gentleness that he was awfully stupid, you know, and Mr. Ambrose +was awfully good about it and he hoped he should not be pulled when he +went up. And strange to relate he actually passed his examination and +matriculated, to his own immense astonishment and to the no small honour +and glory of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, vicar of Billingsfield, +Essex. But when that great day arrived certain events occurred which are +worthy to be chronicled and remembered. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +In the warm June weather young Angleside went up to pass his examination +for entrance at Trinity. There is nothing particularly interesting or +worthy of note in that simple process, though at that time the custom of +imposing an examination had only been recently imported from Oxford. For +one whole day forty or fifty young fellows from all parts of the country +sat at the long dining-tables in the beautiful old hall and wrote as +busily as they could, answering the printed questions before them, and +eyeing each other curiously from time to time. The weather was warm and +sultry, the trees were all in full leaf and Cambridge was deserted. Only +a few hard-reading men, who stayed up during the Long, wandered out with +books at the backs of the colleges or strayed slowly through the empty +courts, objects of considerable interest to the youths who had come up +for the entrance examination--chiefly pale men in rather shabby clothes +with old gowns and battered caps, and a general appearance of being the +worse for wear. + +Angleside had been in Cambridge before and consequently lost no time in +returning to Billingsfield when the examination was over. Short was to +spend the summer at the vicarage, reading hard until the term began, when +he was to go up and compete for a minor scholarship; Angleside was to +wait until he heard whether he had passed, and was then going abroad to +meet his father and to rest from the extreme exertion of mastering the +"Apology" and the first books of the "Memorabilia." John drove over to +meet the Honourable Cornelius, who was in a terrible state of anxiety and +left him no peace on the way asking him again and again to repeat the +answers to the questions which had been proposed, reckoning up the ones +he had answered wrong and the ones he thought he might have answered +right, and coming each time to a different conclusion, finally lighting a +huge brierwood pipe and swearing "that it was a beastly shame to subject +human beings to such awful torture." John calmed him by saying he fancied +Cornelius had "got through"; for John's words were a species of gospel to +Cornelius. By the time they reached the vicarage Angleside felt sanguine +of his success. + +The vicar was not visible. It was a strange and unheard of thing--there +were visitors in the drawing-room. This doubtless accounted for the fact +that the fly from the Duke's Head was standing on the opposite side of +the road. The two young men went into their study, which was on the +ground floor and opened upon the passage which led to the drawing-room +from the little hall. Angleside remarked that by leaving the door open +they would catch a glimpse of the visitor when he went out. But the +visitor stayed long. The curiosity of the two was wrought up to a high +pitch; it was many months since there had been a real visitor at the +vicarage. Angleside suggested going out and finding old Reynolds--he +always knew everything that was going on. + +"If we only wait long enough," said Short philosophically, "they are sure +to come out." + +"Perhaps," returned Cornelius rather doubtfully. + +"They" did come out. The drawing-room door opened and there was a sound +of voices. It was a woman's voice, and a particularly sweet voice, too. +Still no one came down the passage. The lady seemed to be lingering in +taking her leave. Then there was a sound of small feet and suddenly a +little girl stood before the open door of the study, looking wonderingly +at the two young men. Short thought he had never seen such a beautiful +child. She could not have been more than seven or eight years old, and +was not tall for her age; a delicate little figure, all in black, with +long brown curls upon her shoulders, flowing abundantly from beneath a +round black sailor's hat that was set far back upon her head. The child's +face was rather pale than very fair, of a beautiful transparent paleness, +with the least tinge of colour in the cheeks; her great violet eyes gazed +wonderingly into the study, and her lips parted in childlike uncertainty, +while her little gloved hand rested on the door-post as though to get a +sense of security from something so solid. + +It was only for a moment. Both the young fellows smiled at the child +unconsciously. Perhaps she thought they were laughing at her; she turned +and ran away again; then passed a second time, stealing a long glance at +the two strangers, but followed immediately by the lady, who was probably +her mother, and whose voice had been heard for the last few moments. The +lady, too, glanced in as she went by, and John Short lost his heart then +and there; not that the lady was beautiful as the little girl was, but +because there was something in her face, in her figure, in her whole +carriage, that moved the boy suddenly as she looked at him and sent the +blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead. + +She seemed young, but he never thought of her age. In reality she was +nine-and-twenty years old but looked younger. She was pale, far paler +than the little girl, but she had those same violet eyes, large, deep and +sorrowful, beneath dark, smooth eyebrows that arched high and rose a +little in the middle. Her mouth was perhaps large for her face but her +full lips curved gently and seemed able to smile, though she was not +smiling. Her nose was perhaps too small--her face was far from +faultless--and it had the slightest tendency to turn up instead of down, +but it was so delicately modelled that an artist would have pardoned it +that deviation from the classic. Thick brown hair waved across her white +forehead and was hidden under the black bonnet and the veil thrown back +over it. She was dressed in black and the close-fitting gown showed off +with unconscious vanity the lines of a perfectly moulded and perfectly +supple figure. But it was especially her eyes which attracted John's +sudden attention at that first glance, her violet eyes, tender, sad, +almost pathetic, seeming to ask sympathy and marvellously able to command +it. + +It was but for a moment that she paused. Then came the vicar, following +her from the drawing-room, and all three went on. Presently Short heard +the front door open and Mr. Ambrose shouted to the fly. + +"Muggins! Muggins!" + +No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican, had +christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the least +of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain Charles +Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and Muggins he +remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for the afternoon was +hot and he had anticipated his "fours." + +Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where +the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse +the driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed +close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the +blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt +very foolish. + +"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the +summer's sun. + +"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping +Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel. +Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only the +young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not mind +being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and brought the +fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting. + +"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she +came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then it +was the turn of the little girl. + +"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand. + +"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who +was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding out +her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than ever +as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl blushed +and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the carriage. + +"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door. + +"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered the +lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her voice. +She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful. Muggins +cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and his pupil +standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house. + +"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose, rather +anxiously. + +Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would say +something about the lady, but to his annoyance, he said nothing at all. +John could not ask questions, seeing it was none of his business and was +fain to content himself with thinking of the lady's face and voice. He +felt very uncomfortable at dinner. He thought the excellent Mrs. Ambrose +eyed him with unusual severity, as though suspecting what he was thinking +about, and he thought the vicar's grey eye twinkled occasionally with the +pleasant sense of possessing a secret he had no intention of imparting. +As a matter of fact Mrs. Ambrose was supremely unconscious of the fact +that John had seen the lady, and looked at him with some curiosity, +observing that he seemed nervous and blushed from time to time and was +more silent than usual. She came to the conclusion that he had been +working too hard, as usual, and that night requested him to take two +little pellets of aconite, and to repeat the dose in the morning. Whether +it was the result of the homoeopathic medicine or of the lapse of a few +hours and a good night's rest, it is impossible to say; John, however, +was himself again the next morning and showed no further signs of +nervousness. But he kept his eyes and ears open, hoping for some news of +the exquisite creature who had made so profound an impression on his +heart. + +In due time the joyful news arrived from Cambridge that the Honourable +Cornelius had passed his examination and was at liberty to matriculate at +the beginning of the term. The intelligence was duly telegraphed to his +father, and in a few hours came a despatch in answer, full of +affectionate congratulation and requesting that Cornelius should proceed +at once to Paris, where his father was waiting for him. The young man +took an affectionate leave of the vicar, of Mrs. Ambrose and especially +of John Short, for whom he had conceived an almost superstitious +admiration; old Reynolds was not forgotten in the farewell, and for +several days after Angleside's departure the aged gardener was observed +to walk somewhat unsteadily and to wear a peculiarly thoughtful +expression; while the vicar observed with annoyance that Strawberry, the +old mare, was less carefully groomed than usual. Strangely coincident +with these phenomena was the fact that Simon Gunn's yellow cat seemed to +have entirely repented of her evil practices, renouncing from the day +when Cornelius left for Paris her periodical invasion of the asparagus +beds at the foot of the garden. But the vicar was too practical a man to +waste time in speculating upon the occult relations of seemingly +disconnected facts. He applied himself with diligence to the work of +preparing John Short to compete for the minor scholarship. The labour was +congenial. He had never taken a pupil so far before, and it was a genuine +delight to him to bring his own real powers into play at last. As the +summer wore on, he predicted all manner of success for John Short, and +his predictions were destined before long to be realised, for John did +all he promised to do and more also. To have succeeded in pushing the +Honourable Cornelius through his entrance examination was a triumph +indeed, but an uninteresting one at best, and one which had no further +consequences. But to be the means of turning out the senior classic of +the University was an honour which would not only greatly increase the +good vicar's reputation but would be to him a source of the keenest +satisfaction during the remainder of his life; moreover the prospects +which would be immediately opened to John in case he obtained such a +brilliant success would be a very material benefit to his unlucky father, +whose talents yielded him but a precarious livelihood and whose pitiable +condition had induced his old schoolfellow to undertake the education of +his son. + +Much depended upon John's obtaining one or more scholarships during his +career at college. To a man of inferior talents the vicar would have +suggested that it would be wiser to go to a smaller college than Trinity +where he would have less competition to expect; but as soon as he +realised John's powers, he made up his mind that it would be precisely +where competition was hottest that his pupil would have the greatest +success. He would get something--perhaps his father would make a little +more money--the vicar even dreamed of lending John a small sum--something +would turn up; at all events he must go to the largest college and do +everything in the best possible way. Meanwhile he must work as hard as he +could during the few months remaining before the beginning of his first +term. + +Whether the lady ever wrote to Mr. Ambrose, John could not ascertain; she +was never mentioned at the vicarage, and it seemed as though the mystery +were never to be solved. But the impression she had made upon the young +man's mind remained and even gained strength by the working of his +imagination; for he thought of her night and day, treasuring up every +memory of her that he could recall, building romances in his mind, +conceiving the most ingenious reasons for the solitary visit she had made +to the vicarage, and inwardly vowing that if ever he should be at liberty +to follow his own inclinations he would go out into the world and search +for her. He was only eighteen then, and of a strongly susceptible +temperament. He had seen nothing of the world, for even when living in +London, in a dingy lodging, with his father, he had been perpetually +occupied with books, reading much and seeing little. Then he had been at +school, but he had seen the dark side of school life--the side which boys +who are known to be very poor generally see; and more than ever he had +resorted to study for comfort and relief from outward ills. Then at last +he had been transferred to a serener state in the vicarage of +Billingsfield and had grown up rapidly from a schoolboy to a young man; +but, as has been said, the feminine element at the vicarage was solely +represented by Mrs. Ambrose and the monotony of her maternal society was +varied only by the occasional visits of the mild young Mrs. Edward +Pewlay. John Short had indeed a powerful and aspiring imagination, but it +would have been impossible even by straining that faculty to its utmost +activity to think in the same breath of romance and of Mrs. Ambrose, for +even in her youth Mrs. Ambrose had not been precisely a romantic +character. John's fancy was not stimulated by his surroundings, but it +fed upon itself and grew fast enough to acquire an influence over +everything he did. It was not surprising that, when at last chance threw +in his way a being who seemed instantly to realise and fulfil his wildest +dreams of beauty and feminine fascination, he should have yielded without +a struggle to the delicious influence, feeling that henceforth his ideal +had taken shape and substance, and had thereby become more than ever the +ideal in which he delighted. + +He gave her names, a dozen of them every day, christening her after every +heroine in fiction and history of whom he had ever read. But no name +seemed to suit her well enough; whereupon he wrote a Greek ode and a +Latin epistle to the fair unknown, but omitted to show them to the +Reverend Augustin Ambrose, though he was quite certain that they were the +best he had ever produced. Then he began to write a novel, but suddenly +recollected that a famous author had written one entitled "No Name," and +as that was the only title he could possibly give to the work he +contemplated he of course had no choice but to abandon the work itself. +He wrote more verses, and he dreamed more dreams, and he meanwhile +acquired much learning and in process of time realised that he had but a +few days longer to stay at Billingsfield. The Michaelmas term was about +to open and he must bid farewell to the hospitable roof and the learned +conversation of the good vicar. But when those last days came he realised +that he was leaving the scene of his only dream, and his heart grew sad. + +Indeed he loved the old red brick vicarage with its low porch, overgrown +with creepers, its fragrant old flower garden, surrounding it on three +sides, its gabled roof, its south wall whereon the vicar constantly +attempted to train fig trees, maintaining that the climate of England had +grown warmer and that he would prove it--John loved it all, and +especially he loved the little study, lined with the books grown familiar +to him, and the study door, the door through which he had seen that +lovely face which he firmly believed was to inspire him to do great +things and to influence his whole life for ever after. He would leave the +door open and place himself just where he had sat that day, and then he +would look suddenly up with beating heart, almost fancying he could again +see those violet eyes gazing at him from the dusky passage--blushing then +to himself, like any girl, and burying himself in his book till the fancy +was grown too strong and he looked up again. He had attempted to sketch +her face on a bit of paper; but he had no skill and he thrust the drawing +into the paper basket, horrified at having made anything so hideous in +the effort to represent anything so beautiful, and returned to making +odes upon her, and Latin epistles, in which he succeeded much better. + +And now the time had come when he must leave all this dreaming, or at +least the scene of it, and go to college and win scholarships and renown. +It was hard to go and he showed his regret so plainly that Mrs. Ambrose +was touched at what she took for his affection for the place and for +herself and for the vicar. John Short was indeed very grateful to her for +all the kindness she had shown him, and to Mr. Ambrose for the learning +he had acquired; for John was a fine fellow and never forgot an +obligation nor undervalued one. But when we are very young our hearts are +far more easily touched to joy and sadness by the chords and discords of +our own dreaming, than by the material doings of the world around us, or +by the strong and benevolent interest our elders are good enough to take +in us. We feel grateful to those same elders if we have any good in us, +but we are far from feeling a similar interest in them. We see in our +imaginations wonderful pictures, and we hear wonderful words, for +everything we dream of partakes of an unknown perfection and completely +throws into the shade the inartistic commonplaces of daily life. As John +Short grew older, he often regretted the society of his old tutor and in +the frequent absence of important buttons from his raiment he bitterly +realised that there was no longer a motherly Mrs. Ambrose to inspect his +linen; but when he took leave of them what hurt him most was to turn his +back upon the beloved old study, upon the very door through which he had +once, and only once, beheld the ideal of his first love dream. + +Though the vicar was glad to see the boy started upon what he already +regarded as a career of certain victory, he was sorry to lose him, not +knowing when he should see him again. John intended to read through all +the vacations until he got his degree. He might indeed have come down for +a day or two at Christmas, but with his very slender resources even so +short a pleasure trip was not to be thought of lightly. It was therefore +to be a long separation, so long to look forward to that when John saw +the shabby little box which contained, all his worldly goods put up into +the back of the vicar's dogcart, and stood at last in the hall, saying +good-bye, he felt as though he was being thrust out into the world never +to return again; his heart seemed to rise in his throat, the tears stood +in his eyes and he could hardly speak a word. Even then he thought of +that day when he had waked up the sleepy Muggins to take away the +beautiful unknown lady. He felt he must be quick about his leave-taking, +or he would break down. + +"You have been very good to me. I--I shall never forget it," he murmured +as he shook hands with Mrs. Ambrose. "And you, too, sir--" he added +turning to the vicar. But the old clergyman cut him short, being himself +rather uncertain about the throat. + +"Good-bye, my lad. God bless you. We shall hear of you soon--showing them +what you can do with your Alcaics--Good-bye." + +So John got into the dogcart and was driven off by the ancient +Reynolds--past the "Duke's Head," past the "Feathers," past the +churchyard and the croft--the "croat," they called it in +Billingsfield--and on by the windmill on the heath, a hideous bit of +grassless common euphemistically so named, and so out to the high-road +towards the railway station, feeling very miserable indeed. It is a +curious fact, too, in the history of his psychology that in proportion as +he got farther from the vicarage he thought more and more of his old +tutor and less and less of his unfinished dream, and he realised +painfully that the vicar was nearly the only friend he had in the world. +He would of course find Cornelius Angleside at Cambridge, but he +suspected that Cornelius, turned loose among a merry band of +undergraduates of his own position would be a very different person from +the idle youth he had known at Billingsfield, trembling in the intervals +of his idleness at the awful prospect of the entrance examination, and +frantically attempting to master some bit of stray knowledge which might +possibly be useful to him. Cornelius would hunt, would gamble, would go +to the races and would give wines at college; John was to be a reading +man who must avoid such things as he would avoid the devil himself, not +only because he was too wretchedly poor to have any share whatever in the +amusements of Cornelius and his set, but because every minute was +important, every hour meant not only learning but meant, most +emphatically, money. He thought of his poor father, grinding out the life +of a literary hack in a wretched London lodging, dining Heaven knew where +and generally supping not at all, saving every penny to help his son's +education, hard working, honest, lacking no virtue except the virtue of +all virtues--success. Then he thought how he himself had been favoured by +fortune during these last years, living under the vicar's roof, treated +with the same consideration as the high-born young gentlemen who had been +his companions, living well, sleeping well and getting the best education +in England for nothing or next to nothing, while that same father of his +had never ceased to slave day and night with his pen, honestly doing his +best and yet enjoying none of the good things of life. John thought of +all this and set his teeth boldly to face the world. A few months, he +thought, and he might have earned a scholarship--he might be independent. +Then a little longer--less than three years--and he might, nay, he would, +take high honours in the university and come back crowned with glory, +with the prospect of a fellowship, with every profession open to him, +with the world at his feet and with money in his hand to help his father +out of all his troubles. + +That was how John Short went to Trinity. It was a hard struggle at first, +for he found himself much poorer than he had imagined, and it seemed as +though the ends could not possibly meet. There was no question of denying +himself luxuries; that would have been easy enough. In those first months +it was the necessities that he lacked, the coals for his little grate, +the oil for his one small lamp. But he fought bravely through it, having, +like many another young fellow who has weathered the storms of poverty in +pursuit of learning, an iron constitution, and an even stronger will. He +used to say long afterwards that feeling cold was a mere habit and that +when one thoroughly understood the construction of Greek verses, some +stimulus of physical discomfort was necessary to make the imagination +work well; in support of which assertion he said that he had never done +such good things by the comfortable fire in the study at Billingsfield +vicarage as he did afterwards on winter nights by the light of a tallow +candle, high up in Neville's Court. Moreover, if any one argued that it +was better for an extremely poor man not to go to Trinity, but to some +much smaller college, he answered that as far as he himself was concerned +he could not have done better, which was quite true and therefore +perfectly unanswerable. Where the competition was less, he would have +been satisfied with less, he said; where it was greatest a man could only +be contented when he had reached the highest point possible. But before +he attained his end he suffered more than any one knew, especially during +those first months. For when he had got his first scholarship, he +insisted upon sending back the little sums of hard-earned money his +father sent him from time to time, and he consequently had nearly as hard +work as before to keep himself warm and to keep oil in his lamp during +the long winter's evenings. But he succeeded, nevertheless. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +In the month of October of that year, a short time after John had taken +up his abode in Trinity College, an event occurred which shook +Billingsfield to its foundations; no less an event than the occupation of +the dwelling known as the "cottage." What the cottage was will appear +hereafter. The arrival of the new tenants occurred in the following +manner. + +The Reverend Augustin Ambrose received a letter, which he immediately +showed to his wife, as he showed most of his correspondence; for he was +of the disposition which may be termed wife-consulting. Married men are +generally of two kinds; those who tell their wives everything and those +who tell them nothing. It is evident that the relative merits of the two +systems depend chiefly upon the relative merits of the wives in question. +Mr. Ambrose had no doubt of the advantages of his own method and he +carried it to its furthest expression, for he never did anything whatever +without consulting his better half. On the whole the plan worked well, +for the vicar had learning and his wife had common sense. He therefore +showed the letter to her and she read it, and read it again, and finally +put it away, writing across the envelope in her own large, clear hand the +words--Goddard, Cottage--indicative of the contents. + + * * * * * + +"MY DEAR SIR--It is now nearly five months since I saw you last. Need I +tell you that the sense of your kindness is still fresh in my memory? You +do not know, indeed you cannot know, what an impression your goodness +made upon me. You showed me that I was acting rightly. It has been so +hard to act rightly. Of course you quite understand what I mean. I cannot +refer to the great sorrow which has overtaken me and my dear innocent +little Nellie. There is no use in referring to it, for I have told you +all. You allowed me to unburden my heart to you during my brief visit, +and ever since that day I have felt very much, I may say infinitely, +relieved. + +"I am again about to ask you a favour; I trust indeed that I am not +asking too much, but I know by experience how kind you are and so I am +not afraid to ask this too. Do you remember speaking to me of the little +cottage? The picture you drew of it quite charmed me, and I have +determined to take it, that is, if it is still to be let and if it is not +asking quite too much of you. I mean, if you will take it for me. You +cannot think how grateful I shall be and I enclose a cheque. I am almost +sure you said thirty-six pounds. It was thirty-six, was it not? The +reason I venture to enclose the money is because you are so very kind, +but of course you do not know anything certain about me. But I am sure +you will understand. You said you were sure I could live with my little +girl in Billingsfield for three hundred a year. I find I have a little +more, in fact nearly five hundred. If you tell me that I can have the +cottage, I will come down at once, for town is very dreary and we have +been here all summer except a week at Margate. Let me thank you again, +you have been so very kind, and believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely +yours, + +"MARY GODDARD." + + * * * * * + +"Augustin, my dear, this is very exciting," said Mrs. Ambrose, as she +handed the cheque to her husband for inspection and returned the +letter to its envelope, preparatory to marking it for future reference; +and when, as has been said, she had written upon the outside the +words--Goddard, Cottage, and had put it away she turned upon her husband +with an inquiring manner peculiar to her. Mr. Ambrose was standing before +the window, looking out at the rain and occasionally glancing at the +cheque he still held in his hand. + +"Just like a woman to send a cheque to 'bearer' through the post," he +remarked, severely. "However since I have got it, it is all right." + +"I don't think it is all right, Augustin," said his wife. "We are taking +a great responsibility in bringing her into the parish. I am quite sure +she is a dissenter or a Romanist or something dreadful, to begin with." + +"My dear," answered the vicar, mildly, "you make very uncharitable +suppositions. It seems to me that the most one can say of her is that she +is very unhappy and that she does not write very good English." + +"Oh, I have no doubt she is very unhappy. But as you say we must not be +uncharitable. I suppose you will have to write about the cottage." + +"I suppose so," said Mr. Ambrose doubtfully. "I cannot send her back the +money, and the cottage is certainly to let." + +He deposited the cheque in the drawer of his writing-table and began to +walk up and down the room, glancing up from time to time at his wife who +was lifting one after another the ornaments which stood upon the +chimney-piece, in order to ascertain whether Susan had dusted underneath +them. She had many ways of assuring herself that people did their work +properly. + +"No," said she, "you cannot send her back the money. But it is a very +solemn responsibility. I hope we are doing quite right." + +"I certainly would not hesitate to return the cheque, my dear, if I +thought any harm would come of Mrs. Goddard's living here. But I don't +think there is any reason to doubt her story." + +"Of course not. It was in the _Standard_, so there is no doubt about it. +I only hope no one else reads the papers here." + +"They read them in the kitchen," added Mrs. Ambrose presently, "and they +probably take a paper at the Duke's Head. Mr. Boosey is rather a literary +character." + +"Nobody will suppose it was that Goddard, my dear," said the vicar in a +reassuring tone of voice. + +"No--you had better write about the cottage." + +"I will," said the vicar; and he forthwith did. And moreover, with his +usual willingness to give himself trouble for other people, he took a +vast deal of pains to see that the cottage was really habitable. It +turned out to be in very good condition. It was a pretty place enough, +standing ten yards back from the road, beyond the village, just opposite +the gates of the park; a little square house of red brick with a high +pointed roof and a little garden. The walls were overgrown with creepers +which had once been trained with considerable care, but which during the +last two years had thriven in untrimmed luxuriance and now covered the +whole of the side of the house which faced the road. So thickly did they +grow that it was with difficulty that the windows could at first be +opened. The vicar sighed as he entered the darkened rooms. His daughter +had lived in the cottage when she first married the young doctor who had +now gone to London, and the vicar had been, and was, very fond of his +daughter. He had almost despaired of ever seeing her again in +Billingsfield; the only glimpses of her he could obtain were got by going +himself to town, for the doctor was so busy that he always put off the +projected visit to the country and his wife was so fond of him that she +refused to go alone. The vicar sighed as he forced open the windows upon +the lower floor and let the light into the bare and empty rooms which had +once been so bright and full of happiness. He wondered what sort of +person Mrs. Goddard would turn out to be upon nearer acquaintance, and +made vague, unconscious conjectures about her furniture as he stumbled +up the dark stairs to the upper story. + +He was not left long in doubt. The arrangements were easily concluded, +for the cottage belonged to the estate in Chancery and the lawyer in +charge was very busy with other matters. The guarantee afforded by the +vicar's personal application, together with the payment of a year's rent +in advance so far facilitated matters that four days after she had +written to Mr. Ambrose the latter informed Mrs. Goddard that she was at +liberty to take possession. The vicar suggested that the Billingsfield +carrier, who drove his cart to London once a week, could bring her +furniture down in two trips and save her a considerable expense; Mrs. +Goddard accepted this advice and in the course of a fortnight was +installed with all her goods in the cottage. Having completed her +arrangements at last, she came to call upon the vicar's wife. + +Mrs. Goddard had not changed since she had first visited Billingsfield, +five months earlier, though little Eleanor had grown taller and was if +possible prettier than ever. Something of the character of the lady in +black may have been gathered from the style of her letter to Mr. Ambrose; +that communication had impressed the vicar's wife unfavourably and had +drawn from her husband a somewhat compassionate remark about the bad +English it contained. Nevertheless when Mrs. Goddard came to live in +Billingsfield the Ambroses soon discovered that she was a very +well-educated woman, that she appeared to have read much and to have read +intelligently, and that she was on the whole decidedly interesting. It +was long, however, before Mrs. Ambrose entirely conquered a certain +antipathy she felt for her, and which she explained after her own +fashion. Mrs. Goddard was not a dissenter and she was not a Romanist; on +the contrary she appeared to be a very good churchwoman. She paid her +bills regularly and never gave anybody any trouble. She visited the +vicarage at stated intervals, and the vicarage graciously returned her +visits. The vicar himself even went to the cottage more often than Mrs. +Ambrose thought strictly necessary, for the vicar was strongly prejudiced +in her favour. But Mrs. Ambrose did not share that prejudice. Mrs. +Goddard, she said, was too effusive, talked too much about herself and +her troubles, did not look thoroughly straightforward, probably had +foreign blood. Ay, there was the rub--Mrs. Ambrose suspected that Mrs. +Goddard was not quite English. If she was not, why did she not say so, +and be done with it? + +Mrs. Goddard was English, nevertheless, and would have been very much +surprised could she have guessed the secret cause of the slight coldness +she sometimes observed in the manner of the clergyman's wife towards her. +She herself, poor thing, believed it was because she was in trouble, and +considering the nature of the disaster which had befallen her, she was +not surprised. She was rather a weak woman, rather timid, and if she +talked a little too much sometimes it was because she felt embarrassed; +there were times, too, when she was very silent and sad. She had been +very happy and the great catastrophe had overtaken her suddenly, leaving +her absolutely without friends. She wanted to be hidden from the world, +and by one of those strange contrasts often found in weak people she had +suddenly made a very bold resolution and had successfully carried it out. +She had come straight to a man she had never seen, but whom she knew very +well by reputation, and had told him her story and asked him to help her; +and she had not come in vain. The person who advised her to go to the +Reverend Augustin Ambrose knew that there was not a better man to whom +she could apply. She had found what she wanted, a sort of deserted +village where she would never be obliged to meet any one, since there was +absolutely no society; she had found a good man upon whom she felt she +could rely in case of further difficulty; and she had not come upon false +pretences, for she had told her whole story quite frankly. For a woman +who was naturally timid she had done a thing requiring considerable +courage, and she was astonished at her own boldness after she had done +it. But in her peaceful retreat, she reflected that she could not +possibly have left England, as many women in her position would have +done, simply because the idea of exile was intolerable to her; she +reflected also that if she had settled in any place where there was any +sort of society her story would one day have become known, and that if +she had spent years in studying her situation she could not have done +better than in going boldly to the vicar of Billingsfield and explaining +her sad position to him. She had found a haven of rest after many months +of terrible anxiety and she hoped that she might end her days in peace +and in the spot she had chosen. But she was very young--not thirty years +of age yet--and her little girl would soon grow up--and then? Evidently +her dream of peace was likely to be of limited duration; but she resigned +herself to the unpleasant possibilities of the future with a good grace, +in consideration of the advantages she enjoyed in the present. + +Mrs. Ambrose was at home when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor came to the +vicarage. Indeed Mrs. Ambrose was rarely out in the afternoon, unless +something very unusual called her away. She received her visitor with the +stern hospitality she exercised towards strangers. The strangers she saw +were generally the near relations of the young gentlemen whom her husband +received for educational purposes. She stood in the front drawing-room, +that is to say, in the most impressive chamber of that fortress which is +an Englishman's house. It was a formal room, arranged by a fixed rule and +the order of it was maintained inflexibly; no event could be imagined of +such terrible power as to have caused the displacement of one of those +chairs, of one of those ornaments upon the chimney-piece, of one of those +engravings upon the walls. The walls were papered with one shade of +green, the furniture was covered with material of another shade of green +and the well-spared carpet exhibited still a third variety of the same +colour. Mrs. Ambrose's sense of order did not extend to the simplest +forms of artistic harmony, but when it had an opportunity of impressing +itself upon inanimate objects which were liable to be moved, washed or +dusted, its effects were formidable indeed. She worshipped neatness and +cleanliness; she left the question of taste to others. And now she stood +in the keep of her stronghold, the impersonation of moral rectitude and +of practical housekeeping. + +Mrs. Goddard entered rather timidly, followed by little Eleanor whose +ideas had been so much disturbed by the recent change in her existence, +that she had grown unusually silent and her great violet eyes were +unceasingly opened wide to take in the growing wonders of her situation. +Mrs. Goddard was still dressed in black, as when John Short had seen her +five months earlier. There was something a little peculiar in her +mourning, though Mrs. Ambrose would have found it hard to define the +peculiarity. Some people would have said that if she was really a widow +her gown fitted a little too well, her bonnet was a little too small, her +veil a little too short. Mrs. Ambrose supposed that those points were +suggested by the latest fashions in London and summed up the difficulty +by surmising that Mrs. Goddard had foreign blood. + +"I should have called before," said the latter, deeply impressed by the +severe appearance of the vicar's wife, "but I have been so busy putting +my things into the cottage--" + +"Pray don't think of it," answered Mrs. Ambrose. Then she added after a +pause, "I am very glad to see you." She appeared to have been weighing in +her conscience the question whether she could truthfully say so or not. +But Mrs. Goddard was grateful for the smallest advances. + +"Thank you," she said, "you are so very kind. Will you tell Mr. Ambrose +how thankful I am for his kind assistance? Yes, Nellie and I have had +hard work in moving, have not we, dear?" She drew the beautiful child +close to her and gazed lovingly into her eyes. But Nellie was shy; she +hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and then looked doubtfully at Mrs. +Ambrose, and then hid herself again. + +"How old is your little girl?" asked Mrs. Ambrose more kindly. She was +fond of children, and actually pitied any child whose mother perhaps had +foreign blood. + +"Eleanor--I call her Nellie--is eight years old. She will be nine in +January. She is tall for her age," added Mrs. Goddard with affectionate +pride. As a matter of fact Nellie was small for her years, and Mrs. +Ambrose, who was the most truthful of women, felt that she could not +conscientiously agree in calling hex tall. She changed the subject. + +"I am afraid you will find it very quiet in Billingsfield," she said +presently. + +"Oh, I am used--that is, I prefer a very quiet place. I want to live very +quietly for some years, indeed I hope for the rest of my life. Besides it +will be so good for Nellie to live in the country--she will grow so +strong." + +"She looks very well, I am sure," answered Mrs. Ambrose rather bluntly, +looking at the child's clear complexion and bright eyes. "And have you +always lived in town until now, Mrs. Goddard?" she asked. + +"Oh no, not always, but most of the year, perhaps. Indeed I think so." +Mrs. Goddard felt nervous before the searching glance of the elder woman. +Mrs. Ambrose concluded that she was not absolutely straightforward. + +"Do you think you can make the cottage comfortable?" asked the vicar's +wife, seeing that the conversation languished. + +"Oh, I think so," answered her visitor, glad to change the subject, and +suddenly becoming very voluble as she had previously been very shy. "It +is really a charming little place. Of course it is not very large, but as +we have not got very many belongings that is all the better; and the +garden is small but extremely pretty and wild, and the kitchen is very +convenient; really I quite wonder how the people who built it could have +made it all so comfortable. You see there are one--two--the pantry, the +kitchen and two rooms on the ground floor and plenty of room upstairs for +everybody, and as for the sun! it streams into all the windows at once +from morning till night. And such a pretty view, too, of that old gate +opposite--where does it lead to, Mrs. Ambrose? It is so very pretty." + +"It leads to the park and the Hall," answered Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Oh--" Mrs. Goddard's tone changed. "But nobody lives there?" she asked +suddenly. + +"Oh no--it is in Chancery, you know." + +"What--what is that, exactly?" asked Mrs. Goddard, timidly. "Is there a +young heir waiting to grow up--I mean waiting to take possession?" + +"No. There is a suit about it. It has been going on for forty years my +husband says, and they cannot decide to whom it belongs." + +"I see," answered Mrs. Goddard. "I suppose they will never decide now." + +"Probably not for some time." + +"It must be a very pretty place. Can one go in, do you think? I am so +fond of trees--what a beautiful garden you have yourself, Mrs. Ambrose." + +"Would you like to see it?" asked the vicar's wife, anxious to bring the +visit to a conclusion. + +"Oh, thank you--of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "Would not you +like to run about the garden, Nellie?" + +The little girl nodded slowly and stared at Mrs. Ambrose. + +"My husband is a very good gardener," said the latter, leading the way +out to the hall. "And so was John Short, but he has left us, you know." + +"Who was John Short?" asked Mrs. Goddard rather absently, as she watched +Mrs. Ambrose who was wrapping herself in a huge blue waterproof cloak and +tying a sort of worsted hood over her head. + +"He was one of the boys Mr. Ambrose prepared for college--such a good +fellow. You may have seen him when you came last June, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"Had he very bright blue eyes--a nice face?" + +"Yes--that is, it might have been Mr. Angleside--Lord Scatterbeigh's +son--he was here, too." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Goddard, "perhaps it was." + +"Mamma," asked little Nellie, "what is Laws Catterbay?" + +"A peer, darling." + +"Like the one at Brighton, mamma, with a band?" + +"No, child," answered the mother laughing. "P, double E, R, peer--a rich +gentleman." + +"Like poor papa then?" inquired the irrepressible Eleanor. + +Mrs. Goddard turned pale and pressed the little girl close to her side, +leaning down to whisper in her ear. + +"You must not ask foolish questions, darling--I will tell you by and by." + +"Papa was a rich gentleman," objected the child. + +Mrs. Goddard looked at Mrs. Ambrose, and the ready tears came into her +eyes. The vicar's wife smiled kindly and took little Nellie by the hand. + +"Come, dear," she said in the motherly tone that was natural to her when +she was not receiving visitors. "Come and see the garden and you can play +with Carlo." + +"Can't I see Laws Catterbay, too?" asked the little girl rather +wistfully. + +"Carlo is a great, big, brown dog," said Mrs. Ambrose, leading the child +out into the garden, while Mrs. Goddard followed close behind. Before +they had gone far they came upon the vicar, arrayed in an old coat, his +hands thrust into a pair of gigantic gardening gloves and a battered old +felt hat upon his head. Mrs. Goddard had felt rather uncomfortable in the +impressive society of Mrs. Ambrose and the sight of the vicar's genial +face was reassuring in the extreme. She was not disappointed, for he +immediately relieved the situation by asking all manner of kindly +questions, interspersed with remarks upon his garden, while Mrs. Ambrose +introduced little Nellie to the acquaintance of Carlo who had not seen so +pretty a little girl for many a day, and capered and wagged his feathery +tail in a manner most unseemly for so clerical a dog. + +So it came about that Mrs. Goddard established herself at Billingsfield +and made her first visit to the vicarage. After that the ice was broken +and things went on smoothly enough. Mrs. Ambrose's hints concerning +foreign blood, and her husband's invariable remonstrance to the effect +that she ought to be more charitable, grew more and more rare as time +went on, and finally ceased altogether. Mrs. Goddard became a regular +institution, and ceased to astonish the inhabitants. Mr. Thomas Reid, the +sexton, was heard to remark from time to time that he "didn't hold with +th'm newfangle fashins in dress;" but he was a regular old conservative, +and most people agreed with Mr. Abraham Boosey of the Duke's Head, who +had often been to London, and who said she did "look just A one, slap up, +she did!" + +Mrs. Goddard became an institution, and in the course of the first year +of her residence in the cottage it came to be expected that she should +dine at the vicarage at least once a week; and once a week, also, Mr. and +Mrs. Ambrose went up and had tea with her and little Eleanor at the +cottage. It came to pass also that Mrs. Goddard heard a vast deal of talk +about John Short and his successes at Trinity, and she actually developed +a lively interest in his career, and asked for news of him almost as +eagerly as though he had been already a friend of her own. In very quiet +places people easily get into the sympathetic habit of regarding their +neighbours' interests as very closely allied to their own. The constant +talk about John Short, the vicar's sanguine hopes for his brilliant +future, and Mrs. Ambrose's unlimited praise of his moral qualities, +repeated day by day and week by week produced a vivid impression on Mrs. +Goddard's mind. It would have surprised her and even amused her beyond +measure had she had any idea that she herself had for a long time +absorbed the interest of this same John Short, that he had written +hundreds of Greek and Latin verses in her praise, while wholly ignorant +of her name, and that at the very time when without knowing him, she was +constantly mentioning him as though she knew him intimately well, he +himself was looking back to the one glimpse he had had of her, as to a +dream of unspeakable bliss. + +It never occurred to Mr. Ambrose's mind to tell John in the occasional +letters he wrote that Mrs. Goddard had settled in Billingsfield. John, he +thought, could take no possible interest in knowing about her, and +moreover, Mrs. Goddard herself was most anxious never to be mentioned +abroad. She had come to Billingsfield to live in complete obscurity, and +the good vicar had promised that as far as he and his wife were concerned +she should have her wish. To tell even John Short, his own beloved pupil, +would be to some extent a breach of faith, and there was assuredly no +earthly reason why John should be told. It might do harm, for of course +the young fellow had made acquaintances at Cambridge; he had probably +read about the Goddard case in the papers, and might talk about it. If he +should happen to come down for a day or two he would probably meet her; +but that could not be avoided. It was not likely that he would come for +some time. The vicar himself intended to go up to Cambridge for a day or +two after Christmas to see him; but the winter flew by and Mr. Ambrose +did not go. Then came Easter, then the summer and the Long vacation. John +wrote that he could not leave his books for a day, but that he hoped to +run down next Christmas. Again he did not come, but there came the news +of his having won another and a more important scholarship; the news also +that he was already regarded as the most promising man in the university, +all of which exceedingly delighted the heart of the Reverend Augustin +Ambrose, and being told with eulogistic comments to Mrs. Goddard, tended +to increase the interest she felt in the existence of John Short, so that +she began to long for a sight of him, without exactly knowing why. + +Gradually, too, as she and her little girl passed many peaceful days in +the quiet cottage, the sad woman's face grew less sorrowful. She spoke of +herself more cheerfully and dwelt less upon the subject of her grief. She +had at first been so miserable that she could hardly talk at all without +referring to her unhappy situation though, after her first interview with +Mrs. Ambrose, no one had ever heard her mention any details connected +with her trouble. But now she never approached the subject at all. Her +face lost none of its pathetic beauty, it is true, but it seemed to +express sorrow past rather than present. Meanwhile little Nellie grew +daily more lovely, and absorbed more and more of her mother's attention. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +Events of such stirring interest as the establishment of Mrs. Goddard in +Billingsfield rarely come alone; for it seems to be in the nature of +great changes to bring other changes with them, even when there is no +apparent connection whatever between them. It took nearly two years for +Billingsfield to recover from its astonishment at Mrs. Goddard's arrival, +and before the excitement had completely worn off the village was again +taken off its feet by unexpected news of stupendous import, even as of +old Pompeii was overthrown by a second earthquake before it had wholly +recovered from the devastation caused by the first. The shock was indeed +a severe one. The Juxon estate was reported to be out of Chancery, and a +new squire was coming to take up his residence at the Hall. + +It is not known exactly how the thing first became known, but there was +soon no doubt whatever that it was true. Thomas Reid, the sexton, who +remembered that the old squire died forty years ago come Michaelmas, and +had been buried in a "wonderful heavy" coffin, Thomas Reid the stern +censor of the vicar's sermons, a melancholic and sober man, so far lost +his head over the news as to ask Mr. Ambrose's leave to ring the bells, +Mr. Abraham Boosey having promised beer for the ringers. Even to the +vicar's enlightened mind it seemed fitting that there should be some +festivity over so great an event and the bells were accordingly rung +during one whole afternoon. Thomas Reid's ringers never got beyond the +first "bob" of a peal, for with the exception of the sexton himself and +old William Speller the wheelwright, who pulled the treble bell, they +were chiefly dull youths who with infinite difficulty had been taught +what changes they knew by rote and had very little idea of ringing by +scientific rule. Moreover Mr. Boosey was liberal in the matter of beer +that day and the effect of each successive can that was taken up the +stairs of the old tower was immediately apparent to every one within +hearing, that is to say as far as five miles around. + +The estate was out of Chancery at last. For forty years, ever since the +death of the old squire, no one had rightfully called the Hall his own. +The heir had lived abroad, and had lived in such an exceedingly eccentric +manner as to give ground for a suit _de lunatico inquirendo_, brought by +another heir. With the consistency of judicial purpose which +characterises such proceedings the courts appeared to have decided that +though the natural possessor, the eccentric individual who lived abroad, +was too mad to be left in actual possession, he was not mad enough to +justify actual possession in the person of the next of kin. Proceedings +continued, fees were paid, a certain legal personage already mentioned +came down from time to time and looked over the estate, but the matter +was not finally settled until the eccentric individual died, after forty +years of eccentricity, to the infinite relief and satisfaction of all +parties and especially of his lawful successor Charles James Juxon now, +at last, "of Billingsfield Hall, in the county of Essex, Esquire." + +In due time also Mr. Juxon appeared. It was natural that he should come +to see the vicar, and as it happened that he called late in the afternoon +upon the day when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor were accustomed to dine +at the vicarage, he at once had an opportunity of making the acquaintance +of his tenant; thus, if we except the free-thinking doctor, it will be +seen that Mr. Juxon was in the course of five minutes introduced to the +whole of the Billingsfield society. + +He was a man inclining towards middle age, of an active and vigorous +body, of a moderate intelligence and of decidedly prepossessing +appearance. His features were of the strong, square type, common to men +whose fathers for many generations have lived in the country. His eyes +were small, blue and very bright, and to judge from the lines in his +sunburned face he was a man who laughed often and heartily. He had an +abundance of short brown hair, parted very far upon one side and brushed +to a phenomenal smoothness, and he wore a full brown beard, cut rather +short and carefully trimmed. He immediately won the heart of Mrs. Ambrose +on account of his extremely neat appearance. There was no foreign blood +in him, she was sure. He had large clean hands with large and polished +nails. He wore very well made clothes, and he spoke like a gentleman. +The vicar, too, was at once prepossessed in his favour, and even little +Eleanor, who was generally very shy before strangers, looked at him +admiringly and showed little of her usual bashfulness. But Mrs. Goddard +seemed ill at ease and tried to keep out of the conversation as much as +possible. + +"There have been great rejoicings at the prospect of your arrival," said +the vicar when the new-comer had been introduced to both the ladies. "I +fancy that if you had let it be known that you were coming down to-day +the people would have turned out to meet you at the station." + +"The truth is, I rather avoid that sort of thing," said the squire, +smiling. "I would rather enter upon my dominions as quietly as possible." + +"It is much better for the people, too," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. "Their +idea of a holiday is to do no work and have too much beer." + +"I daresay that would not hurt them much," answered Mr. Juxon cheerfully. +"By the bye, I know nothing about them. I have never been here before. +My man of business wanted to come down and show me over the estate, and +introduce me to the farmers and all that, but I thought it would be such +a bore that I would not have him." + +"There is not much to tell, really," said Mr. Ambrose. "The society of +Billingsfield is all here," he added with a smile, "including one of your +tenants." + +"Are you my tenant?" asked Mr. Juxon pleasantly, and he looked at Mrs. +Goddard. + +"Yes," said she, "I have taken the cottage." + +"The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the +cottage?" + +"Such a pretty place," answered Mrs. Ambrose, "just opposite the park +gate. You must have seen it as you came down." + +"Oh, is that it?" said the squire. "Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived +there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall +is a perfect wilderness." + +Mrs. Goddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into +his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and +her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession +at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The +idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance, +and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he +would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and +the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors +at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was +at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her +embarrassment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the +cottage himself. + +"Do not be afraid, Mrs. Goddard," he said quickly, "I am not going to do +anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it +would be too small, you know." + +"Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity +which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs. +Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should +have said that he was married as soon as he entered the room. + +"I have a very large family," answered the squire, and after enjoying for +a moment the surprise he saw in Mrs. Ambrose's face, he added with a +laugh, "I have a library of ten thousand volumes--a very large family +indeed. Otherwise I have no encumbrances, thank heaven." + +"You are a scholar?" asked Mr. Ambrose eagerly. + +"A book fancier, only a book fancier," returned the squire modestly. "But +I am very fond of the fancy." + +"What is a book fancier, mamma?" asked little Eleanor in a whisper. But +Mr. Juxon heard the child's question. + +"If your mamma will bring you up to the Hall one of these days, Miss +Goddard, I will show you. A book fancier is a terrible fellow who has +lots of books, and is pursued by a large evil genius telling him he must +buy every book he sees, and that he will never by any possibility read +half of them before he dies." + +Little Eleanor stared for a moment with her great violet eyes, and then +turning again to her mother, whispered in her ear. + +"Mamma, he called me Miss Goddard!" + +"Run out and play in the garden, darling," said her mother with a smile. +But the child would not go and sat down on a stool and stared at the +squire, who was immensely delighted. + +"So you are going to bring all your library, Mr. Juxon?" asked the vicar +returning to the charge. + +"Yes--and I beg you will make any use of it you please," answered the +visitor. "I have a great fondness for books and I think I have some +valuable volumes. But I am no great scholar, as you are, though I read a +great deal. I have always noticed that the men who accumulate great +libraries do not know much, and the men who know a great deal have very +few books. Now I will wager that you have not a thousand volumes in your +house, Mr. Ambrose." + +"Five hundred would be nearer the mark," said the vicar. + +"The fewer one has the nearer one approaches to Aquinas's _homo unius +libri_," returned the squire. "You are nine thousand five hundred degrees +nearer to ideal wisdom than I am." + +Mr. Ambrose laughed. + +"Nevertheless," he said, "you may be sure that if you give me leave to +use your books, I will take advantage of the permission. It is in writing +sermons that one feels the want of a good library." + +"I should think it would be an awful bore to write sermons," remarked the +squire with such perfect innocence that both the vicar and Mrs. Goddard +laughed loudly. But Mrs. Ambrose eyed Mr. Juxon with renewed severity. + +"I should fancy it would be a much greater bore, as you call it, to the +congregation if my husband never wrote any new ones," she said stiffly. +Whereat the squire looked rather puzzled, and coloured a little. But Mr. +Ambrose came to the rescue. + +"Yes, indeed, my wife is quite right. There are no people with such +terrible memories as churchwardens. They remember a sermon twenty years +old. But as you say, the writing of sermons is not an easy task when a +man has been at it for thirty years and more. A man begins by being +enthusiastic, then his mind gets into a groove and for some time, if he +happens to like the groove, he writes very well. But by and by he has +written all there is to be said in the particular line he has chosen and +he does not know how to choose another. That is the time when a man needs +a library to help him." + +"I really don't think you have reached that point, Mr. Ambrose," remarked +Mrs. Goddard. She admired the vicar and liked his sermons. + +"You are fortunately not in the position of my churchwardens," answered +Mr. Ambrose. "You have not been listening to me for thirty years." + +"How long have you been my tenant, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire. + +"Nearly two years," she answered thoughtfully, and her sad eyes rested a +moment upon Mr. Juxon's face with an expression he remembered. Indeed he +looked at her very often and as he looked his admiration increased, so +that when he rose to take his leave the predominant impression of the +vicarage which remained in his mind was that of her face. Something of +the same fascination took hold of him which had seized upon John Short +when he caught sight of Mrs. Goddard through the open door of the study, +something of that unexpected interest which in Mrs. Ambrose had at first +aroused a half suspicious dislike, now long forgotten. + +Before the squire left he invited the whole party to come and dine with +him at the Hall on the following Saturday. He must have some kind of a +house warming, he said, for he was altogether too lonely up there. Mrs. +Goddard would bring Eleanor, of course; they would dine early--it would +not be late for the little girl. If they all liked they could call it tea +instead of dinner. Of course everything was topsy-turvy in the Hall, but +they would excuse that. He hoped to establish friendly relations with his +vicar and with his tenant--his fair tenant. Might he call soon and see +whether there was anything that could be done to improve the cottage? +Before the day when they were all coming to dine? He would call +to-morrow, then. Anything that needed doing should be done, Mrs. Goddard +might be sure. When the books arrived he would let Mr. Ambrose know, of +course, and they would have a day together. + +So he went away, leaving the impression that he was a very good-natured +and agreeable man. Even Mrs. Ambrose was mollified. He had shocked her by +his remark about sermon writing, but he had of course not meant it, and +he appeared to mean to be very civil. It was curious to see how all +severity vanished from Mrs. Ambrose's manner so soon as the stranger who +aroused it was out of sight and hearing. She appeared as a formidably +stern type of the British matron to the chance visitors who came to the +vicarage; but they were no sooner gone than her natural temper was +restored and she was kindness and geniality itself. + +But Mrs. Goddard was very thoughtful. She was not pleased at the fact of +an addition to the Billingsfield community, and yet she liked the +appearance of the squire. He had declared his intention of calling upon +her on the following day, and she would be bound to receive him. She was +young, she had been shut off from the world for two years, and the +prospect of Mr. Juxon's acquaintance was in itself not unpleasant; but +the idea that he was to be permanently established in the Hall frightened +her. She had felt since she came to Billingsfield that from the very +first she had put herself upon a footing of safety by telling her story +to the vicar. But the vicar would, not without her permission repeat that +story to Mr. Juxon. Was she herself called upon to do so? She was a very +sensitive woman, and her impressionable nature had been strongly affected +by what she had suffered. An almost morbid fear of seeming to make false +pretences possessed her. She was more than thirty years of age, it is +true, but she saw plainly enough in her glass that she was more than +passably good-looking still. There were one or two grey threads in her +brown waving hair and she took no trouble to remove them; no one ever +noticed them. There were one or two lines, very faint lines, in her +forehead; no one ever saw them. She could hardly see them herself. +Supposing--why should she not suppose it?--supposing Mr. Juxon were to +take a fancy to her, as a lone bachelor of forty and odd might easily +take a fancy to a pretty woman who was his tenant and lived at his gate, +what should she do? He was an honest man, and she was a conscientious +woman; she could not deceive him, if it came to that. She would have to +tell him the whole truth. As she thought of it, she turned pale and +trembled. And yet she had liked his face, she had told him he might call +at the cottage, and her woman's instinct foresaw that she was to see him +often. It was not vanity which made her think that the squire might grow +to like her too much. She had had experiences in her life and she knew +that she was attractive; the very fear she had felt for the last two +years lest she should be thrown into the society of men who might be +attracted by her, increased her apprehension tenfold. She could not look +forward with indifference to the expected visit, for the novelty of +seeing any one besides the vicar and his wife was too great; she could +not refuse to see the squire, for he would come again and again until she +received him; and yet, she could not get rid of the idea that there was +danger in seeing him. Call it as one may, that woman's instinct of peril +is rarely at fault. + +In the late twilight of the June evening Mrs. Goddard and Eleanor waited +home together by the broad road which led towards the park gate. + +"Don't you think Mr. Juxon is very kind, mamma?" asked the child. + +"Yes, darling, I have no doubt he is. It was very good of him to ask you +to go to the Hall." + +"And he called me Miss Goddard," said Eleanor. "I wonder whether he will +always call me Miss Goddard." + +"He did not know your name was Nellie," explained her mother. + +"Oh, I wish nobody knew, mamma. It was so nice. When shall I be grown up, +mamma?" + +"Soon, my child--too soon," said Mrs. Goddard with a sigh. Nellie looked +at her mother and was silent for a minute. + +"Mamma, do you like Mr. Juxon?" she asked presently. + +"No, dear--how can one like anybody one has only seen once?" + +"Oh--but I thought you might," said Nellie. "Don't you think you will, +mamma? Say you will--do!" + +"Why?" asked her mother in some surprise. "I cannot say anything about +it. I daresay he is very nice." + +"It will be so delightful to go to the Hall to dinner and be waited +on by big real servants--not like Susan at the vicarage, or Martha. Won't +you like it, mamma? Of course Mr. Juxon will have real servants, just +like--like poor papa." Nellie finished her speech rather doubtfully as +though not sure how her mother would take it. Mrs. Goddard sighed again, +but said nothing. She could not stop the child's talking--why should +Nellie not speak of her father? Nellie did not know. + +"I think it will be perfectly delightful," said Nellie, seeing she got no +answer from her mother, and as though putting the final seal of +affirmation to her remarks about the Hall. But she appeared to be +satisfied at not having been contradicted and did not return to the +subject that evening. + +Mr. Juxon lost no time in keeping his word and on the following morning +at about eleven o'clock, when Mrs. Goddard was just hearing the last of +Nellie's lesson in geography and little Nellie herself was beginning to +be terribly tired of acquiring knowledge in such very warm weather, the +squire's square figure was seen to emerge from the park gate opposite, +clad in grey knickerbockers and dark green stockings, a rose in his +buttonhole and a thick stick in his hand, presenting all the traditional +appearance of a thriving country gentleman of the period. He crossed the +road, stopped a moment and whistled his dog to heel and then opened the +wicket gate that led to the cottage. Nellie sprang to the window in wild +excitement. + +"Oh what a dog!" she cried. "Mamma, _do_ come and see! And Mr. Juxon is +coming, too--he has green stockings!" + +But Mrs. Goddard, who was not prepared for so early a visit, hastily put +away what might be described as the debris of Nellie's lessons, to wit, a +much thumbed book of geography, a well worn spelling book, a very +particularly inky piece of blotting paper, a pen of which most of the +stock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for +several months, and an ancient doll, without the assistance of which, as +a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could +not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them, +Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the +time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was +beginning to echo in the small passage, Mrs. Goddard had passed to the +consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but +in other respects she was presentable. + +"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her +mother. + +"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing +look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one +moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky +fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his +coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of +some gigantic beast plunging into the passage as the front door was +opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured +laugh from the squire. + +"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a +dog he is, sir--" + +"Is Mrs. Goddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the +collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire +looked in. Martha fled down the passage. + +"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to +exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage. + +"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression +of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!" + +"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr. +Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed +and was glad of the diversion. + +"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a +little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs. +Goddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder, +he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was +given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a +big dog is not it?" + +"Very," said Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an +exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he +combined with his gigantic strength and size a grace and swiftness of +motion which no mastiff can possess. His smooth clean coat, of a +perfectly even slate colour throughout, was without folds, close as a +greyhound's, showing every articulation and every swelling muscle of his +body. His broad square head and monstrous jaw betrayed more of the +quickness and sudden ferocity of the tiger than those suggested by the +heavy, lion-like jowl of the English mastiff. His ears, too, were close +cropped, in accordance with the Russian fashion, and somehow the +compactness this gave to his head seemed to throw forward and bring into +prominence his great fiery eyes, that reflected red lights as he moved, +and did not tend to inspire confidence in the timid stranger. + +"Do sit down," said Mrs. Goddard, and when the squire was seated Stamboul +sat himself down upon his haunches beside him, and looked slowly from his +master to the lady and back again, his tongue hanging out as though +anxious to hear what they might have to say to each other. + +"I thought I should be sure to find you in the morning," began Mr. Juxon, +after a pause. "I hope I have not disturbed you?" + +"Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished her lessons." + +"The fact is," continued the squire, "that I was going to survey the +nakedness of the land which has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of +the park I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist the +temptation of calling. I had no idea we were such near neighbours." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "it is very near." + +Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not exactly at a loss for words, +but Mrs. Goddard did not seem inclined to encourage the conversation. He +saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable but that its +arrangement betrayed a considerable taste for luxury. The furniture was +of a kind not generally seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed +part of some great establishment. The carpet itself was of a finer and +softer kind than any at the Hall. The writing-table was a piece of richly +inlaid work, and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe and +valuable kind that are seen in rich men's houses. A clock which was +undoubtedly of the Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece. On +the walls were hung three or four pictures which, Mr. Juxon thought, must +be both old and of great value. Upon a little table by the fireplace lay +four or five objects of Chinese jade and Japanese ivory and a silver +chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw, and wondered why such a +very pretty woman, who possessed such very pretty things, should choose +to come and live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield. And +having seen and wondered he became interested in his charming tenant and +endeavoured to carry on the conversation in a more confidential strain. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +"You have done more towards beautifying the cottage than I could have +hoped to do," said Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one +hand on Stamboul's great head. + +"It was very pretty of itself," answered Mrs. Goddard, "and fortunately +it is not very big, or my things would look lost in it." + +"I should not say that--you have so many beautiful things. They seem to +suit the place so well. I am sure you will never think of taking them +away." + +"Not if I can help it--I am too glad to be quiet." + +"You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire. + +"No--not exactly that--only a little, after all. I have not been to +Constantinople for instance," she added looking at the hound Mr. Juxon +had brought from the East. "You are indeed a traveller." + +"I have travelled all my life," said the squire, indifferently, as though +the subject of his wanderings did not interest him. "From what little I +have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will find all the quiet you could +wish, here. Really, I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for +information. What sort of man is that excellent rector down there, whom I +met last night?" + +The squire's tone became more confidential as he put the question. + +"Well--he is not a rector, to begin with," answered Mrs. Goddard with a +smile, "he is the vicar, and he is a most good man, whom I have always +found most kind." + +"I can readily fancy that," said Mr. Juxon. "But his wife seems to be of +the severe type." + +"No--she struck me so at first, too. I think it is only with strangers. +She is such a motherly sort of woman, you do not know! She only has that +little manner when you first meet her." + +"What a strange thing that is!" remarked the squire, looking at Mrs. +Goddard. "The natural belief of English people in each other's depravity +until they have had time to make acquaintance! And is there no one else +here--no doctor--no doctor's wife?" + +"Not a soul," answered Mrs. Goddard. "There is a doctor, but the vicarage +suspects him of free thought. He certainly never goes to church. He has +no wife." + +"This is the most Arcadian retreat I ever was in. Upon my word, I am a +very lucky man." + +"I suppose that it must be a relief when one has travelled so much," +replied Mrs. Goddard. + +"Or suffered very much," added the squire, half unconsciously, looking at +her sad face. + +"Yes," she answered. At that moment the door opened and Nellie entered +the room, having successfully grappled with the inkstains. She went +straight to the squire, and held out her hand, blushing a little, but +looking very pretty. Then she saw the huge head of Stamboul who looked up +at her with a ferociously agreeable canine smile, and thwacked the carpet +with his tail as he sat; Nellie started back. + +"Oh, what a dog!" she exclaimed. But very soon she was on excellent +terms with him; little Nellie was not timid, and Stamboul, who liked +people who were not afraid of him and was especially fond of children, +did his best to be amusing. + +"He is a very good dog," remarked Mr. Juxon. "He once did me a very good +service." + +"How was that?" + +"I was riding in the Belgrade forest one summer. I was alone with +Stamboul following. A couple of ruffians tried to rob me. Stamboul caught +one of them." + +"Did he hurt him very much?" + +"I don't know--he killed him before the fellow could scream, and I shot +the other," replied the squire calmly. + +"What a horrible story!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, turning pale. "Come +here, Nellie--don't touch that dreadful dog!" + +"Do not be afraid--he is perfectly harmless. Come here Stamboul!" The +huge beast obeyed, wagging his tail, and sat down at his master's feet, +still looking rather wistfully at Nellie who had been playing with him. +"You see," continued Mr. Juxon, "he is as quiet as a lamb--would not hurt +a fly!" + +"I think it is dreadful to have such animals about," said Mrs. Goddard in +a low voice, still looking at the dog with horror. + +"I am sorry I told you. It may prejudice you against him. I only meant to +explain how faithful he is, that is all. You see a man grows fond of a +creature that has saved his life." + +"I suppose so, but it is rather startling to see such an animal so near +to one. I fear I am very nervous." + +"By the bye." said the squire with the bold irrelevancy of a man who +wants to turn the subject, "are you fond of flowers?" + +"I?" said Mrs. Goddard in surprise. "Yes--very. Why?" + +"I thought you would not mind if I had the garden here improved a little. +One might put in a couple of frames. I did not see any flowers about. I +am so fond of them myself, you see, that I always look for them." + +"You are very kind," answered Mrs. Goddard. "But I would not have you +take any trouble on my account. We are so comfortable and so fond of the +cottage already--" + +"Well, I hope you will grow to like it even better," returned the squire +with a genial smile. "Anything I can do, you know--" he rose as though to +take his leave. "Excuse me, but may I look at that picture? Andrea del +Sarto? Yes, I thought so--wonderful--upon my word, in a cottage in +Billingsfield. Where did you find it?" + +"It was my husband's," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"Ah--ah, yes," said the squire in a subdued tone. "I beg your pardon," he +added, as people often do, unconsciously, when they fancy they have +accidentally roused in another a painful train of thought. Then he turned +to go. "We dine at half-past seven, you know, so as to be early for Miss +Nellie," he said, as he went out. + +Mrs. Goddard was glad he was gone, though she felt that he was not +unsympathetic. The story of the dog had frightened her, and her own +mention of her husband had made her nervous and sad. More than ever she +felt that fear of being in a false position, which had assailed her when +she had first met the squire on the previous evening. He had at once +opened relations with her in a way which showed that he intended to be +intimate; he had offered to improve her cottage, had insisted upon making +frames in her garden, had asked her to dinner with the Ambroses and had +established the right to talk to her whenever he got a chance. He +interested her, too, which was worse. His passing references to his +travels and to his adventures, of which he spoke with the indifference +of a man accustomed to danger, his unassuming manner, his frank +ways--everything about him awakened her interest. She had supposed that +in two years the very faculty of being interested by a man would be +dulled if not destroyed; she found to her annoyance that though she had +seen Mr. Juxon only twice she could not put him out of her thoughts. She +was, moreover, a nervous, almost morbid, woman, and the natural result of +trying to forget his existence was that she could think of nothing else. + +How much better it would be, she thought, if he knew her story from the +first. He might then be as friendly as he pleased; there would be no +danger in it, to him or to her. She almost determined to go at once and +ask the vicar's advice. But by the time she had nearly made up her mind +it was the hour for luncheon, and little Nellie's appetite was exigent. +By the time lunch was over her determination had changed. She had +reflected that the vicar would think her morbid, that, with his usual +good sense, he would say there was no necessity for telling the squire +anything; indeed, that to do so would be undignified. If the squire were +indeed going to lead the life of a recluse as he proposed doing, he was +not really a man to cause her any apprehension. If he had travelled about +the world for forty years, without having his heart disturbed by any of +the women he must have met in that time, he was certainly not the kind of +man, when once he had determined to settle in his home, to fall in love +with the first pretty woman he met. It was absurd; there was no +likelihood of it; it was her own miserable vanity, she told herself, +which made the thing seem probable, and she would not think any more +about it. She, a woman thirty-one years of age, with a daughter who ere +long would be growing up to womanhood! To be afraid of a mere stranger +like Mr. Juxon--afraid lest he should fall in love with her! Could +anything be more ridiculous? Her duty was to live quietly as she had +lived before, to take no more notice of the squire than was necessary in +order to be civil, and so all would be well. + +And so it seemed for a long time. The squire improved the garden of the +cottage and Mrs. Goddard and Nellie, with the Ambroses, dined at the +Hall, which at first seemed an exceedingly dreary and dismal place, but +which, as they returned thither again and again, grew more and more +luxurious, till the transformation was complete. Mr. Juxon brought all +manner of things to the house; vans upon vans arrived, laden with boxes +of books and pictures and oriental carpets and rare objects which the +squire had collected in his many years of travel, and which he appeared +to have stored in London until he had at last inherited the Hall. The +longer the Ambroses and Mrs. Goddard knew him, the more singularly +impressed they were with his reticence concerning himself. He appeared to +have been everywhere, to have seen everything, and he had certainly +brought back a vast collection of more or less valuable objects from his +travels, besides the large library he had accumulated and which contained +many rare and curious editions of ancient books. He was evidently a man +of very good education, and a much better scholar than he was willing to +allow. The vicar delighted in his society and when the two found +themselves together in the great room which Mr. Juxon had lined with +well-filled shelves, they remained for hours absorbed in literary and +scholastic talk. But whenever the vicar approached the subject of the +squire's past life, the latter became vague and gave ambiguous answers to +any direct questions addressed to him. He evidently disliked talking of +himself, though he would talk about anything else that occurred to him +with a fluency which Mrs. Ambrose declared was the only un-English thing +about him. The consequence was that the vicar became more and more +interested in his new acquaintance, and though the squire was so frank +and honest a man that it was impossible to suspect him of any doubtful +action in the past, Mr. Ambrose suspected that he had a secret. Indeed +after hearing the story Mrs. Goddard had confided to his ears, nothing +would have surprised the vicar. After finding that so good, so upright +and so honourable a woman as the fair tenant of the cottage could be put +into such a singularly painful position as that in which she now found +herself, it was not hard to imagine that this singular person who had +inherited the Hall might also have some weighty reason for loving the +solitude of Billingsfield. + +To chronicle the small events which occurred in that Arcadian parish, +would be to overstep the bounds of permissible tediousness. In such +places all events move slowly and take long to develop to their results. +The passions which in our own quickly moving world spring up, flourish, +wither and are cut down in a month require, when they are not stimulated +by the fertilising heat of artificial surroundings, a longer period for +their growth; and when that growth is attained they are likely to be +stronger and more deeply rooted. It is not true that the study of them is +less interesting, nor that they have less importance in themselves. The +difficulty of narrative is greater when they are to be described, for it +is necessary to carry the imagination in a short time over a long period, +to show how from small incidents great results follow, and to show also +how the very limited and trivial nature of the surroundings may cause +important things to be overlooked. Amidst such influences acquaintance is +soon made between the few persons so thrown together, but each is apt to +regard such new acquaintance merely as bearing upon his or her own +particular interests. It is surprising to see how people will live side +by side in solitude, even in danger, in distant settlements, in the +mining districts of the West, in up-country stations in India, on board +ship, even, for months and years, without knowing anything of each +other's previous history; whereas in the crowded centres of civilisation +and society the first questions are "Where does he come from?" "What are +his antecedents?" "What has he done in the world?" And unless a man can +answer such inquiries to the general satisfaction he is likely to be +heavily handicapped in the social race. But in more primitive situations +men are ruled by more primitive feelings of mutual respect; it is +considered that a man should not be pressed to speak of things he shows +no desire to discuss and that, provided he does not interfere with his +neighbour's wellbeing, his past life is nobody's business. One may feel +curiosity concerning him, but under no circumstances is one justified in +asking questions. + +For these reasons, although Mr. Juxon's arrival and instalment in the +Hall were regarded with satisfaction by the little circle at +Billingsfield, while he himself was at once received into intimacy and +treated with cordial friendliness, he nevertheless represented in the +minds of all an unsolved enigma. And to the squire the existence of one +of the circle was at least as problematical as his own life could seem to +any of them. The more he saw of Mrs. Goddard, the more he wondered at her +and speculated about her and the less he dared to ask her any questions. +But he understood from Mr. Ambrose's manner, that the vicar at least was +in possession of her secret, and he inferred from what he was able to +judge about the vicar's character that the latter was not a man to extend +his friendship to any one who did not deserve it. Whatever Mrs. Goddard's +story was, he felt sure that her troubles had not been caused by her own +misconduct. She was in every respect what he called a good woman. Of +course, too, she was a widow; the way in which she spoke of her husband +implied that, on those rare occasions when she spoke of him at all. +Charles James Juxon was a gentleman, whatever course of life he had +followed before settling in the country, and he did not feel that he +should be justified in asking questions about Mrs. Goddard of the vicar. +Besides, as time went on and he found his own interest in her increasing, +he began to nourish the hope that he might one day hear her story from +her own lips. In his simplicity it did not strike him that he himself had +grown to be an object of interest to her. + +Somehow, during the summer and autumn of that year, Mrs. Goddard +contracted a habit of watching the park gate from the window of the +cottage, particularly at certain hours of the day. It was only a habit, +but it seemed to amuse her. She used to sit in the small bay window with +her books, reading to herself or teaching Nellie, and it was quite +natural that from time to time she should look out across the road. But +it rarely happened, when she was installed in that particular place, that +Mr. Juxon failed to appear at the gate, with his dog Stamboul, his green +stockings, his stick and the inevitable rose in his coat. Moreover he +generally crossed the road and, if he did not enter the cottage and spend +a quarter of an hour in conversation, he at least spoke to Mrs. Goddard +through the open window. It was remarkable, too, that as time went on +what at first had seemed the result of chance, recurred with such +invariable regularity as to betray the existence of a fixed rule. Nellie, +too, who was an observant child, had ceased asking questions but watched +her mother with her great violet eyes in a way that made Mrs. Goddard +nervous. Nellie liked the squire very much but though she asked her +mother very often at first whether she, too, was fond of that nice Mr. +Juxon, the answers she received were not encouraging. How was it +possible, Mrs. Goddard asked, to speak of liking anybody one had known so +short a time? And as Nellie was quite unable to answer such an inquiry, +she desisted from her questions and applied herself to the method of +personal observation. But here, too, she was met by a hopeless +difficulty. The squire and her mother never seemed to have any secrets, +as Nellie would have expressed it. They met daily, and daily exchanged +very much the same remarks concerning the weather, the garden, the +vicar's last sermon. When they talked about anything else, they spoke of +books, of which the squire lent Mrs. Goddard a great number. But this was +a subject which did not interest Nellie very much; she was not by any +means a prodigy in the way of learning, and though she was now nearly +eleven years old was only just beginning to read the Waverley novels. On +one occasion she remarked to her mother that she did not believe a word +of them and did not think they were a bit like real life, but the +momentary fit of scepticism soon passed and Nellie read on contentedly, +not omitting however to watch her mother in order to find out, as her +small mind expressed it, "whether mamma really liked that nice Mr. +Juxon." Events were slowly preparing themselves which would help her to +come to a satisfactory conclusion upon that matter. + +Mr. Juxon himself was in a very uncertain state of mind. After knowing +Mrs. Goddard for six months, and having acquired the habit of seeing her +almost every day, he found to his surprise that she formed a necessary +part of his existence. It need not have surprised him, for in spite of +that lady's surmise with regard to his early life, he was in reality a +man of generous and susceptible temperament. He recognised in the +charming tenant of the cottage many qualities which he liked, and he +could not deny that she was exceedingly pretty. Being a strong man he was +particularly attracted by the pathetic expression of her face, the +perpetual sadness that was visible there when she was not momentarily +interested or amused. Had he suspected her paleness and air of secret +suffering to be the result of any physical infirmity, she would not have +interested him so much. But Mrs. Goddard's lithe figure and easy grace of +activity belied all idea of weakness. It was undoubtedly some hidden +suffering of mind which lent that sadness to her voice and features, and +which so deeply roused the sympathies of the squire. At the end of six +months Mr. Juxon was very much interested in Mrs. Goddard, but despite +all his efforts to be agreeable he seemed to have made no progress +whatever in the direction of banishing her cares. To tell the truth, it +did not enter his mind that he was in love with her. She was his tenant; +she was evidently very unhappy about something; it was therefore +undeniably his duty as a landlord and as a gentleman to make life +easy for her. + +He wondered what the matter could be. At first he had been inclined to +think that she was poor and was depressed by poverty. But though she +lived very simply, she never seemed to be in difficulties. Five hundred +pounds a year go a long way in the village of Billingsfield. It was +certainly not want of money which made her unhappy. The interest of the +sum represented by the pictures hung in her little sitting-room, not to +mention the other objects of value she possessed, would have been alone +sufficient to afford her a living. The squire himself would have given +her a high price for these things, but in six months she never in the +most distant manner suggested that she wished to part with them. The idea +then naturally suggested itself to Mr. Juxon's mind that she was still +mourning for her husband, and that she would probably continue to mourn +for him until some one, himself for instance, succeeded in consoling her +for so great a loss. + +The conclusion startled the squire. That was not precisely the part he +contemplated playing, nor the species of consolation he proposed to +offer. Mrs. Goddard was indeed a charming woman, and the squire liked +charming women and delighted in their society. But Mr. Juxon was a +bachelor of more than forty years standing, and he had never regarded +marriage as a thing of itself, for himself, desirable. He immediately +thrust the idea from his mind with a mental "_vade retro Satanas_!" and +determined that things were very agreeable in their present state, and +might go on for ever; that if Mrs. Goddard was unhappy that did not +prevent her from talking very pleasantly whenever he saw her, which was +nearly every day, and that her griefs were emphatically none of his +business. Before very long however Mr. Juxon discovered that though it +was a very simple thing to make such a determination it was a very +different thing to keep it. Mrs. Goddard interested him too much. When he +was with her he was perpetually longing to talk about herself instead of +about the weather and the garden and the books, and once or twice he was +very nearly betrayed into talking about himself, a circumstance so +extraordinary that Mr. Juxon imagined he must be either ill or going mad, +and thought seriously of sending for the doctor. He controlled the +impulse, however, and temporarily recovered; but strange to say from that +time forward the conversation languished when he found himself alone with +Mrs. Goddard, and it seemed very hard to maintain their joint interest in +the weather, the garden and the books at the proper standard of +intensity. They had grown intimate, and familiarity had begun to breed a +contempt of those petty subjects upon which their intimacy had been +founded. It is not clear why this should be so, but it is true, +nevertheless, and many a couple before Charles Juxon and Mary Goddard had +found it out. As the interest of two people in each other increases their +interest in things, as things, diminishes in like ratio, and they are +very certain ultimately to reach that point described by the Frenchman's +maxim--"a man should never talk to a woman except of herself or himself." + +If Mr. Juxon was not in love with Mary Goddard he was at least rapidly +approaching a very dangerous state; for he saw her every day and could +not let one day go by without seeing her, and moreover he grew silent in +her company, to a degree which embarrassed her and made him feel himself +more stupid than he had ever dreamed possible; so that he would sometimes +stay too long, in the hope of finding something to say, and sometimes he +would leave her abruptly and go and shut himself up with his books, and +busy himself with his catalogues and his bindings and the arrangement of +his rare editions. One day at last, he felt that he had behaved so very +absurdly that he was ashamed of himself, and suddenly disappeared for +nearly a week. When he returned he said he had been to town to attend a +great sale of books, which was perfectly true; he did not add that the +learned expert he employed in London could have done the business for him +just as well. But the trip had done him no good, for he grew more silent +than ever, and Mrs. Goddard even thought his brown face looked a shade +paler; but that might have been the effect of the winter weather. +Ordinary sunburn she reflected, as she looked at her own white skin in +the mirror, will generally wear off in six months, though freckles will +not. + +If Mr. Juxon was not in love, it would be very hard to say what Mary +Goddard felt. It was not true that time was effacing the memory of the +great sorrow she had suffered. It was there still, that memory, keen and +sharp as ever; it would never go away again so long as she lived. But she +had been soothed by the quiet life in Billingsfield; the evidences of the +past had been removed far from her, she had found in the Reverend +Augustin Ambrose one of those rare and manly natures who can keep a +secret for ever without ever referring to its existence even with the +person who has confided it. For a few days she had hesitated whether to +ask the vicar's advice about Mr. Juxon or not. She had thought it her +duty to allow Mr. Ambrose to tell the squire whatever he thought fit of +her own story. But she had changed her mind, and the squire had remained +in ignorance. It was best so, she thought; for now, after more than six +months, Mr. Juxon had taken the position of a friend towards her, and, as +she thought, showed no disposition whatever to overstep the boundaries of +friendship. The regularity of his visits and the sameness of the +conversation seemed of themselves a guarantee of his simple goodwill. It +did not strike her as possible that if he were going to fall in love with +her at all, that catastrophe should be postponed beyond six months from +their first acquaintance. Nor did it seem extraordinary to her that she +should actually look forward to those visits, and take pleasure in that +monotonous intercourse. Her life was very quiet; it was natural that she +should take whatever diversion came in her way, and should even be +thankful for it. Mr. Juxon was an honest gentleman, a scholar and a man +who had seen the world. If what he said was not always very original it +was always very true, a merit not always conceded to the highest +originality. He spoke intelligently; he told her the news; he lent her +the newest books and reviews, and offered her his opinions upon them, +with the regularity of a daily paper. In such a place, where +communications with the outer world seemed as difficult as at the +antipodes, and where the remainder of society was limited to the +household of the vicarage, what wonder was it if she found Mr. Juxon an +agreeable companion, and believed the companionship harmless? + +But far down in the involutions of her feminine consciousness there was +present a perpetual curiosity in regard to the squire, a curiosity she +never expected to satisfy, but was wholly unable to repress. Under the +influence of this feeling she made remarks from time to time of an +apparently harmless nature, but which in the squire promoted that strange +inclination to talk about himself, which he had lately observed and which +caused him so much alarm. He said to himself that he had nothing to be +concealed, and that if any one had asked him direct questions concerning +his past he would have answered them boldly enough. But he knew himself +to be so singularly averse to dwelling on his own affairs that he +wondered why he should now be impelled to break through so good a rule. +Indeed he had not the insight to perceive that Mrs. Goddard lost no +opportunity of leading him to the subject of his various adventures, and, +if he had suspected it, he would have been very much surprised. + +Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were far from guessing what an intimacy had sprung +up between the two. Both the cottage and the Hall lay at a considerable +distance from the vicarage, and though Mrs. Ambrose occasionally went to +see Mrs. Goddard at irregular hours in the morning and afternoon, it was +remarkable that the squire never called when she was there. Once Mrs. +Ambrose arrived during one of his visits, but thought it natural enough +that Mr. Juxon should drop in to see his tenant. Indeed when she called +the two were talking about the garden--as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +John Short had almost finished his hard work at college. For two years +and a half he had laboured on acquiring for himself reputation and a +certain amount of more solid advantage in the shape of scholarships. +Never in that time had he left Cambridge even for a day unless compelled +to do so by the regulations of his college. His father had found it hard +to induce him to come up to town; and, being in somewhat easier +circumstances since John had declared that he needed no further help to +complete his education, he had himself gone to see his son more than +once. But John had never been to Billingsfield and he knew nothing of the +changes that had taken place there. At last, however, Short felt that he +must have some rest before he went up for honours; he had grown thin and +even pale; his head ached perpetually, and his eyes no longer seemed so +good as they had been. He went to a doctor, and the doctor told him that +with his admirable constitution a few days of absolute rest would do all +that was necessary. John wrote to Mr. Ambrose to say that he would at +last accept the invitation so often extended and would spend the week +between Christmas and New Year's day at Billingsfield. + +There were great rejoicings at the vicarage. John had never been +forgotten for a day since he had left, each successive step in his career +had been hailed with hearty delight, and now that at last he was coming +back to rest himself for a week before the final effort Mrs. Ambrose was +as enthusiastic as her husband. Even Mrs. Goddard, who was not quite sure +whether she had ever seen John or not, and the squire who had certainly +never seen him, joined in the general excitement. Mrs. Goddard asked the +entire party to tea at the cottage and the squire asked them to come and +skate at the Hall and to dine afterwards; for the weather was cold and +the vicar said John was a very good skater. Was there anything John could +not do? There was nothing he could not do much better than anybody else, +answered Mr. Ambrose; and the good clergyman's pride in his pupil was +perhaps not the less because he had at first received him on charitable +considerations, and felt that if he had risked much in being so generous +he had also been amply rewarded by the brilliant success of his +undertaking. + +When John arrived, everybody said he was "so much improved." He had got +his growth now, being close upon one and twenty years of age; his blue +eyes were deeper set; his downy whiskers had disappeared and a small +moustache shaded his upper lip; he looked more intellectual but not less +strong, though Mrs. Ambrose said he was dreadfully pale--perhaps he owed +some of the improvement observed in his appearance to the clothes he +wore. Poor boy, he had been but scantily supplied in the old days; he +looked prosperous, now, by comparison. + +"We have had great additions to our society, since you left us," said the +vicar. "We have got a squire at the Hall, and a lady with a little girl +at the cottage." + +"Such a nice little girl," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. + +When John found out that the lady at the cottage was no other than the +lady in black to whom he had lost his heart two years and a half before, +he was considerably surprised. It would be absurd to suppose that the +boyish fancy which had made so much romance in his life for so many +months could outlast the excitements of the University. It would be +absurd to dignify such a fancy by any serious name. He had grown to be a +man since those days and he had put away childish things. He blushed to +remember that he had spent hours in writing odes to the beautiful +unknown, and whole nights in dreaming of her face. And yet he could +remember that as much as a year after he had left Billingsfield he still +thought of her as his highest ideal of woman, and still occasionally +composed a few verses to her memory, regretting, perhaps, the cooling of +his poetic ardour. Then he had gradually lost sight of her in the hard +work which made up his life. Profound study had made him more prosaic and +he believed that he had done with ideals for ever, after the manner of +many clever young fellows who at one and twenty feel that they are +separated from the follies of eighteen by a great and impassable gulf. +The gulf, however, was not in John's case so wide nor so deep but what, +at the prospect of being suddenly brought face to face, and made +acquainted, with her who for so long had seemed the object of a romantic +passion, he felt a strange thrill of surprise and embarrassment. Those +meetings of later years generally bring painful disillusion. How many of +us can remember some fair-haired little girl who in our childhood +represented to us the very incarnation of feminine grace and beauty, for +whom we fetched and carried, for whom we bound nosegays on the heath and +stole apples from the orchard and climbed upon the table after desert, if +we were left alone in the dining-room, to lay hands on some beautiful +sweetmeat wrapped in tinsel and fringes of pink paper--have we not met +her again in after-life, a grown woman, very, very far from our ideal of +feminine grace and beauty? And still in spite of changes in herself and +ourselves there has clung to her memory through all those years enough of +romance to make our heart beat a little faster at the prospect of +suddenly meeting her, enough to make us wonder a little regretfully if +she was at all like the little golden-haired child we loved long ago. + +But with John the feeling was stronger than that. It was but two years +and a half since he had seen Mrs. Goddard, and, not even knowing her +name, had erected for her a pedestal in his boyish heart. There was +moreover about her a mystery still unsolved. There was something odd and +strange in her one visit to the vicarage, in the fact that the vicar had +never referred to that visit and, lastly, it seemed unlike Mr. Ambrose to +have said nothing of her settlement in Billingsfield in the course of all +the letters he had written to John since the latter had left him. John +dwelt upon the name--Goddard--but it held no association for him. It was +not at all like the names he had given her in his imagination. He +wondered what she would be like and he felt nervously anxious to meet +her. Somehow, too, what he heard of the squire did not please him; he +felt an immediate antagonism to Mr. Juxon, to his books, to his amateur +scholarship, even to his appearance as described by Mrs. Ambrose, who +said he was such a thorough Englishman and wondered how he kept his hair +so smooth. + +It was not long before he had an opportunity of judging for himself of +what Mr. Ambrose called the recent addition to Billingsfield society. On +the very afternoon of his arrival the vicar proposed to walk up to the +Hall and have a look at the library, and John readily assented. It was +Christmas Eve and the weather, even in Essex, was sharp and frosty. The +muddy road was frozen hard and the afternoon sun, slanting through the +oak trees that bordered the road beyond the village, made no perceptible +impression on the cold. The two men walked briskly in the direction of +the park gate. Before they had quite reached it however, the door of the +cottage opposite was opened, and Stamboul, the Russian bloodhound, +bounded down the path, cleared the wicket gate in his vast stride, and +then turning suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to wait for his +master. But the dog instantly caught sight of the vicar, with whom he was +on very good terms, and trotted slowly up to him, thrusting his great +nose into his hand, and then proceeding to make acquaintance with John. +He seemed to approve of the stranger, for he gave a short sniff of +satisfaction and trotted back to the wicket of the cottage. At this +moment Mrs. Goddard and Nellie came out, followed by the squire arrayed +in his inevitable green stockings. There was however no rose in his coat. +Whether the greenhouses at the Hall had failed to produce any in the +bitter weather, or whether Mr. Juxon had transferred the rose from his +coat to the possession of Mrs. Goddard, is uncertain. The three came out +into the road where the vicar and John stood still to meet them. + +"Mrs. Goddard," said the clergyman, "this is Mr. Short, of whom you have +heard--John, let me introduce you to Mr. Juxon." + +John felt that he blushed violently as he took Mrs. Goddard's hand. He +would not have believed that he could feel so much embarrassed, and he +hated himself for betraying it. But nobody noticed his colour. The +weather was bright and cold, and even Mrs. Goddard's pale and delicate +skin had a rosy tinge. + +"We were just going for a walk," she explained. + +"And we were going to see you at the Hall," said the vicar to Mr. Juxon. + +"Let us do both," said the latter. "Let us walk to the Hall and have +a cup of tea. We can look at the ice and see whether it will bear +to-morrow." + +Everybody agreed to the proposal, and it so fell out that the squire and +the vicar went before while John and Mrs. Goddard followed and Nellie +walked between them, holding Stamboul by the collar, and talking to him +as she went. John looked at his companion, and saw with a strange +satisfaction that his first impression, the impression he had cherished +so long, had not been a mistaken one. Her deep violet eyes were still +sad, beautiful and dreamy. Her small nose was full of expression, and was +not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be. Her rich brown hair +waved across her forehead as it did on that day when John first saw her; +and now as he spoke with her, her mouth smiled, as he had been sure it +would. John felt a curious sense of pride in her, in finding that he had +not been deceived, that this ideal of whom he had dreamed was really and +truly very good to look at. He knew little of the artist's rules of +beauty; he had often looked with wonder at the faces in the illustrations +to Dr. Smith's classical dictionary, and had tried to understand where +the beauty of them lay, and at Cambridge he had seen and studied with +interest many photographs and casts from the antiques. But to his mind +the antique would not bear comparison for a moment with Mrs. Goddard, who +resembled no engraving nor photograph nor cast he had ever seen. + +And she, too, looked at him, and said to herself that he did not look +like what she had expected. He looked like a lean, fresh young Englishman +of moderate intelligence and in moderate circumstances. And yet she knew +that he was no ordinary young fellow, that he was wonderfully gifted, in +fact, and likely to make a mark in the world. She resolved to take a +proper interest in him. + +"Do you know," she said, "I have heard so much about you, that I feel as +though I had met you before, Mr. Short." + +"We really have met," said John. "Do you remember that hot day when you +came to the vicarage and I waked up Muggins for you?" + +"Yes--was that you? You have changed. That is, I suppose I did not see +you very well in the hurry." + +"I suppose I have changed in two years and a half. I was only a boy then, +you know. But how have you heard so much about me?" + +"Billingsfield," said Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, "is not a large +place. The Ambroses are very fond of you and always talk of what you are +doing." + +"And so you really live here, Mrs. Goddard? How long is it since you +came? Mr. Ambrose never told me--" + +"I have been here more than two years--two years last October," she +answered quietly. + +"The very year I left--only a month after I was gone. How strange!" + +Mrs. Goddard looked up nervously. She was frightened lest John should +have made any deductions from the date of her arrival. But John was +thinking in a very different train of thought. + +"Why is it strange?" she asked. + +"Oh, I hardly know," said John in considerable embarrassment. "I was only +thinking--about you--that is, about it all." + +The answer did not tend to quiet Mrs. Goddard's apprehensions. + +"About me?" she exclaimed. "Why should you think about me?" + +"It was very foolish, of course," said John. "Only, when I caught sight +of you that day I was very much struck. You know, I was only a boy, then. +I hoped you would come back--but you did not." He blushed violently, and +then glanced at his companion to see whether she had noticed it. + +"No," she said, "I did not come back for some time." + +"And then I was gone. Mr. Ambrose never told me you had come." + +"Why should he?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I think he might. You see Billingsfield has been a +sort of home to me, and it is a small place; so I thought he might have +told me the news." + +"I suppose he thought it would not interest you," said Mrs. Goddard. "I +am sure I do not know why it should. But you must be very fond of the +place, are you not?" + +"Very. As I was saying, it is very like home to me. My father lives in +town you know--that is not at all like home. One always associates the +idea of home with the country, and a vicarage and a Hall, and all that." + +"Does one?" said Mrs. Goddard, picking her way over the frozen mud of the +road. "Take care, Nellie, it is dreadfully slippery!" + +"How much she has grown," remarked John, looking at the girl's active +figure as she walked before them. "She was quite a little girl when I saw +her first." + +"Yes, she grows very fast," answered Mrs. Goddard rather regretfully. + +"You say that as though you were sorry." + +"I? No. I am glad to see her grow. What a funny remark." + +"I thought you spoke sadly," explained John. + +"Oh, dear no. Only she is coming to the awkward age." + +"She is coming to it very gracefully," said John, who wanted to say +something pleasant. + +"That is the most any of us can hope to do," answered Mrs. Goddard with a +little smile. "We all have our awkward age, I suppose." + +"I should not think you could remember yours." + +"Why? Do you think it was so very long ago?" Mrs. Goddard laughed. + +"No--I cannot believe you ever had any," said John. + +The boyish compliment pleased Mrs. Goddard. It was long since any one had +flattered her, for flattery did not enter into the squire's system for +making himself agreeable. + +"Do they teach that sort of thing at Cambridge?" she asked demurely. + +"What sort of thing?" + +"Making little speeches to ladies," said she. + +"No--I wish they did," said John, laughing. "I should know much better +how to make them. We learn how to write Greek odes to moral +abstractions." + +"What a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. + +"Do you think so? I do not know. Now, for instance, I have written a +great many Greek odes to you--" + +"To me?" interrupted his companion in surprise. + +"Do you think it is so very extraordinary?" + +"Very." + +"Well--you see--I only saw you once--you won't laugh?" + +"No," said Mrs. Goddard, who was very much amused, and was beginning to +think that John Short was the most original young man she had ever met. + +"I only saw you once, when you came to the vicarage, and I had not the +least idea what your name was. But I--I hoped you would come back; and so +I used to write poems to you. They were very good, too," added John in a +meditative tone, "I have never written any nearly so good as they were." + +"Really?" Mrs. Goddard looked at him rather incredulously and then +laughed. + +"You said you would not laugh," objected John. + +"I cannot help it in the least," said she. "It seems so funny." + +"It did not seem funny to me, I can assure you," replied John rather +warmly. "I thought it very serious." + +"You don't do it now, do you?" asked Mrs. Goddard, looking up at him +quietly. + +"Oh no--a man's ideals change so much, you know," answered John, who felt +he had been foolishly betrayed into telling his story, and hated to be +laughed at. + +"I am very glad of that. How long are you going to stay here, Mr. Short?" + +"Until New Year's Day, I think," he answered. "Perhaps you will have time +to forget about the poetry before I go." + +"I don't know why," said Mrs. Goddard, noticing his hurt tone. "I +think it was very pretty--I mean the way you did it. You must be a born +poet--to write verses to a person you did not know and had only seen +once!" + +"It is much easier than writing verses to moral abstractions one has +never seen at all," explained John, who was easily pacified. "When a man +writes a great deal he feels the necessity of attaching all those +beautiful moral qualities to some real, living person whom he can see--" + +"Even if he only sees her once," remarked Mrs. Goddard demurely. + +"Yes, even if he only sees her once. You have no idea how hard it is to +concentrate one's faculties upon a mere idea; but the moment a man sees a +woman whom he can endow with all sorts of beautiful qualities--why it's +just as easy as hunting." + +"I am glad to have been of so much service to you, even +unconsciously--but, don't you think perhaps Mrs. Ambrose would have done +as well?" + +"Mrs. Ambrose?" repeated John. Then he broke into a hearty laugh. "No--I +have no hesitation in saying that she would not have done as well. I am +deeply indebted to Mrs. Ambrose for a thousand kindnesses, for a great +deal more than I can tell--but, on the whole, I say, no; I could not have +written odes to Mrs. Ambrose." + +"No, I suppose not. Besides, fancy the vicar's state of mind! She would +have had to call him in to translate your poetry." + +"It is very singular," said John in a tone of reflection. "But, if I had +not done all that, we should not be talking as we are now, after ten +minutes acquaintance." + +"Probably not," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"No--certainly not. By the bye, there is the Hall. I suppose you have +often been there since Mr. Juxon came--what kind of man is he?" + +"He has been a great traveller," answered his companion. "And then--well, +he is a scholar and has an immense library--" + +"And an immense dog--yes, but I mean, what kind of man is he himself?" + +"He is very agreeable," said Mrs. Goddard quietly. "Very well bred, very +well educated. We find him a great addition in Billingsfield." + +"I should think so, if he is all you say," said John discontentedly. His +antagonism against Mr. Juxon was rapidly increasing. Mrs. Goddard looked +at him in some surprise, being very far from understanding his tone. + +"I think you will like him," she said. "He knows all about you from the +Ambroses, and he always speaks of you with the greatest admiration." + +"Really? It is awfully kind of him, I am sure. I am very much obliged," +said John rather contemptuously. + +"Why do you speak like that?" asked Mrs. Goddard gravely. "You cannot +possibly have any cause for disliking him. Besides, he is a friend of +ours--" + +"Oh, of course, then it is different," said John. "If he is a friend of +yours--" + +"Do you generally take violent dislikes to people at first sight, Mr. +Short?" + +"Oh, dear no. Not at all--at least, not dislikes. I suppose Mr. Juxon's +face reminds me of somebody I do not like. I will behave like an angel. +Here we are." + +The effect of this conversation upon the two persons between whom it took +place was exceedingly different. Mrs. Goddard was amused, without being +altogether pleased. She had made the acquaintance of a refreshingly young +scholar whom she understood to be full of genius. He was enthusiastic, +simple, seemingly incapable of concealing anything that passed through +his mind, unreasonable and evidently very susceptible. On the whole, she +thought she should like him, though his scornful manner in speaking of +the squire had annoyed her. The interest she could feel in him, if she +felt any at all, would be akin to that of the vicar in the boy. He was +only a boy; brilliantly talented, they said, but still a mere boy. She +was fully ten years older than he--she might almost be his mother--well, +not quite that, but very nearly. It was amusing to think of his writing +odes to her. She wished she could see translations of them, and she +almost made up her mind to ask him to show them to her. + +John on the other hand experienced a curious sensation. He had never +before been in the society of so charming a woman. He looked at her and +looked again, and came to the conclusion that she was not only charming +but beautiful. He had not the least idea of her age; it is not the manner +of his kind to think much about the age of a woman, provided she is not +too young. The girl might be ten. Mrs. Goddard might have married at +sixteen--twenty-six, twenty-seven--what was that? John called himself +twenty-two. Five years was simply no difference at all! Besides, who +cared for age? + +He had suddenly found himself almost on a footing of intimacy with this +lovely creature. His odes had served him well; it had pleased her to hear +the story. She had laughed a little, of course; but women, as John knew, +always laugh when they are pleased. He would like to show her his odes. +As he walked through the park by her side he felt a curious sense of +possession in her which gave him a thrill of exquisite delight; and when +they entered the Hall he felt as though he were resigning her to the +squire, which gave him a corresponding sense of annoyance. When an +Englishman experiences these sensations, he is in love. John resolved +that whatever happened he would walk back with Mrs. Goddard. + +"Come in," said the squire cheerily. "We are not so cold as we used to be +up here." + +A great fire of logs was burning upon the hearth in the Hall. Stamboul +stalked up to the open chimney, scratched the tiger's skin which served +for a rug, and threw himself down as though his day's work were done. +Mr. Juxon went up to Mrs. Goddard. + +"I think you had better take off your coat," he said. "The house is very +warm." + +Mrs. Goddard allowed the squire to help her in removing the heavy black +jacket lined and trimmed with fur, which she wore. John eyed the +proceeding uneasily and kept on his greatcoat. + +"Thank you--I don't mind the heat," he said shortly when the squire +suggested to him that he might be too warm. John was in a fit of +contrariety. Mrs. Goddard glanced at him, as he spoke, and he thought he +detected a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, which did not tend to smooth +his temper. + +"You will have some tea, Mrs. Goddard?" said Mr. Juxon, leading the way +into the library, which he regarded as the most habitable room in the +house. Mrs. Goddard walked by his side and the vicar followed, while John +and Nellie brought up the rear. + +"Is not it a beautiful place?" said Nellie, who was anxious that the +new-comer should appreciate the magnificence of the Hall. + +"Can't see very well," said John, "it is so dark." + +"Oh, but it is beautiful," insisted Miss Nellie. "And they have lots of +lamps here in the evening. Perhaps Mr. Juxon will have them lighted +before we go. He is always so kind." + +"Is he?" asked John with a show of interest. + +"Yes--he brings mamma a rose every day," said Nellie. + +"Not really?" said John, beginning to feel that he was justified in +hating the squire with all his might. + +"Yes--and books, too. Lots of them--but then, he has so many. See, this +is the library. Is not it splendid!" + +John looked about him and was surprised. The last rays of the setting sun +fell across the open lawn and through the deep windows of the great room, +illuminating the tall carved bookcases, the heavily gilt bindings, the +rich, dark Russia leather and morocco of the folios. The footsteps of the +party fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet and almost insensibly the +voices of the visitors dropped to a lower key. A fine large wood fire was +burning on the hearth, carefully covered with a metal netting lest any +spark should fly out and cause damage to the treasures accumulated in the +neighbouring shelves. + +"Pray make yourself at home, Mr. Short," said the squire, coming up to +John. "You may find something of interest here. There are some old +editions of the classics that are thought rare--some specimens of +Venetian printing, too, that you may like to look at. Mr. Ambrose can +tell you more about them than I." + +John's feeling of antagonism, and even his resentment against Mr. Juxon, +roused by Nellie's innocent remark about the roses, were not proof +against the real scholastic passion aroused by the sight of rare and +valuable books. In a few minutes he had divested himself of his greatcoat +and was examining the books with an expression of delight upon his face +which was pleasant to see. He glanced from time to time at the other +persons in the room and looked very often at Mrs. Goddard, but on the +whole he was profoundly interested in the contents of the library. Mrs. +Goddard was installed in a huge leathern easy-chair by the fire, and the +squire was handing her one after another a number of new volumes which +lay upon a small table, and which she appeared to examine with interest. +Nellie knew where to look for her favourite books of engravings and had +curled herself up in a corner absorbed in "Hyde's Royal Residences." The +vicar went to look for something he wanted to consult. + +"What do you think of our new friend?" asked Mrs. Goddard of the squire. +She spoke in a low tone and did not look up from the new book he had just +handed her. + +"He appears to have a very peculiar temper," said Mr. Juxon. "But he +looks clever." + +"What do you think he was talking about as we came through the park?" +asked Mrs. Goddard. + +"What?" + +"He was saying that he saw me once before he went to college, and--fancy +how deliciously boyish! he said he had written ever so many Greek odes to +my memory since!" Mrs. Goddard laughed a little and blushed faintly. + +"Let us hope, for the sake of his success, that you may continue to +inspire him," said the squire gravely. "I have no doubt the odes were +very good." + +"So he said. Fancy!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Mrs. Goddard did not mean to walk home with John; but on the other hand +she did not mean to walk with the squire. She revolved the matter in her +mind as she sat in the library talking in an undertone with Mr. Juxon. +She liked the great room, the air of luxury, the squire's tea and the +squire's conversation. It is worth noticing that his flow of talk was +more abundant to-day than it had been for some time; whether it was +John's presence which stimulated Mr. Juxon's imagination, or whether +Mrs. Goddard had suddenly grown more interesting since John Short's +appearance it is hard to say; it is certain that Mr. Juxon talked better +than usual. + +The afternoon, however, was far spent and the party had only come to make +a short visit. Mrs. Goddard rose from her seat. + +"Nellie, child, we must be going home," she said, calling to the little +girl who was still absorbed in the book of engravings which she had taken +to the window to catch the last of the waning light. + +John started and came forward with alacrity. The vicar looked up; Nellie +reluctantly brought her book back. + +"It is very early," objected the squire. "Really, the days have no +business to be so short." + +"It would not seem like Christmas if they were long," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"It does not seem like Christmas anyhow," remarked John, enigmatically. +No one understood his observation and no one paid any attention to it. +Whereupon John's previous feeling of annoyance returned and he went to +look for his greatcoat in the dark corner where he had laid it. + +"You must not come all the way back with us," said Mrs. Goddard as they +all went out into the hall and began to put on their warm things before +the fire. "Really--it is late. Mr. Ambrose will give me his arm." + +The squire insisted however, and Stamboul, who had had a comfortable nap +by the fire, was of the same opinion as his master and plunged wildly at +the door. + +"Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ambrose?" said Mrs. Goddard, looking +rather timidly at the vicar as they stood upon the broad steps in the +sparkling evening air. She felt that she was disappointing both the +squire and John, but she had quite made up her mind. She had her own +reasons. The vicar, good man, was unconsciously a little flattered by her +choice, as with her hand resting on the sleeve of his greatcoat he led +the way down the park. The squire and John were fain to follow together, +but Nellie took her mother's hand, and Stamboul walked behind affecting +an unusual gravity. + +"You must come again when there is more daylight," said Mr. Juxon to his +companion. + +"Thank you," said John. "You are very good." He intended to relapse into +silence, but his instinct made him ashamed of seeming rude. "You have a +magnificent library," he added presently in a rather cold tone. + +"You have been used to much better ones in Cambridge," said the squire, +modestly. + +"Do you know Cambridge well, Mr. Juxon?" + +"Very well. I am a Cambridge man, myself." + +"Indeed?" exclaimed John, immediately discovering that the squire was not +so bad as he had thought. "Indeed! I had no idea. Mr. Ambrose never told +me that." + +"I am not sure that he is aware of it," said Mr. Juxon quietly. "The +subject never happened to come up." + +"How odd!" remarked John, who could not conceive of associating with a +man for any length of time without asking at what University he had +been. + +"I don't know," answered Mr. Juxon. "There are lots of other things to +talk about." + +"Oh--of course," said John, in a tone which did not express conviction. + +Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard walked briskly in front; so +briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say, +in order to keep up with them. + +"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, as they turned a +bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and +red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just +above the fading glow. + +"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you +see the new moon!" + +Mrs. Goddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little +closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether +there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps +Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the +subject. + +"How do you like our John Short?" he asked. + +"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. Goddard. "He is so fresh and young." + +"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like +what you fancied he would be?" + +"Well no--not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always +thought he would be rather Byronic--the poetical type, if you know what +I mean." + +"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of +profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw." + +"Oh yes--I daresay," replied Mrs. Goddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure +he must be very clever." + +So they chatted quietly as they walked down the park. But the squire and +John did not make progress in their conversation, and by the time they +reached the gate they had yielded to an awkward silence. They had both +been annoyed because Mrs. Goddard had taken the vicar's arm instead of +choosing one of themselves, but the joint sense of disappointment did not +constitute a common bond of interest. Either one would have suffered +anything rather than mention Mrs. Goddard to the other in the course of +the walk. And yet Mr. Juxon might have been John's father. At the gate of +the cottage they separated. The squire said he would turn back. Mrs. +Goddard had reached her destination. John and the vicar would return to +the vicarage. John tried to linger a moment, to get a word with Mrs. +Goddard. He was so persistent that she let him follow her through the +wicket gate and then turned quickly. + +"What is it?" she asked, rather suddenly, holding out her hand to say +good-bye. + +"Oh, nothing," answered John. "That is--would you like to see one of +those--those little odes of mine?" + +"Yes, certainly, if you like," she answered frankly, and then laughed. +"Of course I would. Good-night." + +He turned and fled. The vicar was waiting for him, and eyed him rather +curiously as he came back. Mr. Juxon was standing in the middle of the +road, making Stamboul jump over his stick, backwards and forwards. + +"Good-night," he said, pausing in his occupation. The vicar and John +turned away and walked homewards. Before they turned the corner towards +the village John instinctively looked back. Mr. Juxon was still making +Stamboul jump the stick before the cottage, but as far as he could see in +the dusk, Mrs. Goddard and Nellie had disappeared within. John felt that +he was very unhappy. + +"Mr. Ambrose," he began. Then he stopped and hesitated. "Mr. Ambrose," he +continued at last, "you never told me half the news of Billingsfield in +your letters." + +"You mean about Mrs. Goddard? Well--no--I did not think it would interest +you very much." + +"She is a very interesting person," said John. He could have added that +if he had known she was in Billingsfield he would have made a great +sacrifice in order to come down for a day to make her acquaintance. But +he did not say it. + +"She is a great addition," said the vicar. + +"Oh--very great, I should think." + +Christmas eve was passed at the vicarage in preparation for the morrow. +Mrs. Ambrose was very active in binding holly wherever it was possible to +put it. The mince-pies were tasted and pronounced a success, and old +Reynolds was despatched to the cottage with a small basket containing a +certain number of them as a present to Mrs. Goddard. An emissary appeared +from the Hall with a variety of articles which the squire begged to +contribute towards the vicar's Christmas dinner; among others a haunch of +venison which Mrs. Ambrose pronounced to be in the best condition. The +vicar retorted by sending to the Hall a magnificent Cottenham cheese +which, as a former Fellow of Trinity, he had succeeded in obtaining. +Moreover Mr. Ambrose himself descended to the cellar and brought up +several bottles of Audit ale which he declared must be allowed to stand +some time in the pantry in order to bring out the flavour and to be +thoroughly settled. John gave his assistance wherever it was needed and +enjoyed vastly the old-fashioned preparations for Christmas day. It was +long since the season had brought him such rejoicing and he intended to +rejoice with a good will towards men and especially towards the Ambroses. +After dinner the whole party, consisting of three highly efficient +persons and old Reynolds, adjourned to the church to complete the +decorations for the morrow. + +The church of Billingsfield, known as St. Mary's, was quite large enough +to contain twice the entire population of the parish. It was built upon a +part of the foundations of an ancient abbey, and the vicar was very proud +of the monument of a crusading Earl of Oxford which he had caused to be +placed in the chancel, it having been discovered in the old chancel of +the abbey in the park, far beyond the present limits of the church. The +tower was the highest in the neighbourhood. The whole building was of +gray rubble, irregular stones set together with a crumbling cement, and +presented an appearance which, if not architecturally imposing, was at +least sufficiently venerable. At the present time the aisles were full of +heaped-up holly and wreaths; a few lamps and a considerable number of +tallow candles shed a rather feeble light amongst the pillars; a crowd of +school children, not yet washed for the morrow, were busy under the +directions of the schoolmistress in decorating the chancel; Mr. Thomas +Reid the conservative sexton was at the top of a tall ladder, presumably +using doubtful language to himself as every third nail he tried to drive +into the crevices of the stone "crooked hisself and larfed at him," as he +expressed it; the organ was playing and a dozen small boys with three or +four men were industriously practising the anthem "Arise, Shine," +producing strains which if not calculated altogether to elevate the heart +by their harmony, would certainly have caused the hair of a sensitive +musician to rise on end; three or four of the oldest inhabitants were +leaning on their sticks in the neighbourhood of the great stove in the +middle aisle, warming themselves and grumbling that "times warn't as they +used to be;" Mr. Abraham Boosey was noisily declaring that he had +"cartlods more o' thim greens" to come, and Muggins, who had had some +beer, was stumbling cheerfully against the pews in his efforts to bring a +huge load of fir branches to the foot of Mr. Thomas Reid's long ladder. +It was a thorough Christmas scene and John Short's heart warmed as he +came back suddenly to the things which for three years had been so +familiar to him and which he had so much missed in his solitude at +Cambridge. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose set to work and John followed their +example. Even the prickly holly leaves were pleasant to touch and there +was a homely joy in the fir branches dripping with half melted snow. + +Before they had been at work very long, John was aware of a little +figure, muffled in furs and standing beside him. He looked up and saw +little Nellie's lovely face and long brown curls. + +"Can't I help you, Mr. Short?" she asked timidly. "I like to help, and +they won't let me." + +"Who are 'they'?" asked John kindly, but looking about for the figure of +Nellie's mother. + +"The schoolmistress and Mrs. Ambrose. They said I should dirty my frock." + +"Well," said John, doubtfully, "I don't know. Perhaps you would. But you +might hold the string for me--that won't hurt your clothes, you know." + +"There are more greens this year," remarked Nellie, sitting down upon the +end of the choir bench where John was at work and taking the ball of +string in her hand. "Mr. Juxon has sent a lot from the park." + +"He seems to be always sending things," said John, who had no reason +whatever for saying so, except that the squire had sent a hamper to the +vicarage. "Did he stay long before dinner?" he added, in the tone people +adopt when they hope to make children talk. + +"Stay long where?" asked Nellie innocently. + +"Oh, I thought he went into your house after we left you," answered John. + +"Oh no--he did not come in," said Nellie. John continued to work in +silence. At some distance from where he was, Mrs. Goddard was talking to +Mrs. Ambrose. He could see her graceful figure, but he could hardly +distinguish her features in the gloom of the dimly-lighted church. He +longed to leave Nellie and to go and speak to her, but an undefined +feeling of hurt pride prevented him. He would not forgive her for having +taken the vicar's arm in coming home through the park; so he stayed where +he was, pricking his fingers with the holly and rather impatiently +pulling the string off the ball which Nellie held. If Mrs. Goddard wanted +to speak to him, she might come of her own accord, he thought, for he +felt that he had behaved foolishly in asking if she wished to see his +odes. Somehow, when he thought about it, the odes did not seem so good +now as they had seemed that afternoon. + +Mrs. Goddard had not seen him at first, and for some time she remained in +consultation with Mrs. Ambrose. At last she turned and looking for Nellie +saw that she was seated beside John; to his great delight she came +towards him. She looked more lovely than ever, he thought; the dark fur +about her throat set off her delicate, sad face like a frame. + +"Oh--are you here, too, Mr. Short?" she said. + +"Hard at work, as you see," answered John. "Are you going to help, Mrs. +Goddard? Won't you help me?" + +"I wanted to," said Nellie, appealing to her mother, "but they would not +let me, so I can only hold the string." + +"Well, dear--we will see if we can help Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard +good-naturedly, and she sat down upon the choir bench. + +John never forgot that delightful Christmas Eve. For nearly two hours he +never left Mrs. Goddard's side, asking her advice about every branch and +bit of holly and following out to the letter her most minute suggestions. +He forgot all about the squire and about the walk back from the park, in +the delight of having Mrs. Goddard to himself. He pushed the school +children about and spoke roughly to old Reynolds if her commands were not +instantly executed; he felt in the little crowd of village people that he +was her natural protector, and he wished he might never have anything in +the world to do save to decorate a church in her company. He grew more +and more confidential and when the work was all done he felt that he had +thoroughly established himself in her good graces and went home to dream +of the happiest day he had ever spent. The organ ceased playing, the +little choir dispersed, the school children were sent home, Mr. Abraham +Boosey retired to the bar of the Duke's Head, Muggins tenderly embraced +every tombstone he met on his way through the churchyard, the +"gentlefolk" followed Reynolds' lantern towards the vicarage, and Mr. +Thomas Reid, the conservative and melancholic sexton, put out the lights +and locked the church doors, muttering a sour laudation of more primitive +times, when "the gentlefolk minded their business." + +For the second time that day, John and Mr. Ambrose walked as far as the +cottage, to see Mrs. Goddard to her home. When they parted from her and +Nellie, John was careful not to say anything more about the odes, a +subject to which Mrs. Goddard had not referred in the course of the +evening. John thanked her rather effusively for her help--he could never +have got through those choir benches without her, he said; and the vicar +added that he was very much obliged, too, and surreptitiously conveyed +to Mrs. Goddard's hand a small package intended for Miss Nellie's +Christmas stocking, from him and his wife, and which he had forgotten to +give earlier. Nellie was destined to have a fuller stocking than usual +this year, for the squire had remembered her as well as Mr. Ambrose. + +John went to bed in his old room at the vicarage protesting that he had +enjoyed the first day of his holiday immensely. As he blew out the light, +he thought suddenly how often in that very room he had gone to bed +dreaming about the lady in black and composing verses to her, till +somehow the Greek terminations would get mixed up with the Latin roots, +the quantities all seemed to change places, and he used to fall asleep +with a delicious half romantic sense of happiness always unfulfilled yet +always present. And now at last it began to be fulfilled in earnest; he +had met the lady in black at last, had spent nearly half a day in her +company and was more persuaded than ever that she was really and truly +his ideal. He did not go to sleep so soon as in the old days, and he was +sorry to go to sleep at all; he wanted to enjoy all his delicious +recollections of that afternoon before he slept and, as he recapitulated +the events which had befallen him and recalled each expression of the +face that had charmed him and every intonation of the charmer's voice, he +felt that he had never been really happy before, that no amount of +success at Cambridge could give him half the delight he had +experienced during one hour in the old Billingsfield church, and that +altogether life anywhere else was not worth living. To-morrow he would +see Mrs. Goddard again, and the next day and the day after that and +then--"bother the future!" ejaculated John, and went to sleep. + +He awoke early, roused by the loud clanging of the Christmas bells, and +looking out he saw that the day was fine and cold and bright as Christmas +day should be, and generally is. The hoar frost was frozen into fantastic +shapes upon his little window, the snow was clinging to the yew branches +outside and the robins were hopping and chirping over the thin crust of +frozen snow that just covered the ground. The road was hard and brown as +on the previous day, and the ice in the park would probably bear. Perhaps +Mrs. Goddard would skate in the afternoon between the services, but +then--Juxon would be there. "Never mind Juxon," quoth John to himself, +"it is Christmas day!" + +At the vicarage and elsewhere, all over the land, those things were done +which delight the heart of Englishmen at the merry season. Everybody +shook hands with everybody else, everybody cried "Merry Christmas!" to +his neighbour in the street, with an intonation as though he were saying +something startlingly new and brilliant which had never been said before. +Every labourer who had a new smock-frock put it on, and those who had +none had at least a bit of new red worsted comforter about their throats +and began the day by standing at their doors in the cold morning, smoking +a "ha'p'orth o' shag" in a new clay pipe, greeting each other across the +village street. Muggins, who had spent a portion of the night in +exchanging affectionate Christmas wishes with the tombstones in the +churchyard, appeared fresh and ruddy at an early hour, clad in the long +black coat and tall hat which he was accustomed to wear when he drove Mr. +Boosey's fly on great festivals. Most of the cottages in the single +street sported a bit of holly in their windows, and altogether the +appearance of Billingsfield was singularly festive and mirthful. At +precisely ten minutes to eleven the vicar and Mrs. Ambrose, accompanied +by John, issued from the vicarage and went across the road by the private +path to the church. As they entered the porch Mr. Reid, who stood +solemnly tolling the small bell, popularly nicknamed the "Ting-tang," +and of which the single rope passed down close to the south door, +vouchsafed John a sour smile of recognition. John felt as though he had +come home. Mrs. Goddard and Nellie appeared a moment afterwards and took +their seats in the pew traditionally belonging to the cottage, behind +that of the squire who was always early, and the sight of whose smoothly +brushed hair and brown beard was a constant source of satisfaction to +Mrs. Ambrose. John and Mrs. Ambrose sat on the opposite side of the +aisle, but John's eyes strayed very frequently towards Mrs. Goddard; so +frequently indeed that she noticed it and leaned far back in her seat to +avoid his glance. Whereupon John blushed and felt that the vicar, who was +reading the Second Lesson, had probably noticed his distraction. It was +hard to realise that two years and a half had passed since he had sat in +that same pew; perhaps, however, the presence of Mrs. Goddard helped him +to understand the lapse of time. But for her it would have been very +hard; for the vicar's voice sounded precisely as it used to sound; Mrs. +Ambrose had not lost her habit of removing one glove and putting it into +her prayer book as a mark while she found the hymn in the accompanying +volume; the bright decorations looked as they looked years ago above the +organ and round the chancel; from far down the church, just before the +sermon, came the old accustomed sound of small boys shuffling their +hobnailed shoes upon the stone floor and the audible guttural whisper of +the churchwarden admonishing them to "mind the stick;" the stained-glass +windows admitted the same pleasant light as of yore--all was unchanged. +But Mrs. Goddard and Nellie occupied the cottage pew, and their presence +alone was sufficient to mark to John the fact that he was now a man. + +The service was sympathetic to John Short. He liked the simplicity of it, +even the rough singing of the choir, as compared with the solemn and +magnificent musical services of Trinity College Chapel. But it seemed +very long before it was all over and he was waiting for Mrs. Goddard +outside the church door. + +There were more greetings, more "Merry Christmas" and "Many happy +returns." Mrs. Goddard looked more charming than ever and was quite as +cordial as on the previous evening. + +"How much better it all looked this morning by daylight," she said. + +"I think it looked very pretty last night," answered John. "There is +nothing so delightful as Christmas decorations, is there?" + +"Perhaps you will come down next year and help us again?" suggested Mrs. +Goddard. + +"Yes--well, I might come at Easter, for that matter," answered the young +man, who after finding it impossible to visit Billingsfield during two +years and a half, now saw no difficulty whatever in the way of making two +visits in the course of six months. "Do you still decorate at Easter?" he +asked. + +"Oh yes--do you think you can come?" she said pleasantly. "I thought you +were to be very busy just then." + +"Yes, that is true," answered John. "But of course I could come, you +know, if it were necessary." + +"Hardly exactly necessary--" Mrs. Goddard laughed. + +"The doctor told me some relaxation was absolutely indispensable for my +health," said John rather sententiously. + +"You don't really look very ill--are you?" She seemed incredulous. + +"Oh no, of course not--only a little overworked sometimes." + +"In that case I have no doubt it would do you good," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"Do you really think so?" asked John, hopefully. + +"Oh--that is a matter for your doctor to decide. I cannot possibly tell," +she answered. + +"I think you would make a very good doctor, Mrs. Goddard," said John +venturing on a bolder flight. + +"Really--I never thought of trying it," she replied with a little laugh. +"Good morning, Mr. Ambrose. Nellie wants to thank you for your beautiful +present. It was really too good of you." + +The vicar came out of the vestry and joined the group in the path. Mrs. +Ambrose, who had been asking Tom Judd's wife about her baby, also came +up, and the squire, who had been presenting Mr. Reid with ten shillings +for his Christmas box and who looked singularly bereaved without the +faithful Stamboul at his heels, sauntered up and began congratulating +everybody. In the distance the last of the congregation, chiefly the old +women and cripples who could not keep up with the rest, hobbled away +through the white gate of the churchyard. + +It had been previously agreed that if the ice would bear there should be +skating in the afternoon and the squire was anxious to inform the party +that the pond was in excellent condition. + +"As black as your hat," he said cheerfully. "Stamboul and I have been +sliding all over it, so of course it would bear an ox. It did not crack +anywhere." + +"Do you skate, Mrs. Goddard?" asked John. + +"Not very well--not nearly so well as Nellie. But I am very fond of it." + +"Will you let me push you about in a chair, then? It is capital fun." + +"Very good fun for me, no doubt," answered Mrs. Goddard, laughing. + +"I would rather do it than anything else," said John in a tone of +conviction. "It is splendid exercise, pushing people about in chairs." + +"So it is," said the squire, heartily. "We will take turns, Mr. Short." +The suggestion did not meet with any enthusiastic response from John, who +wished Mr. Juxon were not able to skate. + +Poor John, he had but one idea, which consisted simply in getting Mrs. +Goddard to himself as often and as long as possible. Unfortunately this +idea did not coincide with Mr. Juxon's views. Mr. Juxon was an older, +slower and calmer man than the enthusiastic young scholar, and though +very far from obtruding his views or making any assertion of his rights, +was equally far from forgetting them. He was a man more of actions than +words. He had been in the habit of monopolising Mrs. Goddard's society +for months and he had no intention of relinquishing his claims, even for +the charitable purpose of allowing a poor student to enjoy his Christmas +holiday and bit of romance undisturbed. If John had presented himself as +a boy, it might have been different; but John emphatically considered +himself a man, and the squire was quite willing to treat him as such, +since he desired it. That is to say he would not permit him to "cut him +out" as he would have expressed it. The result of the position in which +John and Mr. Juxon soon found themselves was to be expected. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +John did not sleep so peacefully nor dream so happily that night as on +the night before. The course of true love had not run smooth that +afternoon. The squire had insisted upon having his share of the lovely +Mrs. Goddard's society and she herself had not seemed greatly disturbed +at a temporary separation from John. The latter amused her for a little +while; the former held the position of a friend whose conversation she +liked better than that of other people. John was disappointed and thought +of going back to Cambridge the next day. So strong, indeed, was his +sudden desire to leave Billingsfield without finishing his visit, that +before going to bed he had packed some of his belongings into his small +portmanteau; the tears almost stood in his eyes as he busied himself +about his room and he muttered certain formulae of self-accusation as he +collected his things, saying over and over in his heart--"What a fool I +am! Why should she care for me? What am I that she should care for me?" +etc. etc. Then he opened his window and looked at the bright stars which +shone out over the old yew tree; but it was exceedingly cold, and so he +shut it again and went to bed, feeling very uncomfortable and unhappy. + +But when he awoke in the morning he looked at his half-packed portmanteau +and laughed, and instead of saying "What a fool I am!" he said "What a +fool I was!"--which is generally and in most conditions of human affairs +a much wiser thing to say. Then he carefully took everything out of the +portmanteau again and replaced things as they had lain before in his +room, lest perchance Susan, the housemaid, should detect what had passed +through his mind on the previous evening and should tell Mrs. Ambrose. +And from all this it appears that John was exceedingly young, as indeed +he was, in spite of his being nearly one and twenty years of age. But +doubtless if men were willing to confess their disappointments and +foolish, impetuous resolutions, many would be found who have done +likewise, being in years much older than John Short. Unfortunately for +human nature most men would rather confess to positive wrong-doing than +to any such youthful follies as these, while they are young; and when +they are old they would rather be thought young and foolish than confess +the evil deeds they have actually done. + +John, however, did not moralise upon his situation. The weather was again +fine and as he dressed his spirits rose. He became magnanimous and +resolved to forget yesterday and make the most of today. He would see +Mrs. Goddard of course; perhaps he would show her a little coldness at +first, giving her to understand that she had not treated him well on the +previous afternoon; then he would interest her by his talk--he would +repeat to her one of those unlucky odes and translate it for her benefit, +making use of the freedom he would thus get in order to make her an +unlimited number of graceful compliments. Perhaps, too, he ought to pay +more attention to Nellie, if he wished to conciliate her mother. Women, +he reflected, have such strange prejudices! + +He wondered whether it would be proper for him to call upon Mrs. Goddard. +He was not quite sure about it, and he was rather ashamed of having so +little knowledge of the world; but he believed that in Billingsfield he +might run the risk. There had been talk of skating again that morning, +and so, about ten o'clock, John told Mr. Ambrose he would go for a short +walk and then join them all at the pond in the park. The project seemed +good, and he put it into execution. As he walked up the frozen road, he +industriously repeated in his mind the Greek verses he was going to +translate to Mrs. Goddard; he had no copy of them but his memory was very +good. He met half a dozen labourers, strolling about with their pipes +until it was time to go and have a pint of beer, as is their manner upon +holidays; they touched their hats to him, remembering his face well, and +he smiled happily at the rough fellows, contrasting his situation with +theirs, who from the misfortune of social prejudice were not permitted to +go and call upon Mrs. Goddard. His heart beat rather fast as he went up +to the door of the cottage, and for one unpleasant moment he again +doubted whether it was proper for him to make such an early visit. But +being bent on romantic adventure he rang boldly and inquired for Mrs. +Goddard. + +She was surprised to see John at that hour and alone; but it did not +enter her head to refuse him admittance. Indeed as he stood in the little +passage he heard the words which passed between her and Martha. + +"What is it, Martha?" + +"It's a young gentleman, mam. I rather think, mam, it's the young +gentleman that's stopping at the vicarage." + +"Oh--ask him to come in." + +"In 'ere, mam?" + +"No--into the sitting-room," said Mrs. Goddard, who was busy in the +dining-room. + +John was accordingly ushered in and told to wait a minute; which he did, +surveying with surprise the beautiful pictures, the rich looking +furniture and the valuable objects that lay about upon the tables. He +experienced a thrill of pleasure, for he felt sure that Mrs. Goddard +possessed another qualification which he had unconsciously attributed to +her--that of being accustomed to a certain kind of luxury, which in +John's mind was mysteriously connected with his romance. It is one of the +most undefinable of the many indefinite feelings to which young men in +love are subject, especially young men who have been, or are, very poor. +They like to connect ideas of wealth and comfort, even of a luxurious +existence, with the object of their affections. They desire the world of +love to be new to them, and in order to be wholly new in their +experience, it must be rich. The feeling is not so wholly unworthy as it +might seem; they instinctively place their love upon a pedestal and +require its surroundings to be of a better kind than such as they have +been accustomed to in their own lives. King Cophetua, being a king, could +afford to love the beggar maid, and a very old song sings of a "lady who +loved a swine," but the names of the poor young men who have loved above +their fortune and station are innumerable as the swallows in spring. John +saw that Mrs. Goddard was much richer than he had ever been, and without +the smallest second thought was pleased. In a few moments she entered the +room. John had his speech ready. + +"I thought, if you were going to skate, I would call and ask leave to go +with you," he said glibly, as she gave him her hand. + +"Oh--thanks. But is not it rather early?" + +"It is twenty minutes past ten," said John, looking at the clock. + +"Well, let us get warm before starting," said Mrs. Goddard, sitting down +by the fire. "It is so cold this morning." + +John thought she was lovely to look at as she sat there, warming her +hands and shielding her face from the flame with them at the same time. +She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, but said nothing. She was still +a little surprised to see him and wondered whether he himself had +anything to say. + +"Yes," said John, "it is very cold--traditional Christmas weather. Could +not be finer, in fact, could it?" + +"No--it could not be finer," echoed Mrs. Goddard, suppressing a smile. +Then as though to help him out of his embarrassment by giving an impulse +to the conversation, she added, "By the bye, Mr. Short, while we are +warming ourselves why do not you let me hear one of your odes?" + +She meant it kindly, thinking it would give him pleasure, as indeed it +did. John's heart leaped and he blushed all over his face with delight. +Mrs. Goddard was not quite sure whether she had done right, but she +attributed his evident satisfaction to his vanity as a scholar. + +"Certainly," he said with alacrity, "if you would like to hear it. Would +you care to hear me repeat the Greek first?" + +"Oh, of all things. I do not think I have ever heard Greek." + +John cleared his throat and began, glancing at his hostess rather +nervously from time to time. But his memory never failed him, and he went +on to the end without a break or hesitation. + +"How do you think it sounds?" he asked timidly when he had finished. + +"It sounds very funny," said Mrs. Goddard. "I had no idea Greek sounded +like that--but it has a pleasant rhythm." + +"That is the thing," said John, enthusiastically. "I see you really +appreciate it. Of course nobody knows how the ancients pronounced Greek, +and if one pronounced it as the moderns do, it would sound all wrong--but +the rhythm is the thing, you know. It is impossible to get over that." + +Mrs. Goddard was not positively sure what he meant by "getting over the +rhythm;" possibly John himself could not have defined his meaning very +clearly. But his cheeks glowed and he was very much pleased. + +"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Goddard confidently. "But what does it all +mean, Mr. Short?" + +"Would you really like to know?" asked John in fresh embarrassment. He +suddenly realised how wonderfully delightful it was to be repeating his +own poetry to the woman for whom it was written. + +"Indeed yes--what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in +Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?" + +"Yes--you will promise not to be offended?" + +"Of course," said Mrs. Goddard; then blushing a little she added, "it is +quite--I mean--quite the sort of thing, is not it?" + +"Oh quite," said John, blushing too, but looking grave for a moment. Then +he repeated the English translation of the verses which, as they were +certainly not so good as the original, may be omitted here. They set +forth that in the vault of the world's night a new star had appeared +which men had not yet named, nor would be likely to name until the power +of human speech should be considerably increased, and the verses dwelt +upon the theme, turning it and revolving it in several ways, finally +declaring that the far-darting sun must look out for his interests unless +he meant to be outshone by the new star. Translated into English there +was nothing very remarkable about the performance though the original +Greek ode was undoubtedly very good of its kind. But Mrs. Goddard was +determined to be pleased. + +"I think it is charming," she said, when John had reached the end and +paused for her criticism. + +"The Greek is very much better," said John doubtfully. "I cannot write +English verses--they seem to me so much harder." + +"I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard. "But did you really write that +when--" she stopped not knowing exactly how to express herself. But +John had his answer ready. + +"Oh, I wrote ever so many," he said, "and I have got them all at +Cambridge. But that is the only one I quite remember. I wrote them just +after the day when I waked up Muggins--the only time I had seen you till +now. I think I could--" + +"How funny it seems," said Mrs. Goddard, "without knowing a person, to +write verses to them! How did you manage to do it?" + +"I was going to say that I think--I am quite sure--I could write much +better things to you now." + +"Oh, that is impossible--quite absurd, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, +laughing more gaily than usual. + +"Why?" asked John, somewhat emboldened by his success. "I do not see why, +if one has an ideal, you know, one should not understand it much better +when one comes near to it." + +"Yes--but--how can I possibly be your ideal?" She felt herself so much +older than John that she thought it was out of the question to be +annoyed; so she treated him in a matter of fact way, and was really +amused at his talk. + +"I don't see why not," answered John stoutly. "You might be any man's +ideal." + +"Oh, really--" ejaculated Mrs. Goddard, somewhat startled at the force of +the sweeping compliment. To be told point-blank, even by an enthusiastic +youth of one and twenty, that one is the ideal woman, must be either very +pleasant or very startling. + +"Excuse me," she said quickly, before he could answer her, "you know of +course I am very ignorant--yes I am--but will you please tell me what is +an 'ideal'?" + +"Why--yes," said John, "it is very easy. Ideal comes from idea. Plato +meant, by the idea, the perfect model--well, do you see?" + +"Not exactly," said Mrs. Goddard. + +"It is very simple. When I, when anybody, says you are the ideal woman, +it is meant that you are the perfect model, the archetype of a woman." + +"Yes--but that is absurd," said his companion rather coldly. + +"I am sorry that it should seem absurd," said John in a persuasive tone; +"it seems very natural to me. A man thinks for a long time about +everything that most attracts him and then, on a sudden, he sees it all +before him, quite real and alive, and then he says he has realised his +ideal. But you liked the verses, Mrs. Goddard?" he added quickly, hoping +to bring back the smile that had vanished from her face. He had a strong +impression that he had been a little too familiar. Probably Mrs. Goddard +thought so too. + +"Oh yes, I think they are very nice," she answered. But the smile did not +come back. She was not displeased, but she was not pleased either; she +was wondering how far this boy would go if she would let him. John, +however, felt unpleasantly doubtful about what he had done. + +"I hope you are not displeased," he said. + +"Oh, not in the least," said she. "Shall we go to the park and skate?" + +"I am not sure that I will skate to-day," said John, foolishly. Mrs. +Goddard looked at him in unfeigned surprise. + +"Why not? I thought it was for that--" + +"Oh, of course," said John quickly. "Only it is not very amusing to skate +when Mr. Juxon is pushing you about in a chair." + +"Really--why should not he push me about, if I like it?" + +"If you like it--that is different," answered John impatiently. + +Mrs. Goddard began to think that John was very like a spoiled child, and +she resented his evident wish to monopolise her society. She left the +room to get ready for the walk, vaguely wishing that he had not come. + +"I have made a fool of myself again," said John to himself, when he was +left alone; and he suddenly wished he could get out of the house without +seeing her again. But before he had done wishing, she returned. + +"Where is Miss Nellie?" he asked gloomily, as they walked down the path. +"I hope she is coming too." + +"She went up to the pond with Mr. Juxon, just before you came." + +"Do you let her go about like that, without you?" asked John severely. + +"Why not? Really, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, glancing up at his face, +"either you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a +good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--" + +She was naturally a little timid, but John's youth and what she +considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to +protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous. + +"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are +quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest +reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal +antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me." + +"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows +nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They +were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind +that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch. + +"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he +said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom. + +"Nor I," said Mrs. Goddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back +for her to pass. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there +was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it +for themselves. Mrs. Goddard was so much amused at John's absence of mind +that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was +attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that +had darkened the horizon of his romance had passed quickly away, and once +more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life. +If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his +imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. Goddard's chair upon the +ice, he mentally ejaculated "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the +previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park +was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. Goddard did not seem to be +in a hurry. + +"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently. + +"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the +year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will +very soon be alive again." + +"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of +it." + +"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not +you?" + +"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently. +Mrs. Goddard could not resist the temptation of teazing him a little. +They had grown very intimate in forty-eight hours; it had taken six +months for Mr. Juxon to reach the point John had won in two days. + +"Are they?" she asked quietly. "Is that the reason you selected me for +the 'idea' of your ode, which you explained to me?" + +"You?" said John in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Why, you are not any +older than I am!" + +"Do you think so?" she inquired with a demure smile. "I am very much +older than you think." + +"You must be--I mean, you know, you must be older than you look." + +"Thank you," said Mrs. Goddard, still smiling, and just resting the tips +of her fingers upon his arm as she stepped across a slippery place in the +frozen road. "Yes, I am a great deal older than you." + +John would have liked very much to ask her age, but even to his youthful +and unsophisticated mind such a question seemed almost too personal. He +did not really believe that she was more than five years older than he, +and that seemed to be no difference at all. + +"I don't know," he said. "I am nearly one and twenty." + +"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Goddard, who had heard every detail concerning +John from Mr. Ambrose, again and again. "Just think," she added with a +laugh, "only one and twenty! Why when I was one and twenty I was--" she +stopped short. + +"What were you doing then?" asked John, trying not to seem too curious. + +"I was living in London," she said quietly. She half enjoyed his +disappointment. + +"Yes," he said, "I daresay. But what--well, I suppose I ought not to ask +any questions." + +"Certainly not," said she. "It is very rude to ask a lady questions about +her age." + +"I do not mean to be rude again," said John, pretending to laugh. "Have +you always been fond of skating?" he asked, fixing his eye upon a distant +tree, and trying to look unconscious. + +"No--I only learned since I came here. Besides, I skate very badly." + +"Did Mr. Juxon teach you?" asked John, still gazing into the distance. +From not looking at the path he slipped on a frozen puddle and nearly +fell. Whereat, as usual, when he did anything awkward, he blushed to the +brim of his hat. + +"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. "You will fall if you don't look +where you are going. No; Mr. Juxon was not here last year. He only came +here in the summer." + +"It seems to me that he has always been here," said John, trying to +recover his equanimity. "Then I suppose Mr. Ambrose taught you to skate?" + +"Exactly--Mr. Ambrose taught me. He skates very well." + +"So will you, with a little more practice," answered her companion in a +rather patronising tone. He intended perhaps to convey the idea that Mrs. +Goddard would improve in the exercise if she would actually skate, and +with him, instead of submitting to be pushed about in a chair by Mr. +Juxon. + +"Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard indifferently. "We shall soon be +there, now. I can hear them on the ice." + +"Too soon," said John with regret. + +"I thought you liked skating so much." + +"I like walking with you much better," he replied, and he glanced at her +face to see if his speech produced any sign of sympathy. + +"You have walked with me; now you can skate with Nellie," suggested Mrs. +Goddard. + +"You talk as though I were a child," said John, suddenly losing his +temper in a very unaccountable way. + +"Because I said you might skate with Nellie? Really, I don't see why. Mr. +Juxon is not a child, and he has been skating with her all the morning." + +"That is different," retorted John growing very red. + +"Yes--Nellie is much nearer to your age than to Mr. Juxon's," answered +Mrs. Goddard, with a calmness which made John desperate. + +"Really, Mrs. Goddard," he said stiffly, "I cannot see what that has to +do with it." + +"'The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the lady so much older +than myself has charged--' How does the quotation end, Mr. Short?" + +"'Has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither +attempt to palliate nor deny,'" said John savagely. "Quite so, Mrs. +Goddard. I shall not attempt to palliate it, nor will I venture to deny +it." + +"Then why in the world are you so angry with me?" she asked, suddenly +turning her violet eyes upon him. "I was only laughing, you know." + +"Only laughing!" repeated John. "It is more pleasant to laugh than to be +laughed at." + +"Yes--would not you allow me the pleasure then, just for once?" + +"Certainly, if you desire it. You are so extremely merry--" + +"Come, Mr. Short, we must not seem to have been quarrelling when we reach +the pond. It would be too ridiculous." + +"Everything seems to strike you in a humorous light to-day," answered +John, beginning to be pacified by her tone. + +"Do you know, you are much more interesting when you are angry," said +Mrs. Goddard. + +"And you only made me angry in order to see whether I was interesting?" + +"Perhaps--but then, I could not help it in the least." + +"I trust you are thoroughly satisfied upon the point, Mrs. Goddard? If +there is anything more that I can do to facilitate your researches in +psychology--" + +"You would help me? Even to the extent of being angry again?" She smiled +so pleasantly and frankly that John's wrath vanished. + +"It is impossible to be angry with you. I am very sorry if I seemed to +be," he answered. "A man who has the good fortune to be thrown into your +society is a fool to waste his time in being disagreeable." + +"I agree with the conclusion, at all events--that is, it is much better +to be agreeable. Is it not? Let us be friends." + +"Oh, by all means," said John. + +They walked on for some minutes in silence. John reflected that he had +witnessed a phase of Mrs. Goddard's character of which he had been very +far from suspecting the existence. He had not hitherto imagined her to be +a woman of quick temper or sharp speech. His idea of her was formed +chiefly upon her appearance. Her sad face, with its pathetic expression, +suggested a melancholy humour delighting in subdued and tranquil +thoughts, inclined naturally to the romantic view, or to what in the eyes +of youths of twenty appears to be the romantic view of life. He had +suddenly found her answering him with a sharpness which, while it roused +his wits, startled his sensibilities. But he was flattered as well. His +instinct and his observation of Mrs. Goddard when in the society of +others led him to believe that with Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, or even with +Mr. Juxon, she was not in the habit of talking as she talked with him. He +was therefore inwardly pleased, so soon as his passing annoyance had +subsided, to feel that she made a difference between him and others. + +It was quite true that she made a distinction, though she did so almost +unconsciously. It was perfectly natural, too. She was young in heart, in +spite of her thirty years and her troubles; she had an elastic +temperament; to a physiognomist her face would have shown a delicate +sensitiveness to impressions rather than any inborn tendency to sadness. +In spite of everything she was still young, and for two years and a half +she had been in the society of persons much older than herself, persons +she respected and regarded as friends, but persons in whom her youth +found no sympathy. It was natural, therefore, that when time to some +extent had healed the wound she had suffered and she suddenly found +herself in the society of a young and enthusiastic man, something of the +enforced soberness of her manner should unbend, showing her character in +a new light. She herself enjoyed the change, hardly knowing why; she +enjoyed a little passage of arms with John, and it amused her more than +she could have expected to be young again, to annoy him, to break the +peace and heal it again in five minutes. But what happened entirely +failed to amuse the squire, who did not regard such diversions as +harmless; and moreover she was far from expecting the effect which her +treatment of John Short produced upon his scholarly but enthusiastic +temper. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +The squire had remarked that John Short seemed to have a peculiar temper, +and Mrs. Goddard had observed the same thing. What has gone before +sufficiently explains the change in John's manner, and the difference in +his behaviour was plainly apparent even to Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose. The +vicar indeed was wise enough to see that John was very much attracted by +Mrs. Goddard, but he was also wise enough to say nothing about it. His +wife, however, who had witnessed no love-making for nearly thirty years, +except the courtship of the young physician who had married her daughter, +attributed John's demeanour to no such disturbing cause. He was +overworked, she said; he was therefore irritable; he had of course never +taken that excellent homoeopathic remedy, highly diluted aconite, since +he had left the vicarage; the consequence was that he was subject to +nervous headache--she only hoped he would not be taken ill on the eve of +the examination for honours. She hoped, too, that he would prolong his +holiday to the very last moment, for the country air and the rest he +enjoyed were sure to do him so much good. With regard, to the extension +of John's visit, the vicar thought differently, although he held his +peace. There were many reasons why John should not become attached to +Mrs. Goddard both for her sake and his own, and if he staid long, the +vicar felt quite sure that he would fall in love with her. She was +dangerously pretty, she was much older than John--which in the case of +very young men constitutes an additional probability--she evidently took +an innocent pleasure in his society, and altogether such a complication +as was likely to ensue was highly undesirable. Therefore, when Mrs. +Ambrose pressed John to stay longer than he had intended, the vicar not +only gave him no encouragement, but spoke gravely of the near approach of +the contest for honours, of the necessity of concentrating every force +for the coming struggle, and expressed at the same time the firm +conviction that, if John did his best, he ought to be the senior classic +in the year. + +Even Mrs. Goddard urged him to go. Of course he asked her advice. He +would not have lost that opportunity of making her speak of himself, nor +of gauging the exact extent of the interest he hoped she felt in him. + +It was two or three days after the long conversation he had enjoyed with +her. In that time they had met often and John's admiration for her, +strengthened by his own romantic desire to be really in love, had begun +to assume proportions which startled Mrs. Goddard and annoyed Mr. Juxon. +The latter felt that the boy was in his way; whenever he wanted to see +Mrs. Goddard, John was at her side, talking eagerly and contesting his +position against the squire with a fierceness which in an older and wiser +man would have been in the worst possible taste. Even as it was, Mr. +Juxon looked considerably annoyed as he stood by, smoothing his smooth +hair from time to time with his large white hand and feeling that even at +his age, and with his experience, a man might sometimes cut a poor +figure. + +On the particular occasion when the relations between John and the squire +became an object of comment to Mrs. Ambrose, the whole party were +assembled at Mrs. Goddard's cottage. She had invited everybody to tea, a +meal which in her little household represented a compromise between her +appetite and Nellie's. She had felt that in the small festivities of the +Billingsfield Christmas season she was called upon to do her share with +the rest and, being a simple woman, she took her part simply, and did not +dignify the entertainment of her four friends by calling it a dinner. The +occasion was none the less hospitable, for she gave both time and thought +to her preparations. Especially she had considered the question of +precedence; it was doubtful, she thought, whether the squire or the vicar +should sit upon her right hand. The squire, as being lord of the manor, +represented the powers temporal, the vicar on the other hand represented +the church, which on ordinary occasions takes precedence of the lay +faculty. She had at last privately consulted Mr. Juxon, in whom she had +the greatest confidence, asking him frankly which she should do, and Mr. +Juxon had unhesitatingly yielded the post of honour to the vicar, adding +to enforce his opinion the very plausible argument that if he, the +squire, took Mrs. Goddard in to tea, the vicar would have to give his arm +either to little Nellie or to his own wife. Mrs. Goddard was convinced +and the affair was a complete success. + +John felt that he could not complain of his position, but as he was +separated from the object of his admiration during the whole meal, he +resolved to indemnify himself for his sufferings by monopolising her +conversation during the rest of the evening. The squire on the other +hand, who had been obliged to talk to Mrs. Ambrose during most of the +time while they were at table, and who, moreover, was beginning to feel +that he had seen almost enough of John Short, determined to give the +young man a lesson in the art of interesting women in general and Mrs. +Goddard in particular. She, indeed, would not have been a woman at all +had she not understood the two men and their intentions. After tea the +party congregated round the fire in the little drawing-room, standing in +a circle, of which their hostess formed the centre. Mr. Juxon and John, +anticipating that Mrs. Goddard must ultimately sit upon one side or other +of the fireplace had at first chosen opposite sides, each hoping that she +would take the chair nearest to himself. But Mrs. Goddard remained +standing an unreasonably long time, for the very reason that she did not +choose to sit beside either of them. Seeing this the squire, who had +perhaps a greater experience than his adversary in this kind of strategic +warfare, left his place and put himself on the same side as John. He +argued that Mrs. Goddard would probably then choose the opposite side, +whereas John who was younger would think she would come towards the two +where they stood; John would consequently lose time, Mr. Juxon would +cross again and install himself by her side while his enemy was +hesitating. + +While these moves and counter-moves were proceeding, the conversation was +general. The vicar was for the hundredth time admiring the Andrea del +Sarto over the chimney-piece and his wife was explaining her general +objections to the representation of sacred subjects upon canvas, while +Mrs. Goddard answered each in turn and endeavoured to disagree with +neither. What the squire had foreseen when he made his last move, +however, actually took place at last. Mrs. Goddard established herself +upon the side opposite the two men. Mr. Juxon crossed rapidly to where +she was seated, and Mrs. Ambrose, who had turned with the intention of +speaking to the squire, found herself confronted by John. He saw that he +had been worsted by his foe and immediately lost his temper; but being +brought face to face with Mrs. Ambrose was obliged to control it as he +might. That excellent lady beamed upon him with a maternal smile of the +kind which is peculiarly irritating to young men. He struggled to get +away however, glancing over Mrs. Ambrose's shoulder at the squire and +longing to be "at him" as he would have expressed it. But the squire was +not to be got at so easily, for the vicar's wife was of a fine presence +and covered much ground. John involuntarily thought of the dyke before +Troy, of Hector and his heroes attempting to storm it and of the Ajaces +and Sarpedon defending it and glaring down from above. He could +appreciate Hector's feelings--Mrs. Ambrose was very like the dyke. + +The squire smiled serenely and smoothed his hair as he talked to Mrs. +Goddard and she herself looked by no means discontented, thereby adding, +as it were, an insult to the injury done to John. + +"I shall always envy you the cottage," the squire was saying. "I have not +a single room in the Hall that is half so cheery in the evening." + +"I shall never forget my terror when we first met," answered Mrs. +Goddard, "do you remember? You frightened me by saying you would like to +live here. I thought you meant it." + +"You must have thought I was the most unmannerly of barbarians." + +"Instead of being the best of landlords," added Mrs. Goddard with a +grateful smile. + +"I hardly know whether I am that," said Mr. Juxon, settling himself in +his chair. "But I believe I am by nature an exceedingly comfortable man, +and I never fail to consult the interests of my comfort." + +"And of mine. Think of all you have done to improve this place. I can +never thank you enough. I suppose one always feels particularly grateful +at Christmas time--does not one?" + +"One has more to be grateful for, it seems to me--in our climate, too. +People in southern countries never really know what comfort means, +because nature never makes them thoroughly uncomfortable. Only a man who +is freezing can appreciate a good fire." + +"I suppose you have been a good deal in such places," suggested Mrs. +Goddard, vaguely. + +"Oh yes--everywhere," answered the squire with equal indefiniteness. "By +the bye, talking of travelling, when is our young friend going away?" +There was not a shade of ill-humour in the question. + +"The day after New Year's--I believe." + +"He has had a very pleasant visit." + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Goddard, "I hope it will do him a great deal of +good." + +"Why? Was he ill? Ah--I remember, they said he had worked too hard. It is +a great mistake to work too hard, especially when one is very young." + +"He is very young, is not he?" remarked Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, +remembering the many conversations she had had with him. + +"Very. Did it ever strike you that--well, that he was losing his head a +little?" + +"No," answered his companion innocently. "What about?" + +"Oh, nothing. Only he has rather a peculiar temper. He is perpetually +getting very angry with no ostensible reason--and then he glares at one +like an angry cat." + +"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, "he might hear you." + +"Do him good," said the squire cheerfully. + +"Oh, no! It would hurt his feelings dreadfully. How can you be so +unkind?" + +"He is a very good boy, you know. Really, I believe he is. Only he is +inclined to be rather too unreasonable; I should think he might be +satisfied." + +"Satisfied with what?" inquired Mrs. Goddard, who did not wish to +understand. + +"With the way you have treated him," returned the squire bluntly. "You +have been wonderfully good to him." + +"Have I?" The faint colour rose to her cheek. "I don't know--poor fellow! +I daresay his life at Cambridge is very dull." + +"Yes. Entirely devoid of that species of amusement which he has enjoyed +so abundantly in Billingsfield. It is not every undergraduate who has a +chance to talk to you for a week at a time." + +Mr. Juxon made the remark very calmly, without seeming to be in the least +annoyed. He was much too wise a man to appear to be displeased at Mrs. +Goddard's treatment of John. Moreover, he felt that on the present +occasion, at least, John had been summarily worsted; it was his turn to +be magnanimous. + +"If you are going to make compliments, I will go away," said Mrs. +Goddard. + +"I? I never made a compliment in my life," replied the squire +complacently. "Do you think it is a compliment to tell you that Mr. Short +probably enjoys your conversation much more than the study of Greek +roots?" + +"Well--not exactly--" + +"Besides, in general," continued the squire, "compliments are mere waste +of breath. If a woman has any vanity she knows her own good points much +better than any man who attempts to explain them to her; and if she has +no vanity, no amount of explanation of her merits will make her see them +in a proper light." + +"That is very true," answered Mrs. Goddard, thoughtfully. "It never +struck me before. I wonder whether that is the reason women always like +men who never make any compliments at all?" + +The squire's face assumed an amusing expression of inquiry and surprise. + +"Is that personal?" he asked. + +"Oh--of course not," answered Mrs. Goddard in some confusion. She blushed +and turning towards the fire took up the poker and pretended to stir the +coals. Women always delight in knocking a good fire to pieces, out of +pure absence of mind. John Short saw the movement and, escaping suddenly +from the maternal conversation of Mrs. Ambrose, threw himself upon his +knee on the hearth-rug and tried to take the poker from his hostess's +hand. + +"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, don't! Let me do it--please!" he exclaimed. + +"But I can do it very well myself," said she protesting and not relaxing +her hold upon the poker. But John was obstinate in his determination to +save her trouble, and rudely tried to get the instrument away. + +"Please don't--you hurt me," said Mrs. Goddard petulantly. + +"Oh--I beg your pardon--I wanted to help you," said John leaving his +hold. "I did not really hurt you--did I?" he asked, almost tenderly. + +"Dreadfully," replied Mrs. Goddard, half angry and half amused at his +impatience and subsequent contrition. The squire sat complacently in his +chair, watching the little scene. John hated him more than ever, and grew +very red. Mrs. Goddard saw the boy's embarrassment and presently +relented. + +"I daresay you will do it better than I," she said, handing him the +poker, which John seized with alacrity. "That big coal--there," she +added, pointing to a smouldering block in the corner of the grate. + +"I did not mean to be rude," said John. "I only wanted to help you." He +knelt by her side poking the fire industriously. "I only wanted to get a +chance to talk to you," he added, in a low voice, barely audible to Mrs. +Goddard as she leaned forward. + +"I am afraid you cannot do that just now," she said, not unkindly, but +with the least shade of severity in her tone. "You will get dreadfully +hot if you stay there, so near the fire." + +"I don't mind the heat in the least," said John heroically. Nevertheless +as she did not give him any further encouragement he was presently +obliged to retire, greatly discomfited. He could not spend the evening on +his knees with the poker in his hand. + +"Bad failure," remarked the squire in an undertone as soon as John had +rejoined Mrs. Ambrose, who had not quite finished her lecture on +homoeopathy. + +Mrs. Goddard leaned back in her chair and looked at Mr. Juxon rather +coolly. She did not want him to laugh at John, though she was not willing +to encourage John herself. + +"You should not be unkind," she said. "He is such a nice boy--why should +you wish him to be uncomfortable?" + +"Oh, I don't in the least. I could not help being amused a little. I am +sure I don't want to be unkind." + +Indeed the squire had not shown himself to be so, on the whole, and he +did not refer to the matter again during the evening. He kept his place +for some time by Mrs. Goddard's side and then, judging that he had +sufficiently asserted his superiority, rose and talked to Mrs. Ambrose. +But John, being now in a thoroughly bad humour, could not take his vacant +seat with a good grace. He stood aloof and took up a book that lay upon +the table and avoided looking at Mrs. Goddard. By and by, when the party +broke up, he said good-night in such a particularly cold and formal tone +of voice that she stared at him in surprise. But he took no notice of her +look and went away after the Ambroses, in that state of mind which boys +call a huff. + +But on the following day John repented of his behaviour. All day long he +wandered about the garden of the vicarage, excusing himself from joining +the daily skating which formed the staple of amusement during the +Christmas week, by saying that he had an idea for a copy of verses and +must needs work it out. But he inwardly hoped that Mrs. Goddard would +come to the vicarage late in the afternoon, without the inevitable Mr. +Juxon, and that he might then get a chance of talking to her. He was not +quite sure what he should say. He would find words on the spur of the +moment; it would at all events be much easier than to meet her on the ice +at the Hall with all the rest of them and to see Mr. Juxon pushing her +about in that detestable chair, with the unruffled air of superiority +which John so hated to see upon his face. The vicar suspected more than +ever that there was something wrong; he had seen some of the by-play on +the previous evening, and had noticed John's ill-concealed disappointment +at being unable to dislodge the sturdy squire from his seat. But Mrs. +Ambrose seemed to be very obtuse, and the vicar would have been the last +to have spoken of his suspicions, even to the wife of his bosom. It was +his duty to induce John to go back to his work at the end of the week; it +was not his duty to put imputations upon him which Mrs. Ambrose would +naturally exaggerate and which would drive her excellent heart into a +terrible state of nervous anxiety. + +But Mrs. Goddard did not come back to the vicarage on that day, and John +went to dinner with a sad heart. It did not seem like a day at all if he +had not seen her and talked with her. He had now no doubt whatever that +he was seriously in love, and he set himself to consider his position. +The more he considered it, the more irreconcilable it seemed to be with +the passion which beset him. A child could see that for several years, at +least, he would not be in a position to marry. With Mr. Juxon at hand +from year's end to year's end, the owner of the Hall, of the +Billingsfield property and according to all appearances of other +resources besides,--with such a man constantly devoted to her, could Mrs. +Goddard be expected to wait for poor John three years, even two years, +from the time of the examination for the classical Tripos? Nothing was +more improbable, he was forced to admit. And yet, the idea of life if he +did not marry Mrs. Goddard was dismal beyond all expression; he would +probably not survive it. He did not know what he should do. He shrank +from the thought of declaring his love to her at once. He remembered with +pain that she had a terrible way of laughing at him when he grew +confidential or too complimentary, and he dreaded lest at the supreme +moment of his life he should appear ridiculous in her eyes--he, a mere +undergraduate. If he came out at the head of the Tripos it would be +different; and yet that seemed so long to wait, especially while Mr. +Juxon lived at the Hall and Mrs. Goddard lived at the park gates. +Suddenly a thought struck him which filled him with delight; it was just +possible that Mr. Juxon had no intention of marrying Mrs. Goddard. If he +had any such views he would probably have declared them before now, for +he had met her every day during more than half a year. John longed to ask +some one the question. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose, who might be supposed to know +everything connected with Mrs. Goddard, could tell him. He felt very +nervous at the idea of speaking to the vicar on the subject, and yet it +seemed to him that no one else could set his mind at rest. If he were +quite certain that Mr. Juxon had no intention of offering himself to the +charming tenant of the cottage, he might return to his work with some +sense of security in the future. Otherwise he saw only the desperate +alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved +her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of +hearing any day that she had married the squire. To be laughed at would +be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle, +would be awful. No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth; +it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done. Having at +last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of +dinner, his spirits rose a little. He took another glass of the vicar's +mild ale and felt that he could face his fate. + +"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr. Ambrose?" he said as they +rose from table. + +"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the +drawing-room, he returned to find John. There was a low, smouldering fire +in the study grate, and John had lit a solitary candle. The room looked +very dark and dismal and John was seated in one of the black leather +chairs, waiting. + +"Anything about those verses you were speaking of to-day?" asked the +vicar cheerfully, in anticipation of a pleasant classical chat. + +"No," said John, gloomily. "The fact is--" he cleared his throat, "the +fact is, I want to ask you rather a delicate question, sir." + +The vicar's heavy eyebrows contracted; the lines of his face all turned +downwards, and his long, clean-shaved upper lip closed sharply upon its +fellow, like a steel trap. He turned his grey eyes upon John's averted +face with a searching look. + +"Have you got into any trouble at Trinity, John?" he asked severely. + +"Oh no--no indeed," said John. Nothing was further from his thoughts than +his college at that moment. "I want to ask you a question, which no one +else can answer. Is--do you think that--that Mr. Juxon has any idea of +marrying Mrs. Goddard?" + +The vicar started in astonishment and laid both hands upon the arms of +his chair. + +"What--in the world--put that--into your head?" he asked very slowly, +emphasising every word of his question. John was prepared to see his old +tutor astonished but was rather taken aback at the vicar's tone. + +"Do you think it is likely, sir?" he insisted. + +"Certainly not," answered the vicar, still eyeing him suspiciously. +"Certainly not. I have positive reasons to prove the contrary. But, my +dear John, why, in the name of all that is sensible, do you ask me such a +question? You don't seriously think of proposing--" + +"I don't see why I should not," said John doggedly, seeing that he was +found out. + +"You don't see why you should not? Why the thing is perfectly absurd, not +to say utterly impossible! John, you are certainly mad." + +"I don't see why," repeated John. "I am a grown man. I have good +prospects--" + +"Good prospects!" ejaculated the vicar in horror. "Good prospects! Why, +you are only an undergraduate at Cambridge." + +"I may be senior classic in a few months," objected John. "That is not +such a bad prospect, it seems to me." + +"It means that you may get a fellowship, probably will--in the course of +a few years. But you lose it if you marry. Besides--do you know that Mrs. +Goddard is ten years older than you, and more?" + +"Impossible," said John in a tone of conviction. + +"I know that she is. She will be two and thirty on her next birthday, and +you are not yet one and twenty." + +"I shall be next month," argued John, who was somewhat taken aback, +however, by the alarming news of Mrs. Goddard's age. "Besides, I can go +into the church, before I get a fellowship--" + +"No, you can't," said the vicar energetically. "You won't be able to +manage it. If you do, you will have to put up with a poor living." + +"That would not matter. Mrs. Goddard has something--" + +"An honourable prospect!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, growing more and more +excited. "To marry a woman ten years older than yourself because she has +a little money of her own! You! I would not have thought it of you, +John--indeed I would not!" + +Indeed no one was more surprised than John Short himself, when he found +himself arguing the possibilities of his marriage with his old tutor. But +he was an obstinate young fellow enough and was not inclined to give up +the fight easily. + +"Really," he objected, "I cannot see anything so very terrible in the +idea. I shall certainly make my way in the world. You know that it is not +for the sake of her money. Many men have married women ten years older +than themselves, and not half so beautiful and charming, I am sure." + +"I don't believe it," said the vicar, "and if they have, why it has been +very different, that is all. Besides, you have not known Mrs. Goddard a +week--positively not more than five days--why, it is madness! Do you mean +to tell me that at the end of five days you believe you are seriously +attached to a lady you never saw in your life before?" + +"I saw her once," said John. "That day when I waked Muggins--" + +"Once! Nearly three years ago! I have no patience with you, John! That a +young fellow of your capabilities should give way to such a boyish fancy! +It is absolutely amazing! I thought you were growing to like her society +very much, but I did not believe it would, come to this!" + +"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said John stoutly. + +"It is something to be afraid of," answered the vicar. + +"Oh, do not be alarmed," retorted John. "I will do nothing rash. You have +set my mind at rest in assuring me that she will not marry Mr. Juxon. I +shall not think of offering myself to Mrs. Goddard until after the +Tripos." + +"Offering myself"--how deliciously important the expression sounded to +John's own ears! It conveyed such a delightful sense of the possibilities +of life when at last he should feel that he was in a position to offer +himself to any woman, especially to Mrs. Goddard. + +"I have a great mind not to ask you to come down, even if you do turn out +senior classic," said the vicar, still fuming with excitement. "But if +you put off your rash action until then, you will probably have changed +your mind." + +"I will never change my mind," said John confidently. It was evident, +nevertheless, that if the romance of his life were left to the tender +mercies of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, it was likely to come to an +abrupt termination. When the two returned to the society of Mrs. Ambrose, +the vicar was still very much agitated and John was plunged in a gloomy +melancholy. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +The vicar's suspicions were more than realized and he passed an +uncomfortable day after his interview with John, in debating what he +ought to do, whether he ought to do anything at all, or whether he should +merely hasten his old pupil's departure and leave matters to take care of +themselves. He was a very conscientious man, and he felt that he was +responsible for John's conduct towards Mrs. Goddard, seeing that she had +put herself under his protection, and that John was almost like one of +his family. His first impulse was to ask counsel of his wife, but he +rejected the plan, reflecting with great justice that she was very fond +of John and had at first not been sure of liking Mrs. Goddard; she would +be capable of thinking that the latter had "led Short on," as she would +probably say. The vicar did not believe this, and was therefore loath +that any one else should. He felt that circumstances had made him Mrs. +Goddard's protector, and he was moreover personally attached to her; he +would not therefore do or say anything whereby she was likely to +appear to any one else in an unfavourable light. It was incredible that +she should have given John any real encouragement. Mr. Ambrose wondered +whether he ought to warn her of his pupil's madness. But when he thought +about that, it seemed unnecessary. It was unlikely that John would betray +himself during his present visit, since the vicar had solemnly assured +him that there was no possibility of a marriage so far as Mr. Juxon was +concerned. It was undoubtedly a very uncomfortable situation but there +was evidently nothing to be done; Mr. Ambrose felt that to speak to Mrs. +Goddard would be to precipitate matters in a way which could not but +cause much humiliation to John Short and much annoyance to herself. He +accordingly held his peace, but his upper lip set itself stiffly and his +eyes had a combative expression which told his wife that there was +something the matter. + +After breakfast John went out, on pretence of walking in the garden, and +Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were left alone. The latter, as usual after the +morning meal, busied herself about the room, searching out those secret +corners which she suspected Susan of having forgotten to dust. The vicar +stood looking out of the window. The weather was grey and it seemed +likely that there would be a thaw which would spoil the skating. + +"I think," said Mrs. Ambrose, "that John is far from well." + +"What makes you say that?" inquired the vicar, who was thinking of him at +that very moment. + +"Anybody might see it. He has no appetite--he ate nothing at breakfast +this morning. He looks pale. My dear, that boy will certainly break +down." + +"I don't believe it," answered Mr. Ambrose still looking out of the +window. His hands were in his pockets, thrusting the skirts of his +clerical coat to right and left; he slowly raised himself upon his toes +and let himself down again, repeating the operation as though it helped +him to think. + +"That is the way you spoil all your coats, Augustin," said his wife +looking at him from behind. "I assure you, my dear, that boy is not well. +Poor fellow, all alone at college with nobody to look after him--" + +"We have all had to go through that. I do not think it hurts him a bit," +said the vicar, slowly removing his hands from his pockets in deference +to his wife's suggestion. + +"Then what is it, I would like to know? There is certainly something the +matter. Now I ask you whether he looks like himself?" + +"Perhaps he does look a little tired." + +"Tired! There is something on his mind, Augustin. I am positively certain +there is something on his mind. Why won't you tell me?" + +"My dear--" began the vicar, and then stopped short. He was a very +truthful man, and as he knew very well what was the matter with John he +was embarrassed to find an answer. "My dear," he repeated, "I do not +think he is ill." + +"Then I am right," retorted Mrs. Ambrose, triumphantly. "It is just as I +thought, there is something on his mind. Don't deny it, Augustin; there +is something on his mind." + +Mr. Ambrose was silent; he glared fiercely at the window panes. + +"Why don't you tell me?" insisted his better half. "I am quite sure you +know all about it. Augustin, do you know, or do you not?" + +Thus directly questioned the vicar turned sharply round, sweeping the +window with his coat tails. + +"My dear," he said, shortly, "I do know. Can you not imagine that it may +be a matter which John does not care to have mentioned?" + +Mrs. Ambrose grew red with annoyance. She had set her heart on finding +out what had disturbed John, and the vicar had apparently made up his +mind that she should not succeed. Such occurrences were very rare between +that happy couple. + +"I cannot believe he has done anything wrong," said Mrs. Ambrose. +"Anything which need be concealed from me--the interest I have always +taken--" + +"He has not done anything wrong," said the vicar impatiently. "I do wish +you would drop the subject--" + +"Then why should it be concealed from me?" objected his wife with +admirable logic. "If it is anything good he need not hide his light under +a bushel, I should think." + +"There are plenty of things which are neither bad nor good," argued the +vicar, who felt that if he could draw Mrs. Ambrose into a Socratic +discussion he was safe. + +"That is a distinct prevarication, Augustin," said she severely. "I am +surprised at you." + +"Not at all," retorted the vicar. "What has occurred to John is not owing +to any fault of his." In his own mind the good man excused himself by +saying that John could not have helped falling in love with Mrs. Goddard. +But his wife turned quickly upon him. + +"That does not prevent what has occurred to him, as you call it, from +being good, or more likely bad, to judge from his looks." + +"My dear," said Mr. Ambrose, driven to bay, "I entirely decline to +discuss the point." + +"I thought you trusted me, Augustin." + +"So I do--certainly--and I always consult you about my own affairs." + +"I think I have as much right to know about John as you have," retorted +his wife, who seemed deeply hurt. + +"That is a point then which you ought to settle with John," said the +vicar. "I cannot betray his confidence, even to you." + +"Oh--then he has been making confidences to you?" + +"How in the world should I know about his affairs unless he told me?" + +"One may see a great many things without being told about them, you +know," answered Mrs. Ambrose, assuming a prim expression as she examined +a small spot in the tablecloth. The vicar was walking up and down the +room. Her speech, which was made quite at random, startled him. She, too, +might easily have observed John's manner when he was with Mrs. Goddard; +she might have guessed the secret, and have put her own interpretation on +John's sudden melancholy. + +"What may one see?" asked the vicar quickly. + +"I did not say one could see anything," answered his wife. "But from your +manner I infer that there really is something to see. Wait a minute--what +can it be?" + +"Nothing--my dear, nothing," said the vicar desperately. + +"Oh, Augustin, I know you so well," said the implacable Mrs. Ambrose. "I +am quite sure now, that it is something I have seen. Deny it, my dear." + +The vicar was silent and bit his long upper lip as he marched up and down +the room. + +"Of course--you cannot deny it," she continued. "It is perfectly clear. +The very first day he arrived--when you came down from the Hall, in the +evening--Augustin, I have got it! It is Mrs. Goddard--now don't tell me +it is not. I am quite sure it is Mrs. Goddard. How stupid of me! Is it +not Mrs. Goddard?" + +"If you are so positive," said the vicar, resorting to a form of defence +generally learned in the nursery, "why do you ask me?" + +"I insist upon knowing, Augustin, is it, or is it not, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"My dear, I positively refuse to answer any more questions," said the +vicar with tardy firmness. + +"Oh, it is no matter," retorted Mrs. Ambrose in complete triumph, "if it +were not Mrs. Goddard of course you would say so at once." + +A form of argument so unanswerable, that the vicar hastily left the room +feeling that he had basely betrayed John's confidence, and muttering +something about intolerable curiosity. Mrs. Ambrose had vanquished her +husband, as she usually did on those rare occasions when anything +approaching to a dispute arose between them. Having come to the +conclusion that "it" was Mrs. Goddard, the remainder of the secret needed +no discovery. It was plain that John must be in love with the tenant of +the cottage, and it seemed likely that it would devolve upon Mrs. Ambrose +to clear up the matter. She was very fond of John and her first +impression was that Mrs. Goddard, whom she now again suspected of having +foreign blood, had "led him on"--an impression which the vicar had +anticipated when he rashly resolved not to tell his wife John's secret. +She knew very well that the vicar must have told John his mind in regard +to such an attachment, and she easily concluded that he must have done so +on the previous evening when John called him into the study. But she had +just won a victory over her husband, and she consequently felt that he +was weak, probably too weak to save the situation, and it was borne in +upon her that she ought to do something immediately. Unhappily she did +not see quite clearly what was to be done. She might go straight to Mrs. +Goddard and accuse her of having engaged John's affections; but the more +she thought of that, the more diffident she grew in regard to the result +of such an interview. Curiosity had led her to a certain point, but +caution prevented her from going any further. Mrs. Ambrose was very +cautious. The habit of living in a small place, feeling that all her +actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them, +had made her even more careful than she was by nature. It would be very +unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. Goddard unless she were very sure +of the result. Mrs. Goddard was hardly a friend. In Mrs. Ambrose's +opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost +daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not constitute +friendship. Nevertheless the vicar's wife would have been ashamed to own +that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of +Mrs. Goddard's real character; especially as the latter had requested the +vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at +Billingsfield. Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained +over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally +the events of the last few days. She remembered distinctly that John had +perpetually pursued Mrs. Goddard, and that although the latter seemed to +find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose's knowledge +given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and +signals, which in the good lady's mind were classified under the term +"flirting." Mrs. Ambrose's ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated; +thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had +not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just. +Mrs. Goddard had not flirted with John. It is worthy of notice that in +proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an +explanation from Mrs. Goddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually +arrived at the conclusion that it was John's fault. Half an hour ago, in +the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be +John's fault. She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity. +Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be passed over with +indifference. It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very +soon. + +John thought so too. Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar +knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him +to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of +marrying Mrs. Goddard. He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once +and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over. He would then come +back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the +prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs. +Goddard's feet. But of course he must have one farewell interview. Oh, +those farewell interviews! Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is +taken without leave! + +Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving +the vicarage on the morrow. Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an +equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly +pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for +his health. She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she +was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be +helped. The vicar was moved by his wife's apparent indifference. John, he +said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but +at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of +fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the +consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress. John +saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of +going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night's +interview. But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt +to explain to himself what was happening. + +But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his +intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he +meant to see Mrs. Goddard before he left he must go to her at once. He +therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in +the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road. + +He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. Goddard. He meant, of +course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving +suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to +accomplish it. He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into +his head spontaneously. His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he +blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage. Almost before he knew where +he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the +presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved. But to his great +annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her. Mrs. Goddard sat near +the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep +sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and +hands as she read. Mrs. Goddard extended her hand, without rising. + +"How do you do, Mr. Short?" she said. The young man stood hat in hand in +the middle of the room, feeling very nervous. It was strange that he +should experience any embarrassment now, considering how many hours he +had spent in her company during the last few days. He blushed and +stammered. + +"How do you do? I, in fact--I have come to say good-bye," he blurted out. + +"So soon?" said Mrs. Goddard calmly. "Pray sit down." + +"Are you really going away, Mr. Short?" asked Nellie. "We are so sorry to +lose you." The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been +reading, and thought it very appropriate. Her mother smiled. + +"Yes--as Nellie says--we are sorry to lose you," she said. "I thought you +were to stay until Monday?" + +"So I was--but--very urgent business--not exactly business of course, but +work--calls me away sooner." Having delivered himself of this masterpiece +of explanation John looked nervously at Nellie and then at his hat and +then, with an imploring glance, at Mrs. Goddard. + +"But we shall hear of you, Mr. Short--after the examinations, shall we +not?" + +"Oh yes," said John eagerly. "I will come down as soon as the lists are +out." + +"You have my best wishes, you know," said Mrs. Goddard kindly. "I feel +quite sure that you will really be senior classic." + +"Mamma is always saying that--it is quite true," explained Nellie. + +John blushed again and looked gratefully at Mrs. Goddard. He wished +Nellie would go away, but there was not the least chance of that. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "I often say it. We all take a great interest +in your success here." + +"You are very kind," murmured John. "Of course I shall come down at once +and tell you all about it, if I succeed. I do not really expect to be +first, of course. I shall be satisfied if I get a place in the first ten. +But I mean to do my best." + +"No one can do more," said Mrs. Goddard, leaning back in her chair and +looking into the fire. Her face was quiet, but not sad as it sometimes +was. There was a long silence which John did not know how to break. +Nellie sat upon a carved chair by the side of the fireplace dangling her +legs and looking at her toes, turning them alternately in and out. She +wished John would go for she wanted to get back to her book, but had been +told it was not good manners to read when there were visitors. John +looked at Mrs. Goddard's face and was about to speak, and then changed +his mind and grew red and said nothing. Had she noticed his shyness she +would have made an effort at conversation, but she was absent-minded +to-day, and was thinking of something else. Suddenly she started and +laughed a little. + +"I beg your pardon," she said. "What were you saying, Mr. Short?" Had +John been saying anything he would have repeated it, but being thus +interrogated he grew doubly embarrassed. + +"I--I have not much to say--except good-bye," he answered. + +"Oh, don't go yet," said Mrs. Goddard. "You are not going this afternoon? +It is always so unpleasant to say good-bye, is it not?" + +"Dreadfully," answered John. "I would rather say anything else in the +world. No; I am going early to-morrow morning. There is no help for it," +he added desperately. "I must go, you know." + +"The next time you come, you will be able to stay much longer," said Mrs. +Goddard in an encouraging way. "You will have no more terms, then." + +"No indeed--nothing but to take my degree." + +"And what will you do then? You said the other day that you thought +seriously of going into the church." + +"Oh mamma," interrupted Nellie suddenly looking up, "fancy Mr. Short in a +black gown, preaching like Mr. Ambrose! How perfectly ridiculous he would +look!" + +"Nellie--Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, "do not talk nonsense. It is +very rude to say Mr. Short would look ridiculous." + +"I didn't mean to be rude, mamma," returned Nellie, blushing scarlet and +pouting her lips, "only it would be very funny, wouldn't it?" + +"I daresay it would," said John, relieved by the interruption. "I wish +you would advise me what to do, Mrs. Goddard," he added in a confidential +tone. + +"I?" she exclaimed, and then laughed. "How should I be able to advise +you?" + +"I am sure you could," said John, insisting. "You have such wonderfully +good judgment--" + +"Have I? I did not know it. But, tell me, if you come out very high are +you not sure of getting a fellowship?" + +"It is likely," answered John indifferently. "But I should have to give +it up if I married--" + +"Surely, Mr. Short," cried Mrs. Goddard, with a laugh that cut him to the +quick, "you do not think of marrying for many years to come?" + +"Oh--I don't know," he said, blushing violently, "why should not I?" + +"In the first place, a man should never marry until he is at least five +and twenty years old," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. + +"Well--I may be as old as that before I get the fellowship." + +"Yes, I daresay. But even then, why should you want to resign a handsome +independence as soon as you have got it? Is there anything else so good +within your reach?" + +"There is the church, of course," said John. "But Miss Nellie seems to +think that ridiculous--" + +"Never mind Nellie," answered Mrs. Goddard. "Seriously, Mr. Short, do you +approve of entering the church merely as a profession, a means of earning +money?" + +"Well--no--I did not put it in that way. But many people do." + +"That does not prove that it is either wise or decent," said Mrs. +Goddard. "If you felt impelled to take orders from other motives, it +would be different. As I understand you, you are choosing a profession +for the sake of becoming independent." + +"Certainly," said John. + +"Well, then, there is nothing better for you to do than to get a +fellowship and hold it as long as you can, and during that time you can +make up your mind." She spoke with conviction, and the plan seemed good. +"But I cannot imagine," she continued, "why you should ask my advice." + +"And not to marry?" inquired John nervously. + +"There is plenty of time to think of that when you are thirty--even five +and thirty is not too late." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed John, "I think that is much too old!" + +"Do you call me old?" asked Mrs. Goddard serenely. "I was thirty-one on +my last birthday." + +For the twentieth time, John felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Not +only had he said an unconscionably stupid thing, but Mrs. Goddard, after +advising him not to marry for ten years, had almost hinted that she might +meanwhile be married herself. What else could she mean by the remark? But +John was hardly a responsible being on that day. His views of life and +his understanding were equally disturbed. + +"No indeed," he protested on hearing her confession of age. "No +indeed--why, you are the youngest person I ever saw, of course. But with +men--it is quite different." + +"Is it? I always thought women were supposed to grow old faster than men. +That is the reason why women always marry men so much older than +themselves." + +"Oh--in that case--I have nothing more to say," replied John in very +indistinct tones. The perspiration was standing upon his forehead; the +room swam with him and he felt a terrible, prickly sensation all over his +body. + +"Mamma, shan't I open the door? Mr. Short is so very hot," said Nellie +looking at him in some astonishment. At that moment John felt as though +he could have eaten little Nellie, long legs, ringlets and all, with +infinite satisfaction. He rose suddenly to his feet. + +"The fact is--it is late--I must really be saying good-bye," he +stammered. + +"Must you?" said Mrs. Goddard, suspecting that something was the matter. +"Well, I am very sorry to say good-bye. But you will be coming back soon, +will you not?" + +"Yes--I don't know--perhaps I shall not come back at all. Good-bye--Mrs. +Goddard--good-bye, Miss Nellie." + +"Good-bye, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, looking at him with some +anxiety. "You are not ill? What is the matter?" + +"Oh dear no, nothing," answered John with an unnatural laugh. "No thank +you--good-bye." + +He managed to get out of the door and rushed down to the road. The cold +air steadied his nerves. He felt better. With a sudden revulsion of +feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against +the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general, +not forgetting poor little Nellie. + +"If ever I cross that threshold again--" he muttered with tragic +emphasis. His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously +as he strode towards the vicarage. Several little boys in ragged +smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own +fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned. + +So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the +following morning. He sent an excuse to Mr. Juxon explaining that the +urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when +the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared +the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some +of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly +of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay +and which had come to such a miserable end. + +Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs. Goddard, he was +surprised to find that his memory failed him. He could not recall +anything which could satisfactorily account for the terrible +disappointment and distress he had felt. She had only said that she was +thirty-one years old, precisely as the vicar had stated on the previous +evening, and she had advised him not to marry for some years to come. But +she had laughed, and his feelings had been deeply wounded--he could not +tell precisely at what point in the conversation, but he was quite +certain that she had laughed, and oh! that terrible Nellie! It was very +bitter, and John felt that the best part of his life was lived out. He +went back to his books with a dark and melancholy tenacity of purpose, +flavoured by a hope that he might come to some sudden and awful end in +the course of the next fortnight, thereby causing untold grief and +consternation to the hard-hearted woman he had loved. But before the +fortnight had expired he found to his surprise that he was intensely +interested in his work, and once or twice he caught himself wondering how +Mrs. Goddard would look when he went back to Billingsfield and told her +he had come out at the head of the classical Tripos--though, of course, +he had no intention of going there, nor of ever seeing her again. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +Mr. Juxon was relieved to hear that John Short had suddenly gone back to +Cambridge. He had indeed meant to like him from the first and had +behaved towards him with kindness and hospitality; but while ready to +admire his good qualities and to take a proper amount of interest in his +approaching contest for honours, he had found him a troublesome person to +deal with and, in his own words, a nuisance. Matters had come to a climax +after the tea at the cottage, when the squire had so completely +vanquished him, but since that evening the two had not met. + +The opposition which John brought to bear against Mr. Juxon was not, +however, without its effect. The squire was in that state of mind in +which a little additional pressure sufficed to sway his resolutions. +It has been seen that he had for some time regarded Mrs. Goddard's +society as an indispensable element in his daily life; he had been so +much astonished at discovering this that he had absented himself for +several days and had finally returned ready to submit to his fate, in so +far as his fate required that he should see Mrs. Goddard every day. +Shortly afterwards John had appeared and by his persistent attempts to +monopolise Mrs. Goddard's conversation had again caused an interruption +in the squire's habits, which the latter had resented with characteristic +firmness. The very fact of having resisted John had strengthened and +given a new tone to Mr. Juxon's feelings towards his tenant. He began to +watch the hands of the clock with more impatience than formerly when, +after breakfast, he sat reading the papers before the library fire, +waiting for the hour when he was accustomed to go down to the cottage. +His interest in the papers decreased as his interest in the time of day +grew stronger, and for the first time in his life he found to his great +surprise that after reading the news of the day with the greatest care, +he was often quite unable to remember a word of what he had read. Then, +at first, he would be angry with himself and would impose upon himself +the task of reading the paper again before going to the cottage. But very +soon he found that he had to read it twice almost every day, and this +seemed such an unreasonable waste of time that he gave it up, and fell +into very unsystematic habits. + +For some days, as though by mutual consent, neither Mrs. Goddard nor the +squire spoke of John Short. The squire was glad he was gone and hoped +that he would not come back, but was too kind-hearted to say so; Mrs. +Goddard instinctively understood Mr. Juxon's state of mind and did not +disturb his equanimity by broaching an unpleasant subject. Several days +passed by after John had gone and he would certainly not have been +flattered had he known that during that time two, out of the four persons +he had met so often in his short holiday, had never so much as mentioned +him. + +One afternoon in January the squire found himself alone with Mrs. +Goddard. It was a great exception, and she herself doubted whether she +were wise to receive him when she had not Nellie with her. Nellie had +gone to the vicarage to help Mrs. Ambrose with some work she had in hand +for her poor people, but Mrs. Goddard had a slight headache and had +stayed at home in consequence. The weather was very bad; heavy clouds +were driving overhead and the north-east wind howled and screamed through +the leafless oaks of the park, driving a fine sleet against the cottage +windows and making the dead creepers rattle against the wall. It was a +bitter January day, and Mrs. Goddard felt how pleasant a thing it was to +stay at home with a book beside her blazing fire. She was all alone, and +Nellie would not be back before four o'clock. Suddenly a well-known step +echoed upon the slate flags without and there was a ring at the bell. +Mrs. Goddard had hardly time to think what she should do, as she laid her +book upon her knee and looked nervously over her shoulder towards the +door. It was awkward, she thought, but it could not be helped. In such +weather it seemed absurd to send the squire away because her little girl +was not with her. He had come all the way down from the Hall to spend +this dreary afternoon at the cottage--she could not send him away. There +were sounds in the passage as of some one depositing a waterproof coat +and an umbrella, the door opened and Mr. Juxon appeared upon the +threshold. + +"Come in," said Mrs. Goddard, banishing her scruples as soon as she saw +him. "I am all alone," she added rather apologetically. The squire, who +was a simple man in many ways, understood the remark and felt slightly +embarrassed. + +"Is Miss Nellie out?" he asked, coming forward and taking Mrs. Goddard's +hand. He had not yet reached the point of calling the child plain +"Nellie;" he would have thought it an undue familiarity. + +"She is gone to the vicarage," answered Mrs. Goddard. "What a dreadful +day! You must be nearly frozen. Will you have a cup of tea?" + +"No thanks--no, you are very kind. I have had a good walk; I am not +cold--never am. As you say, in such weather I could not resist the +temptation to come in. This is a capital day to test that India-rubber +tubing we have put round your windows. Excuse me--I will just look and +see if the air comes through." + +Mr. Juxon carefully examined the windows of the sitting-room and then +returned to his seat. + +"It is quite air-tight, I think," he said with some satisfaction, as he +smoothed his hair with his hand. + +"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Goddard. "It was so very good of you." + +"Not a bit of it," returned the squire cheerily. "A landlord's chief +pre-occupation ought to be the comfort of his tenants and his next +thought should be to keep his houses in repair. I never owned any +houses before, so I have determined to start with good principles." + +"I am sure you succeed. You walked down?" + +"Always walk, in any weather. It is much less trouble and much cheaper. +Besides, I like it." + +"The best of all reasons. Then you will not have any tea? I almost wish +you would, because I want some myself." + +"Oh of course--in that case I shall be delighted. Shall I ring?" + +He rang and Martha brought the tea. Some time was consumed in the +preparations which Mr. Juxon watched with interest as though he had never +seen tea made before. Everything that Mrs. Goddard did interested him. + +"I do not know why it is," she said at last, "but weather like this is +delightful when one is safe at home. I suppose it is the contrast--" + +"Yes indeed. It is like the watch below in dirty-weather." + +"Excuse me--I don't quite understand--" + +"At sea," explained the squire. "There is no luxury like being below when +the decks are wet and there is heavy weather about." + +"I should think so," said Mrs. Goddard. "Have you been at sea much, Mr. +Juxon?" + +"Thirty years," returned the squire laconically. Mrs. Goddard looked at +him in astonishment. + +"You don't mean to say you have been a sailor all your life?" + +"Does that surprise you? I have been a sailor since I was twelve years +old. But I got very tired of it. It is a hard life." + +"Were you in the navy, Mr. Juxon?" asked Mrs. Goddard eagerly, feeling +that she was at last upon the track of some information in regard to his +past life. + +"Yes--I was in the navy," answered the squire, slowly. "And then I was at +college, and then in the navy again. At last I entered the merchant +service and commanded my own ships for nearly twenty years." + +"How very extraordinary! Why then, you must have been everywhere." + +"Very nearly. But I would much rather be in Billingsfield." + +"You never told me," said Mrs. Goddard almost reproachfully. "What a +change it must have been for you, from the sea to the life of a country +gentleman!" + +"It is what I always wanted." + +"But you do not seem at all like the sea captains one hears about--" + +"Well, perhaps not," replied the squire thoughtfully. "There are a great +many different classes of sea captains. I always had a taste for books. A +man can read a great deal on a long voyage. I have sometimes been at sea +for more than two years at a time. Besides, I had a fairly good education +and--well, I suppose it was because I was a gentleman to begin with and +was more than ten years in the Royal Navy. All that makes a great +difference. Have you ever made a long voyage, Mrs. Goddard?" + +"I have crossed the channel," said she. "But I wish you would tell me +something more about your life." + +"Oh no--it is very dull, all that. You always make me talk about myself," +said the squire in a tone of protestation. + +"It is very interesting." + +"But--could we not vary the conversation by talking about you a little?" +suggested Mr. Juxon. + +"Oh no! Please--" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. She grew pale +and busied herself again with the tea. "Do tell me more about your +voyages. I suppose that was the way you collected so many beautiful +things, was it not?" + +"Yes, I suppose so," answered the squire, looking at her curiously. "In +fact of course it was. I was a great deal in China and South America and +India, and in all sorts of places where one picks up things." + +"And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?" + +"Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil +your carpet." + +The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point +of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she +had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost +control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day. + +"Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about +at first," she remarked, in order to say something. + +"I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her +again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard--I don't mean to be inquisitive you know, +but--I always want to be of any use." + +She looked at him inquiringly. + +"I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I +have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can +help you in any way--you have only to say the word." + +Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the +genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was +surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was +in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had +suffered during the greater part of the last three years. + +"You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter--I have a +headache." + +"Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed +embarrassed. + +"You have done too much already," said Mrs. Goddard, fearing that she had +not sufficiently acknowledged his offer of assistance. + +"I cannot do too much. That is impossible," he said in a tone of +conviction. "I have very few friends, Mrs. Goddard, and I like to think +that you are one of the best of them." + +"I am sure--I don't know what to say, Mr. Juxon," she answered, somewhat +startled by the directness of his speech. "I am sure you have always been +most kind, and I hope you do not think me ungrateful." + +"I? You? No--dear me, please never mention it! The fact is, Mrs. +Goddard--" he stopped and smoothed Ms hair. "What particularly +disagreeable weather," he remarked irrelevantly, looking out of the +window at the driving sleet. + +Mrs. Goddard looked down and slowly stirred her tea. She was pale and her +hand trembled a little, but no one could have guessed that she was +suffering any strong emotion. Mr. Juxon looked towards the window, and +the grey light of the winter's afternoon fell coldly upon his square +sunburned face and carefully trimmed beard. He was silent for a moment, +and then, still looking away from his companion, he continued in a less +hesitating tone. + +"The fact is, I have been thinking a great deal of late," he said, "and +it has struck me that your friendship has grown to be the most important +thing in my life." He paused again and turned his hat round upon his +knee. Still Mrs. Goddard said nothing, and as he did not look at her he +did not perceive that she was unnaturally agitated. + +"I have told you what my life has been," he continued presently. "I have +been a sailor. I made a little money. I finally inherited my uncle's +estate here. I will tell you anything else you would like to ask--I don't +think I ever did anything to conceal. I am forty-two years old. I have +about five thousand a year and I am naturally economical. I would like to +make you a proposal--a very respectful proposal, Mrs. Goddard--" + +Mrs. Goddard uttered a faint exclamation of surprise and fell back in her +chair, staring with wide eyes at the squire, her cheeks very pale and her +lips white. He was too much absorbed in what he was saying to notice the +short smothered ejaculation, and he was too much embarrassed to look at +her. + +"Mrs. Goddard," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "will you marry +me?" + +He was not prepared for the result of his speech. He had pondered it for +some time and had come to the conclusion that it was best to say as +little as possible and to say it plainly. It was an honourable proposal +of marriage from a man in middle life to a lady he had known and +respected for many months; there was very little romance about it; he did +not intend that there should be any. As soon as he had spoken he turned +his head and looked to her for his answer. Mrs. Goddard had clasped her +small white hands over her face and had turned her head away from him +against the cushion of the high backed chair. The squire felt very +uncomfortable in the dead silence, broken only by the sleet driving +against the window panes with a hissing, rattling sound, and by the +singing of the tea-kettle. For some seconds, which to Juxon seemed like +an eternity, Mrs. Goddard did not move. At last she suddenly dropped +her hands and looked into the squire's eyes. He was startled by the ashen +hue of her face. + +"It is impossible," she said, shortly, in broken tones. But the squire +was prepared for some difficulties. + +"I do not see the impossibility," he said quite calmly. "Of course, +I would not press you for an answer, my dear Mrs. Goddard. I am afraid +I have been very abrupt, but I will go away, I will leave you to +consider--" + +"Oh no, no!" cried the poor lady in great distress. "It is quite +impossible--I assure you it is quite, quite impossible!" + +"I don't know," said Mr. Juxon, who saw that she was deeply moved, but +was loath to abandon the field without a further struggle. "I am not a +very young man, it is true--but I am not a very old one either. You, my +dear Mrs. Goddard, have been a widow for some years--" + +"I?" cried Mrs. Goddard with a wild hysterical laugh. "I! Oh God of +mercy! I wish I were." Again she buried her face in the cushion. Her +bosom heaved violently. + +The squire started as though he had been struck, and the blood rushed to +his brown face so that the great veins on his temples stood out like +cords. + +"Did I--did I understand you to say that--your husband is living?" he +asked in a strong, loud voice, ringing with emotion. + +Mrs. Goddard moved a little and seemed to make a great effort to speak. + +"Yes," she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the +room in terrible agitation. + +"But where?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. "Mrs. Goddard, I +think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of +him?" + +By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat +supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly +staring eyes. + +"You have a right to know," she said. "He is in Portland--sentenced to +twelve years hard labour for forgery." + +She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she +did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite +motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the +palms turned upwards on her knees. + +Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong +language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of +the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and +he uttered aloud one strong and solemn ejaculation, more an invocation +than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he +looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady +and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes, +motionless, staring out at the driving sleet. + +Mrs. Goddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to +attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should +have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for +in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened +them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the +grey light. + +"Mr. Juxon," she said faintly, "come here, please." + +The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His +face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing. + +"Mr. Juxon," said Mrs. Goddard, speaking in a low voice, but with far +more calm than he could have expected, "you have a right to know my +story. You have been very kind to me, you have made an honourable offer +to me, you have said you were my friend. I ought to have told you before. +If I had had any idea of what was passing in your mind, I would have told +you, cost what it might." + +Mr. Juxon gravely bowed his head. She was quite right, he thought. He had +a right to know all. With all his kind-heartedness he was a stern man by +nature. + +"Yes," continued Mrs. Goddard, "you have every right to know. My +husband," her voice trembled, "was the head of an important firm in +London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's +death I married Mr. Goddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant +tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon +me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my +husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern. +When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My +husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He +speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his +hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three +years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed. +It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and +brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of +retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of +one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at +Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most +of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I +thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers assured me that I +ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It +is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who +conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I +would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and +gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story. +I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--" + +Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her +voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her +eyes. + +"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her +side, but who was in reality deeply moved. + +"No--she thinks he--that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she +fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and +rocking herself from side to side. + +"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her +arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for +having caused you so much pain--" + +"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady. + +"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard +dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears. + +"I think you behaved very honourably--very generously," continued Mr. +Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood +much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you--you +are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I +should go?" + +"Yes--it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all +about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to +his feet. + +"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this--this very unfortunate +day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?" + +Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears. + +"How good you are!" she said softly. + +"Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend. +Good-bye--G--God bless you!" He seized her hand and squeezed it and then +hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with +Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him. + +The squire was not a romantic character. He was a strong plain man, who +had seen the world and was used to most forms of danger and to a good +many forms of suffering. He was kind-hearted and generous, capable of +feeling sincere sympathy for others, and under certain circumstances of +being deeply wounded himself. He had indeed a far more refined nature +than he himself suspected and on this memorable day he had experienced +more emotions than he remembered to have felt in the course of many +years. + +After long debate and after much searching inquiry into his own motives +he had determined to offer himself to Mrs. Goddard, and he had +accordingly done so in his own straightforward manner. It had seemed +a very important action in his life, a very solemn step, but he was not +prepared for the acute sense of disappointment which he felt when Mrs. +Goddard first said it was impossible for her to accept him, still less +had he anticipated the extraordinary story which she had told him, in +explanation of her refusal. His ideas were completely upset. That Mrs. +Goddard was not a widow after all, was almost as astounding as that she +should prove to be the wife of a felon. But Mr. Juxon was no less +persuaded that she herself was a perfectly good and noble woman, than he +had been before. He felt that he would like to cut the throat of the +villain himself; but he resolved that he would more than ever try to be a +good friend to Mrs. Goddard. + +He walked slowly through the storm towards his house, his broad figure +facing the wind and sleet with as much ease as a steamer forging against +a head sea. He was perfectly indifferent to the weather; but Stamboul +slunk along at his heels, shielding himself from the driving wet snow +behind his master's sturdy legs. The squire was very much disturbed. The +sight of his own solemn butler affected him strangely. He stared about +the library in a vacant way, as though he had never seen the place +before. The realisation of his own calm and luxurious life seemed +unnatural, and his thoughts went back to the poor weeping woman he had +just left. She, too, had enjoyed all this, and more also. She had +probably been richer than he. And now she was living on five hundred a +year in one of his own cottages, hiding her shame in desolate +Billingsfield, the shame of her husband, the forger. + +It was such a hopeless position, the squire thought. No one could help +her, no one could do anything for her. For many weeks, revolving the +situation in his mind, he had amused himself by thinking how she would +look when she should be mistress of the Hall, and wondering whether +little Nellie would call him "father," or merely "Mr. Juxon." And now, +she turned out to be the wife of a forger, sentenced to hard labour in a +convict prison, for twelve years. For twelve years--nearly three must +have elapsed already. In nine years more Goddard would be out again. +Would he claim his wife? Of course--he would come back to her for +support. And poor little Nellie thought he was dead! It would be a +terrible day when she had to be told. If he only would die in +prison!--but men sentenced to hard labour rarely die. They are well cared +for. It is a healthy life. He would certainly live through it and come +back to claim his wife. Poor Mrs. Goddard! her troubles were not ended +yet, though the State had provided her with a respite of twelve years. + +The squire sat long in his easy-chair in the great library, and forgot to +dress for dinner--he always dressed, even though he was quite alone. But +the solemn face of his butler betrayed neither emotion nor surprise when +the master of the Hall walked into the dining-room in his knickerbockers. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +When Nellie came home from the vicarage she found her mother looking very +ill. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her features were drawn +and tear-stained, while the beautiful waves of her brown hair had lost +their habitual neatness and symmetry. The child noticed these things, +with a child's quickness, but explained them on the ground that her +mother's headache was probably much worse. Mrs. Goddard accepted the +explanation and on the following day Nellie had forgotten all about it; +but her mother remembered it long, and it was many days before she +recovered entirely from the shock of her interview with the squire. The +latter did not come to see her as usual, but on the morning after his +visit he sent her down a package of books and some orchids from his +hothouses. He thought it best to leave her to herself for a little while; +the very sight of him, he argued, would be painful to her, and any +meeting with her would be painful to himself. He did not go out of the +house, but spent the whole day in his library among his books, not indeed +reading, but pretending to himself that he was very busy. Being a strong +and sensible man he did not waste time in bemoaning his sorrows, but he +thought about them long and earnestly. The more he thought, the more it +appeared to him that Mrs. Goddard was the person who deserved pity rather +than he himself. His mind dwelt on the terrors of her position in case +her husband should return and claim his wife and daughter when the twelve +years were over, and he thought with horror of Nellie's humiliation, if +at the age of twenty she should discover that her father during all these +years had not been honourably dead and buried, but had been suffering the +punishment of a felon in Portland. That the only attempt he had ever made +to enter the matrimonial state should have been so singularly unfortunate +was indeed a matter which caused him sincere sorrow; he had thought too +often of being married to Mary Goddard to be able to give up the idea +without a sigh. But it is due to him to say that in the midst of his own +disappointment he thought much more of her sorrows than of his own, a +state of mind most probably due to his temperament. + +He saw also how impossible it was to console Mrs. Goddard or even to +alleviate the distress of mind which she must constantly feel. Her +destiny was accomplished in part, and the remainder seemed absolutely +inevitable. No one could prevent her husband from leaving his prison when +his crime was expiated; and no one could then prevent him from joining +his wife and ending his life under her roof. At least so it seemed. +Endless complications would follow. Mrs. Goddard would certainly have to +leave Billingsfield--no one could expect the Ambroses or the squire +himself to associate with a convict forger. Mr. Juxon vaguely wondered +whether he should live another nine years to see the end of all this, and +he inwardly determined to go to sea again rather than to witness such +misery. He could not see, no one could see how things could possibly turn +out in any other way. It would have been some comfort to have gone to the +vicar, and to have discussed with him the possibilities of Mrs. Goddard's +future. The vicar was a man after his own heart, honest, reliable, +charitable and brave; but Mr. Juxon thought that it would not be quite +loyal towards Mrs. Goddard if he let any one else know that he was +acquainted with her story. + +For two days he stayed at home and then he went to see her. To his +surprise she received him very quietly, much as she usually did, without +betraying any emotion; whereupon he wished that he had not allowed two +days to pass without making his usual visit. Mrs. Goddard almost wished +so too. She had been so much accustomed to regard the squire as a friend, +and she had so long been used to the thought that Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose +knew of her past trouble, that the fact of the squire becoming acquainted +with her history seemed to her less important, now that it was +accomplished, than it seemed to the squire himself. She had long thought +of telling him all; she had seriously contemplated doing so when he first +came to Billingsfield, and now at last the thing was done. She was glad +of it. She was no longer in a false position; he could never again think +of marrying her; they could henceforth meet as friends, since he was so +magnanimous as to allow their friendship to exist. Her pride had suffered +so terribly in the beginning that it was past suffering now. She felt +that she was in the position of a suppliant asking only for a quiet +resting-place for herself and her daughter, and she was grateful to the +people who gave her what she asked, feeling that she had fallen among +good Samaritans, whereas in merry England it would have been easy for her +to have fallen among priests and Pharisees. + +So it came about that in a few days her relations with Mr. Juxon were +re-established upon a new basis, but more firmly and satisfactorily than +before, seeing that now there was no possibility of mistake. And for a +long time it seemed as though matters would go on as before. Neither Mrs. +Goddard nor the squire ever referred to the interview on that memorable +stormy afternoon, and so far as the squire could judge his life and hers +might go on with perfect tranquillity until it should please the powers +that be and the governor of Portland to set Mr. Walter Goddard at +liberty. Heaven only knew what would happen then, but it was provided +that there should be plenty of time to prepare for anything which might +ensue. The point upon which Mrs. Goddard had not spoken plainly was that +which concerned her probable treatment of her husband after his +liberation. She had passed that question over in silence. She had +probably never dared to decide. Most probably she would at the last +minute seek some safer retreat than Billingsfield and make tip her mind +to hide for the rest of her life. But Mr. Juxon had heard of women who +had carried charity as far as to receive back their husbands under even +worse circumstances; women were soft-hearted creatures, reflected the +squire, and capable of anything. + +Few people in such a situation could have acted consistently as though +nothing had happened. But Mr. Juxon's extremely reticent nature found it +easy to bury other people's important secrets at least as deeply as he +buried the harmless details of his own honest life. Not a hair of his +smooth head was ruffled, not a line of his square manly face was +disturbed. He looked and acted precisely as he had looked and acted +before. His butler remarked that he ate a little less heartily of late, +and that on one evening, as has been recorded, the squire forgot to +dress for dinner. But the butler in his day had seen greater +eccentricities than these; he had the greatest admiration for Mr. Juxon +and was not inclined to cavil at small things. A real gentleman, of the +good sort, who dressed for dinner when he was alone, who never took too +much wine, who never bullied the servants nor quarrelled unjustly with +the bills, was, as the butler expressed it, "not to be sneezed at, on +no account." The place was a little dull, but the functionary was well +stricken in years and did not like hard work. Mr. Juxon seemed to be +conscious that as he never had visitors at the Hall and as there were +consequently no "tips," his staff was entitled to an occasional fee, +which he presented always with great regularity, and which had the +desired effect. He was a generous man as well as a just. + +The traffic in roses and orchids and new books continued as usual between +the Hall and the cottage, and for many weeks nothing extraordinary +occurred. Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard met frequently, and the only +difference to be observed in the manner of the former was that she +mentioned John Short very often, and every time she mentioned him she +fixed her grey eyes sternly upon Mrs. Goddard, who however did not notice +the scrutiny, or, if she did, was not in the least disturbed by it. For a +long time Mrs. Ambrose entertained a feeble intention of addressing Mrs. +Goddard directly upon the subject of John's affections, but the longer +she put off doing so, the harder it seemed to do it. Mrs. Ambrose had +great faith in the sternness of her eye under certain circumstances, and +seeing that Mrs. Goddard never winced, she gradually fell into the belief +that John had been the more to blame, if there was any blame in the +matter. She had indeed succeeded in the first instance, by methods of her +own which have been heretofore detailed, in extracting a sort of +reluctant admission from her husband; but since that day he had proved +obdurate to all entreaty. Once only he had said with considerable +impatience that John was a very silly boy, and was much better engaged +with his books at college than in running after Mrs. Goddard. That was +all, and gradually as the regular and methodical life at the vicarage +effaced the memory of the doings at Christmas time, the good Mrs. +Ambrose forgot that anything unpleasant had ever occurred. There was no +disturbance of the existing relations and everything went on as before +for many weeks. The February thaw set in early and the March winds began +to blow before February was fairly out. Nat Barker the octogenarian +cripple, who had the reputation of being a weather prophet, was +understood to have said that the spring was "loike to be forrard t'year," +and the minds of the younger inhabitants were considerably relieved. Not +that Nat Barker's prophecies were usually fulfilled; no one ever +remembered them at the time when they might have been verified. But they +were always made at the season when people had nothing to do but to talk +about them. Mr. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, turned up his nose +at them, and said he "wished Nat Barker had to dig a parish depth grave +in three hours without a drop of nothin' to wet his pipe with, and if he +didden fine that groun' oncommon owdacious Thomas Reid he didden know. +They didden know nothin', sir, them parish cripples." Wherewith the +worthy sexton took his way with a battered tin can to get his "fours" +at the Feathers. He did not patronise the Duke's Head. It was too +new-fangled for him, and he suspected his arch enemy, Mr. Abraham Boosey, +of putting a rat or two into the old beer to make it "draw," which +accounted for its being so "hard." But Mr. Abraham Boosey was the +undertaker, and he, Thomas Reid, was the sexton, and it did not do to +express these views too loudly, lest perchance Mr. Boosey should, just in +his play, construct a coffin or two just too big for the regulation +grave, and thereby leave Mr. Reid in the lurch. For the undertaker and +the gravedigger are as necessary to each other, as Mr. Reid maintained, +as a pair of blackbirds in a hedge. + +But the spring was "forrard t'year" and the weather was consequently even +more detestable than usual at that season. The roads were heavy. The rain +seemed never weary of pouring down and the wind never tired of blowing. +The wet and leafless creepers beat against the walls of the cottage, and +the chimneys smoked both there and at the vicarage. The rooms were +pervaded with a disagreeable smell of damp coal smoke, and the fires +struggled desperately to burn against the overwhelming odds of rain and +wind which came down the chimneys. Mrs. Goddard never remembered to have +been so uncomfortable during the two previous winters she had spent in +Billingsfield, and even Nellie grew impatient and petulant. The only +bright spot in those long days seemed to be made by the regular visits of +Mr. Juxon, by the equally regular bi-weekly appearance of the Ambroses +when they came to tea, and by the little dinners at the vicarage. The +weather had grown so wet and the roads so bad that on these latter +occasions the vicar sent his dogcart with Reynolds and the old mare, +Strawberry, to fetch his two guests. Even Mr. Juxon, who always walked +when he could, had got into the habit of driving down to the cottage +in a strange-looking gig which he had imported from America, and which, +among all the many possessions of the squire, alone attracted the +unfavourable comment of his butler. He would have preferred to see a good +English dogcart, high in the seat and wheels, at the door of the Hall, +instead of that outlandish vehicle; but Joseph Ruggles, the groom, +explained to him that it was easier to clean than a dogcart, and that +when it rained he sat inside with the squire. + +On a certain evening in February, towards the end of the month, Mr. and +Mrs. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon came to have tea with Mrs. Goddard. Mr. Juxon +had at first not been regularly invited to these entertainments. They +were perhaps not thought worthy of his grandeur; at all events both the +vicar's wife and Mrs. Goddard had asked him very rarely. But as time went +on and Mr. Juxon's character developed under the eyes of the little +Billingsfield society, it had become apparent to every one that he was a +very simple man, making no pretensions whatever to any superiority on +account of his station. They grew more and more fond of him, and ended by +asking him to their small sociable evenings. On these occasions it +generally occurred that the squire and the vicar fell into conversation +about classical and literary subjects while the two ladies talked of the +little incidents of Billingsfield life, of Tom Judd's wife and of Joe +Staines, the choir boy, who was losing his voice, and of similar topics +of interest in the very small world in which they lived. + +The present evening had not been at all a remarkable one so far as the +talk was concerned. The drenching rain, the tendency of the fire to +smoke, the general wetness and condensed depravity of the atmosphere had +affected the spirits of the little party. They were not gay, and they +broke up early. It was not nine o'clock when all had gone, and Mrs. +Goddard and little Eleanor were left alone by the side of their +drawing-room fire. The child sat upon a footstool and leaned her head +against her mother's knee. Mrs. Goddard herself was thoughtful and +sad, without precisely knowing why. She generally looked forward with +pleasure to meeting the Ambroses, but this evening she had been rather +disappointed. The conversation had dragged, and the excellent Mrs. +Ambrose had been more than usually prosy. Nellie had complained of a +headache and leaned wearily against her mother's knee. + +"Tell me a story, mamma--won't you? Like the ones you used to tell me +when I was quite a little girl." + +"Dear child," said her mother, who was not thinking of story-telling, "I +am afraid I have forgotten all the ones I ever knew. Besides, darling, it +is time for you to go to bed." + +"I don't want to go to bed, mamma. It is such a horrid night. The wind +keeps me awake." + +"You will not sleep at all if I tell you a story," objected Mrs. Goddard. + +"Mr. Juxon tells me such nice stories," said Nellie, reproachfully. + +"What are they about, dear?" + +"Oh, his stories are beautiful. They are always about ships and the blue +sea and wonderful desert islands where he has been. What a wonderful man +he is, mamma, is not he?" + +"Yes, dear, he talks very interestingly." Mrs. Goddard stroked Nellie's +brown curls and looked into the fire. + +"He told me that once, ever so many years ago--he must be very old, +mamma--" Nellie paused and looked up inquiringly. + +"Well, darling--not so very, very old. I think he is over forty." + +"Over forty--four times eleven--he is not four times as old as I am. +Almost, though. All his stories are ever so many years ago. He said he +was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new ship, and the name of +the ship was--let me see, what was the name? I think it was--" + +Mrs. Goddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child's shoulder. + +"Did you hear anything, Nellie?" she asked quickly. Nellie looked up in +some surprise. + +"No, mamma. When? Just now? It must have been the wind. It is such a +horrid night. The name of the ship was the 'Zephyr'--I remember, now." +She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story. Mrs. +Goddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window. She +had probably been mistaken. + +"And where did the ship sail to, Nellie dear?" she asked, smoothing the +child's curls again and forcing herself to smile. + +"Oh--the ship was a perfectly new ship and it was the most beautiful +weather in the world. They were sailing away ever so far, towards the +straits of Magellan. I was so glad because I knew where the straits of +Magellan were--and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished. But I had been +learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen +there, in my geography that very morning--was not it lucky? So I knew all +about it--mamma, how nervous you are! It is nothing but the wind. I wish +you would listen to my story--" + +"I am listening, darling," said Mrs. Goddard, making a strong effort to +overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her. "Go on, +sweetheart--you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing +away--" + +"Mr. Juxon was, mamma," said Nellie correcting her mother with the +asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects. + +"Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the ship was the 'Zephyr.'" + +"Yes--the 'Zephyr,'" repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified. "It was at +Christmas time he said--but that is summer in the southern hemisphere," +she added, proud of her knowledge. "So it was very fine weather. And Mr. +Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a +cigar--" + +"He never smokes, dear," interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie +that she was listening. + +"Well, but he did then, because he said so," returned Nellie unmoved. +"And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he +saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship--the most wonderful thing +he ever saw," added Nellie with some redundance of expression. + +"Was it a whale, child?" asked her mother, staring into the fire and +trying to pay attention. + +"A whale, mamma!" repeated Nellie contemptuously. "As if there were +anything remarkable about a whale! Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales, +I am sure." + +"Well, what was it, dear?" + +"It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a +thousand times as big as the ship--oh mamma! What was that?" + +Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking +towards the window. Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of +her chair. + +"Somebody knocked at the window, mamma," said Nellie breathlessly. "And +then somebody said 'Mary'--quite loud. Oh mamma, what can it be?" + +"Mary?" repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream. + +"Yes--quite loud. Oh mamma! it must be Mary's young man--he does +sometimes come in the evening." + +"Mary's young man, child?" Mrs. Goddard's heart leaped. Her cook's name +was Mary, as well as her own. Nellie naturally never associated the name +with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it. + +"Yes mamma. Don't you know? The postman--the man with the piebald horse." +The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any +letters and probably did not know the postman by sight. + +"At this time of night!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "It is too bad. Mary is +gone to bed." + +"Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting +up for you in the drawing-room," suggested Nellie with much good sense. +"Well, he can't come in, can he, mamma?" + +"Certainly not," said her mother. "But I think you had much better go to +bed, my dear. It is half-past nine." She spoke indistinctly, almost +thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. But +Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her +mother. + +"Oh not yet," said she. "I have not nearly finished about the +sea-serpent. Mr. Juxon said it was not like anything in the world. Do +listen, mamma! It is the most wonderful story you ever heard. It was +all covered with blue and green scales, and it rolled, and rolled, and +rolled, and rolled, till at last it rolled up against the side of the +ship with such a tremendous bump that Mr. Juxon fell right down on his +back." + +"Yes dear," said Mrs. Goddard mechanically, as the child paused. + +"You don't seem to mind at all!" cried Nellie, who felt that her efforts +to amuse her mother were not properly appreciated. "He fell right down on +his back and hurt himself awfully." + +"That was very sad," said Mrs. Goddard. "Did he catch the sea-serpent +afterwards ?" + +"Catch the sea-serpent! Why mamma, don't you know that nobody has ever +caught the sea-serpent? Why, hardly anybody has ever seen him, even!" + +"Yes dear, but I thought Mr. Juxon--" + +"Of course, Mr. Juxon is the most wonderful man--but he could not catch +the sea-serpent. Just fancy! When he got up from his fall, he looked and +he saw him quite half a mile away. He must have gone awfully fast, should +not you think so? Because, you know, it was only a minute." + +"Yes, my child; and it is a beautiful story, and you told it so nicely. +It is very interesting and you must tell me another to-morrow. But now, +dear, you must really go to bed, because I am going to bed, too. That man +startled me so," she said, passing her small white hand over her pale +forehead and then staring into the fire. + +"Well, I don't wonder," answered Nellie in a patronising tone. "Such a +dreadful night too! Of course, it would startle anybody. But he won't try +again, and you can scold Mary to-morrow and then she can scold her young +man." + +The child spoke so naturally that all doubts vanished from Mrs. Goddard's +mind. She reflected that children are much more apt to see things as they +are, than grown people whose nerves are out of order. Nellie's +conclusions were perfectly logical, and it seemed folly to doubt them. +She determined that Mary should certainly be scolded on the morrow and +she unconsciously resolved in her mind the words she should use; for she +was rather a timid woman and stood a little in awe of her stalwart +Berkshire cook, with her mighty arms and her red face, and her uncommonly +plain language. + +"Yes dear," she said more quietly than she had been able to speak for +some time, "I have no doubt you are quite right. I thought I heard his +footsteps just now, going down the path. So he will not trouble us any +more to-night. And now darling, kneel down and say your prayers, and then +we will go to bed." + +So Nellie, reassured by the news that her mother was going to bed, too, +knelt down as she had done every night during the eleven years of her +life, and clasped her hands together, beneath her mother's. Then she +cleared her throat, then she glanced at the clock, then she looked for +one moment into the sweet serious violet eyes that looked down on her so +lovingly, and then at last she bent her lovely little head and began to +say her prayers, there, by the fire, at her mother's knees, while angry +storm howled fiercely without and shook the closed panes and shutters +and occasional drops of rain, falling down the short chimney, sputtered +in the smouldering coal fire. + +"Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom +come--" + +Nellie gave a loud scream and springing up from her knees flung her arms +around her mother's neck, in uttermost, wildest terror. + +"Mamma, mamma!" she cried looking, and yet hardly daring to look, back +towards the closed window. "It called 'MARY GODDARD'! It is you, mamma! +Oh!" + +There was no mistaking it this time. While Nellie was saying her prayer +there had come three sharp and distinct raps upon the wooden shutter, and +a voice, not loud but clear, penetrating into the room in spite of wind +and storm and rain. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard!" it said. + +Mrs. Goddard started to her feet, lifting Nellie bodily from the ground +in her agony of terror; staring round the room wildly as though in search +of some possible escape. + +"I must come in! I will come in!" said the voice again. + +"Oh don't let him in! Mamma! Don't let him in!" moaned the terrified +child upon her breast, clinging to her and weighing her down, and +grasping her neck and arm with convulsive strength. + +But in moments of great agitation timid people, or people who are thought +timid, not uncommonly do brave things. Mrs. Goddard unclasped Nellie's +hold and forced the terror-struck child into a deep chair. + +"Stay there, darling," she said with unnatural calmness. "Do not be +afraid. I will go and open the door." + +Nellie was now too much frightened to resist. Mrs. Goddard went out into +the little passage which was dimly lighted by a hanging lamp, and closed +the door of the drawing-room behind her. She could hear Nellie's +occasional convulsive sobs distinctly. For one moment she paused, her +right hand on the lock of the front door, her left hand pressed to her +side, leaning against the wall of the passage. Then she turned the key +and the handle and drew the door in towards her. A violent gust of wind, +full of cold and drenching rain, whirled into the passage and almost +blinded her. The lamp flickered in the lantern overhead. But she looked +boldly out, facing the wind and weather. + +"Come in!" she called in a low voice. + +Immediately there was a sound as of footsteps coming from the direction +of the drawing-room window, across the wet slate flags which surrounded +the cottage, and a moment afterwards, peering through the darkness, Mrs. +Goddard saw a man with a ghastly face standing before her in the rain. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +Mrs. Goddard's heart stood still as she looked at the wretched man, and +tried to discover her husband's face, even a resemblance to him, in the +haggard features she saw close before her. But he gave her small time for +reflection; so soon as he had recognised her he sprang past her into the +passage and pulling her after him closed the door. + +"Mary--don't you know me?" he said, in low tones. "You must save me--they +are after me--" He stood close beside her in the narrow way, beneath +the small lamp; he tried to put his arm around her and he bent down and +brought his ghastly face close to hers. But she drew back as from a +contamination. She was horrified, and it was a natural movement. She knew +his voice even better than his features, now that he spoke. He pressed +nearer to her and she thrust him back with her hands. Then suddenly a +thought struck her; she took him by the sleeve and led him into the +dining-room. There was no light there; she pushed him in. + +"Stay there one minute--" + +"No--no, you won't call--" + +"I will save you--there is--there is somebody in the drawing-room." +Before he could answer her she was gone, leaving him alone in the dark. +He listened intently, not venturing to leave the spot where she had +placed him; he thought he heard voices and footsteps, but no one came out +into the passage. It seemed an eternity to wait. At last she came, +bearing a lighted candle in her hand. She carefully shut the door of the +dining-room behind her and put the light upon the table. She moved like a +person in a dream. + +"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair. "Are you hungry?" His sunken +eyes sparkled. She brought food and ale and set them before him. He ate +and drank voraciously in silence. She sat at the opposite side of the +table--the solitary candle between them, and shading her eyes with one +hand she gazed at his face. + +Walter Goddard was a man at least forty years of age. He had been thought +very handsome once. He had light blue eyes and a fair skin with flaxen +hair--now cropped short and close to his head. There was nearly a +fortnight's growth of beard upon his face, but it was not yet sufficient +to hide his mouth and chin. He had formerly worn a heavy moustache and +it was chiefly the absence of it which now made it hard for his wife to +recognise him. A battered hat, drenched and dripping with rain, shaded +his brows. Possibly he was ashamed to remove it. His mouth was small and +weak and his jaw was pointed. His whole expression was singularly +disagreeable--his hands were filthy, and his face was not clean. About +his neck was twisted a ragged woollen comforter, and he wore a +smock-frock which was now soaked with water and clung to his thin figure. +He devoured the food his wife had brought him, shivering from time to +time as though he were still cold. + +Mrs. Goddard watched him in silence. She had done mechanically according +to her first instinct, had led him in and had given him food. But she had +not recovered herself sufficiently from her first horror and astonishment +to realise her situation. At last she spoke. + +"How did you escape?" she asked. He bent lower than before, over his +plate and would not look at her. + +"Don't ask me," he answered shortly. + +"Why did you do it?" she inquired again. Goddard laughed harshly; his +voice was hoarse and cracked. + +"Why did I do it!" he repeated. "Did you ever hear of any one who would +not escape from prison if he had the chance? Don't look at me like that, +Mary--" + +"I am sorry for you," she said. + +"You don't seem very glad to see me," he answered roughly. "I might have +known it." + +"Yes, you might have known it." + +It seemed a very hard and cruel thing to say, and Mary Goddard was very +far from being a cruel woman by nature; but she was stunned by fear and +disgust and horrified by the possibilities of harm suddenly brought +before her. + +Goddard pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows upon the table +supporting his chin in his hands. He scowled at her defiantly. + +"You have given me a warm reception, after nearly three years +of--separation." There was a bitter sneer in the word. + +"I am horrified to see you here," she said simply. "You know very well +that I cannot conceal you--" + +"Oh, I don't expect miracles," said Goddard contemptuously. "I don't know +that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly +agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved +husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--" + +"I will do what I can for you, Walter," said his wife, whose unnatural +calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation. + +"Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east," answered +the convict savagely. + +"I have not got fifty pounds in the house," protested Mary Goddard, in +some alarm. "I never keep much money--I can get it for you--" + +"I have a great mind to look," returned her husband suspiciously. "How +soon can you get it?" + +"To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--" + +"So you keep a banker's account?" + +"Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!" + +"Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once." Suddenly his voice +changed. "Oh, Mary--you used to love me!" cried the wretched man, burying +his face in his hands. + +"I was very wrong," answered his wife, looking away from him. "You did +not deserve it--you never did." + +"Because I was unfortunate!" + +"Unfortunate!" repeated Mary Goddard with rising scorn. +"Unfortunate--when you were deceiving me every day of your life. I could +have forgiven a great deal--Walter--but not that, not that!" + +"What? About the money?" he asked with sudden fierceness. + +"The money--no. Even though you were disgraced and convicted, Walter, I +would have forgiven that, I would have tried to see you, to comfort you. +I should have been sorry for you; I would have done what I could to help +you. But I could not forgive you the rest; I never can." + +"Bah! I never cared for her," said the convict. But under his livid skin +there rose a faint blush of shame. + +"You never cared for me--that is the reason I--am not glad to see you--" + +"I did, Mary. Upon my soul I did. I love you still!" He rose and came +near to his wife, and again he would have put his arm around her. But she +sprang to her feet with an angry light in her eyes. + +"If you dare to touch me, I will give you up!" she cried. Goddard shrank +back to his chair, very pale and trembling violently. + +"You would not do that, Mary," he almost whined. But she remained +standing, looking at him very menacingly. + +"Indeed I would--you don't know me," she said, between her teeth. + +"You are as hard as a stone," he answered, sullenly, and for some minutes +there was silence between them. + +"I suppose you are going to turn me out into the rain again?" asked the +convict. + +"You cannot stay here--you are not safe for a minute. You will have to +go. You must come back to-morrow and I will give you the money. You had +better go now--" + +"Oh, Mary, I would not have thought it of you," moaned Goddard. + +"Why--what else can I do? I cannot let you sleep in the house--I have no +barn. If any one saw you here it would be all over. People know about +it--" + +"What people?" + +"The vicar and his wife and Mr. Juxon at the Hall." + +"Mr. Juxon? What is he like? Would he give me up if he knew?" + +"I think he would," said Mary Goddard, thoughtfully. "I am almost sure he +would. He is the justice of the peace here--he would be bound to." + +"Do you know him?" Goddard thought he detected a slight nervousness in +his wife's manner. + +"Very well. This house belongs to him." + +"Oh!" ejaculated the convict. "I begin to see." + +"Yes--you see you had better go," said his wife innocently. "How can you +manage to come here tomorrow? You cannot go on without the money--" + +"No--and I don't mean to," he answered roughly. Money was indeed an +absolute necessity to him. "Give me what you have got in the house, +anyhow. You may think better of it to-morrow. I don't trust people of +your stamp." + +Mary Goddard rose without a word and left the room. When she was gone the +convict set himself to finish the jug of ale she had brought, and looked +about him. He saw objects that reminded him of his former home. He +examined the fork with which he had eaten and remembered the pattern and +the engraved initials as he turned it over in his hand. The very table +itself had belonged to his house--the carpet beneath his feet, the chair +upon which he sat. It all seemed too unnatural to be true. That very +night, that very hour, he must go forth again into the wild February +weather and hide himself, leaving all these things behind him; leaving +behind too his wife, the woman he had so bitterly injured, but who was +still his wife. It seemed impossible. Surely he might stay if he pleased; +it was not true that detectives were on his track--it was all a dream, +since that dreadful day when he had written that name, which was not his, +upon a piece of paper. He had waked up and was again at home. But he +started as he heard a footstep in the passage, being now accustomed to +start at sounds which suggested pursuit; he started and he felt the wet +smock-frock, which was his disguise, clinging to him as he moved, and the +reality of the present returned to him with awful force. His wife again +entered the room. + +"There are over nine pounds," she said. "It is all I have." She laid the +money upon the table before him and remained standing. "You shall have +the rest to-morrow," she added. + +"Can't I see Nellie?" he asked suddenly. It was the first time he had +spoken of his child. Mrs. Goddard hesitated. + +"No," she said at last. "You cannot see her now. She must not be told; +she thinks you are dead. You may catch a glimpse of her to-morrow--" + +"Well--it is better she should not know, I suppose. You could not +explain." + +"No, Walter, I could not--explain. Come later to-morrow night--to the +same window. I will undo the shutters and give you the money." Mary +Goddard was almost overcome with exhaustion. It was a terrible struggle +to maintain her composure under such circumstances; but necessity does +wonders. "Where will you sleep to-night?" she asked presently. She pitied +the wretch from her heart, though she longed to see him leave her house. + +"I will get into the stables of some public-house. I pass for a tramp." +There was a terrible earnestness in the simple statement, which did more +to make Mary Goddard realise her husband's position than anything else +could have done. To people who live in the country the word "tramp" means +so much. + +"Poor Walter!" said Mrs. Goddard softly, and for the first time since she +had seen him the tears stood in her eyes. + +"Don't waste your pity on me," he answered. "Let me be off." + +There was half a loaf and some cheese left upon the table. Mrs. Goddard +put them together and offered them to him. + +"You had better take it," she said. He took the food readily enough and +hid it under his frock. He knew the value of it. Then he got upon his +feet. He moved painfully, for the cold and the wet had stiffened his +limbs already weakened with hunger and exhaustion. + +"Let me be off," he said again, and moved towards the door. His wife +followed him in silence. In the passage he paused again. + +"Well, Mary," he said, "I suppose I ought to be grateful to you for not +giving me up to the police." + +"You know very well," answered Mrs. Goddard, "that what I can do to save +you, I will do. You know that." + +"Then do it, and don't forget the money. It's hanging this time if I'm +caught." + +Mrs. Goddard uttered a low cry and leaned against the wall. + +"What?" she faltered. "You have not--" + +"I believe I killed somebody in getting away," answered the felon with a +grim laugh. Then, without her assistance, he opened the door and went out +into the pouring rain. The door shut behind him and Mary Goddard heard +his retreating footsteps on the path outside. When he was fairly gone she +suddenly broke down, and falling upon her knees in the passage beat her +forehead against the wall in an agony of despair. + +Murderer--thief, forger and murderer, too! It was more than she could +bear. Even now he was within a stone's throw of her house; a moment ago +he had been here, beside her--there beyond, too, in the dining-room, +sitting opposite to her at her own table as he had sat in his days of +innocence and honour for many a long year before his crime. In the sudden +necessity of acting, in the unutterable surprise of finding herself again +face to face with him, she had been calm; now that he was gone she felt +as though she must go mad. She asked herself if this filthy tramp, this +branded villain, was the husband she had loved and cherished for years, +whose beauty she had admired, whose hand she had held so often, whose +lips she had kissed--if this was the father of her lovely child. It was +all over now. There was blood upon his hands as well as other guilt. If +he were caught he must die, or at the very least be imprisoned for life. +He could never again be free to come forth after the expiation of his +crimes and to claim her and his child. If he escaped now, it must be to +live in a distant country under a perpetual disguise. If he were caught, +the news of his capture would be in all the papers, the news of his trial +for murder, the very details of his execution. The Ambroses would know +and the squire, even the country folk, would perhaps at last know the +truth about her. Life even in the quiet spot she had chosen would become +intolerable, and she would be obliged to go forth again into a more +distant exile. She bitterly repented having written to her husband in his +prison to tell him where she was settled. It would have been sufficient +to acquaint the governor with the fact, so that Goddard might know where +she was when his term expired. She had never written but once, and he had +perhaps not been allowed to answer the letter. His appearance at her door +proved that he had received it. Would to God he had not, she thought. + +There were other things besides his crime of forgery which had acted far +more powerfully upon Mary Goddard's mind, and which had broken for ever +all ties of affection; circumstances which had appeared during his trial +and which had shown that he had not only been unfaithful to those who +trusted him, but had been unfaithful to the wife who loved him. That was +what she could not forgive; it was the memory of that which rose like an +impassable wall between her and him, worse than his frauds, his forgery, +worse almost than his murder. He had done that which even a loving woman +could not pardon, that which was past all forgiveness. That was why his +sudden appearance roused no tender memories, elicited seemingly so little +sympathy from her. She was too good a woman to say it, but she knew in +her heart that she wished him dead, the very possibility of ever seeing +him again gone from her life for ever, no matter how. + +But she must see him again, nevertheless, and to-morrow. To-morrow, too, +she would have to meet the squire, and appear to act and talk as though +nothing had happened in this terrible night. That would be the hardest of +all, perhaps; even harder than meeting her husband for a brief moment in +order to give him the means of escape. She felt that in helping him she +was participating in his crimes, and yet, she asked herself, what woman +would have acted differently? What woman, even though she might hate her +husband with her whole soul, and justly, would yet be so hard-hearted as +to refuse him assistance when he was flying for his life? It would be +impossible. She must help him at any cost; but it was hard to feel that +she must see the squire and behave with indifference, while her husband +was lurking in the neighbourhood, when a detective might at any moment +come to the door, and demand to search the house. + +These thoughts passed very quickly through her overwrought brain, as she +knelt in the passage; kneeling because she felt she could no longer +stand, the passionate tears streaming down her face, her small hands +pressing her temples. Then she struggled to her feet and dried her eyes, +steadying herself against the wall for a moment. She had almost forgotten +little Nellie whom she had left in the drawing-room. She had told the +child, when she went back to her, leaving Goddard alone in the dark, that +the man was a poor starving tramp, but that she did not want Nellie to +see him, because he looked so miserable. She would give him something to +eat and send him away, she said, and meanwhile Nellie should sit by the +drawing-room fire and wait for her. The child trusted her mother +implicitly and was completely reassured. Mrs. Goddard dried her eyes, +and re-entered the room. Nellie was curled up in a big chair with a book; +she looked up quickly. + +"Why, mamma," she said, "you have been crying!" + +"Have I, darling? I daresay it was the sight of that poor man. He was +very wretched." + +"Is he gone?" asked the child. + +It was unusually late and Nellie was beginning to be sleepy, so that she +was more easily quieted than she could have been in ordinary +circumstances. It might have struck her as strange that a wandering tramp +should know her mother's Christian name, as still more inexplicable that +her mother should have been willing to admit such a man at so late an +hour. She had been badly frightened, but trusting her mother as she did, +her terror had quickly disappeared and had been quickly followed by +sleepiness. + +But Mrs. Goddard. did not sleep that night. She felt as though she could +never sleep again, and for many hours she lay thinking of the new element +of fear which had so suddenly come into her life at the very time when +she believed herself to be safe for many years to come. She longed to +know where her wretched husband was; whether he had found shelter for the +night, whether he was still free or whether he had even then fallen into +the hands of his pursuers. She knew that she could not have concealed him +in the house and that she had done all that lay in her power for him. But +she started at every sound, as the rain rattled against the shutters and +the wind howled down the chimney. + +Walter Goddard, however, was safe for the present and was even +luxuriously lodged, considering his circumstances, for he was comfortably +installed amongst the hay in the barn of the "Feathers" inn. He had been +in Billingsfield since early in the afternoon and had considered +carefully the question of his quarters for the night. He had observed +from a distance the landlord of the said inn, and had boldly offered to +do a "day's work for a night's lodging." He said he was "tramping" his +way back from London to his home in Yorkshire; he knew enough of the +sound of the rough Yorkshire dialect to pass for a native of that county +amongst ignorant labourers who had never heard the real tongue. The +landlord of the Feathers consented to the bargain and Goddard was told +that he might sleep in the barn if he liked, and should take a turn at +cutting chaff the next day to pay for the convenience. The convict slept +soundly; he was past lying awake in useless fits of remorse, and he was +exhausted with his day's journey. Moreover he had now the immediate +prospect of obtaining sufficient money to carry him safely out of the +country, and once abroad he felt sure of baffling pursuit. He was an +accomplished man and spoke French with a fluency unusual in Englishmen; +he determined to get across the channel in some fishing craft; he would +then make his way to Paris and enlist in the Foreign Legion. It would be +safer than trying to go to America, where people were invariably caught +as they landed. It was a race for life and death, and he knew it. Had he +been able to obtain clothes, money and a disguise in London he would have +travelled by rail. But that had been impossible and it now seemed a wiser +plan to "tramp" it. His beard was growing rapidly and would soon make a +complete disguise. Village constables are generally simple people, easily +imposed upon, very different from London detectives; and hitherto he felt +sure that he had baffled pursuit by the mere simplicity of his +proceedings. The intelligent officials of Scotland Yard were used to +forgers and swindlers who travelled by express trains and crossed to +America by fashionable steamers. It did not strike them as very likely +that a man of Walter Goddard's previous tastes and habits could get +through the country in the guise of a tramp. If he had been possessed at +the time of his escape of the money he so much desired he would probably +have been caught; as it was, he got away without difficulty, and at the +very time when every railway station and every port in the kingdom were +being watched for him, he was lurking in the purlieus of Whitechapel, and +then tramping his way east in comparative safety, half starved, it is +true, but unmolested. + +That he was disappointed at the reception his wife had given him did not +prevent him from sleeping peacefully that night. One thing alone +disturbed him, and that was her mention of Mr. Juxon, in whose house, as +she had told him, she lived. It seems incredible that a man in Walter +Goddard's position, lost to every sense of honour, a criminal of the +worst type, who had deceived his wife before he was indicted for forgery, +who had certainly cared very little for her at any time, should now, in a +moment of supreme danger, feel a pang of jealousy on hearing that his +wife lived in the vicinity of the squire and occupied a house belonging +to him. But he was too bad himself not to suspect others, especially +those whom he had wronged, and the feeling was mingled with a strong +curiosity to know whether this woman, who now treated him so haughtily +and drew back from him as from some monstrous horror, was as good as she +pretended to be. He said to himself that on the next day at dawn he would +slip out of the barn and try whether he could not find some hiding-place +within easy reach of the cottage, so as to be able to watch her dwelling +at his ease throughout the day. The plan seemed a good one. Since he was +obliged to wait twenty-four hours in order to get the money he wanted, he +might as well employ the time profitably in observing his wife's habits. +It would be long, he said to himself with a bitter sneer, before he +troubled her again--he would just like to see. + +Having come to this decision he drew some of the hay over his body and in +spite of cold and wet was soon peacefully asleep. But at early dawn he +awoke with the alacrity of a man who constantly expects pursuit, and +slipped down from the hayloft into the barn. There was no one stirring +and he got over the fence at the back of the yard and skirted the fields +in the direction of the church, finally climbing another stile and +entering what he supposed to be the park. On this side the back of the +church ran out into a broad meadow, where the larger portion of the +ancient abbey had once stood. Goddard walked along close by the church +walls. He knew from his observation on the previous afternoon that he +could thus come out into the road in the vicinity of the cottage, unless +his way through the park were interrupted by impassable wire fences. The +ground was very heavy and he was sure not to meet anybody in the meadows +in such weather. + +Suddenly he stopped and looked at a buttress that jutted out from the +church and for the existence of which there seemed to be no ostensible +reason. He examined it and found that it was not a buttress but +apparently a half ruined chamber, which at some former period had been +built upon the side of the abbey. Low down by the ground there was a +hole, where a few stones seemed to have been removed and not replaced. +Goddard knelt down in the long wet grass and put in his head; then he +crept in on his hands and knees and presently disappeared. + +He found himself in a room about ten feet square, dimly lighted by a +small window at the top, and surrounded by long horizontal niches. The +floor, which was badly broken in some places, was of stone. Goddard +examined the place carefully. It was evidently an old vault of the kind +formerly built above ground for the lords of the manor; but the coffins, +if there had ever been any, had been removed elsewhere. Goddard laughed +to himself. + +"I might stay here for a year, if I could get anything to eat," he said +to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +The squire had grown used to the position in which he found himself after +Mary Goddard had told him her story. He continued his visits as formerly, +and it could hardly be said that there was any change in his manner +towards her; there was no need of any change, for even at the time when +he contemplated making her his wife there had been nothing lover-like +in his behaviour. He had been a friend and had treated her with all the +respect due to a lonely lady who was his tenant, and even with a certain +formality which had sometimes seemed unnecessary. But though there was no +apparent alteration in his mode of talking, in his habit of bringing her +flowers and books and of looking after the condition of the cottage, both +she and he were perfectly conscious of the fact that they understood each +other much better than before. They were united by the common bond of a +common secret which very closely concerned one of them. Things were not +as they had formerly been. Mrs. Goddard no longer felt that she had +anything to hide; the squire knew that he no longer had anything to hope. +If he had been a selfish man, if she had been a less sensible woman, +their friendship might have ended then and there. But Mr. Juxon was not +selfish, and Mary Goddard did not lack good sense. Having ascertained +that in the ordinary course of events there was no possibility of ever +marrying her, the squire did not at once give her over and go elsewhere; +on the contrary he showed himself more desirous than ever of assisting +her and amusing her. He was a patient man; his day might come yet, if +Goddard died. It did not follow that if he could not marry Mrs. Goddard +he must needs marry some one else; for it was not a wife that he sought, +but the companionship of this particular woman as his wife. If he could +not marry he could still enjoy at least a portion of that companionship, +by visiting her daily and talking with her, and making himself a part of +her life. He judged things very coldly and lost himself in no lofty +flights of imagination. It was better that he should enjoy what fell in +his way in at least seeing Mrs. Goddard and possessing her friendship, +than that he should go out of his course in order to marry merely for the +sake of marrying. He had seen so much of the active side of life that he +was well prepared to revel in the peace which had fallen to his lot. He +cared little whether he left an heir to the park; there were others of +the name, and since the park had furnished matter for litigation during +forty years before he came into possession of it, it might supply the +lawyers with fees for forty years more after his death, for all he cared. +It would have been very desirable to marry Mrs. Goddard if it had been +possible, but since the thing could not be done at present it was best to +submit with a good grace. Since the day when his suit had suddenly come +to grief in the discovery of her real position, Mr. Juxon had +philosophically said to himself that he had perhaps been premature in +making his proposal, and that it was as well that it could not have been +accepted; perhaps she would not have made him a good wife; perhaps he had +deceived himself in thinking that because he liked her and desired her +friendship he really wished to marry her; perhaps all was for the best in +the best of all possible worlds, after all and in spite of all. + +But these reflections, which tended to soothe the squire's annoyance at +the failure of a scheme which he had contemplated with so much delight, +did not prevent him from feeling the most sincere sympathy for Mrs. +Goddard, nor from constantly wishing that he could devise some plan for +helping her. She seemed never to have thought of divorcing herself from +her husband. The squire was not sure whether such a thing were possible; +he doubted it, and promised himself that he would get a lawyer's opinion +upon the matter. He believed that English law did not grant divorces on +account of the husband's being sentenced to any limited period of penal +servitude. But in any case it would be a very delicate subject to +approach, and Mr. Juxon amused himself by constructing conversations in +his mind which should lead up to this point without wounding poor Mrs. +Goddard's sensibilities. He was the kindest of men; he would not for +worlds have said a word which should recall to her that memorable day +when she had told him her story. And yet it would be quite impossible to +broach such a scheme without going at once into all the details of the +chief cause of her sorrows. The consequence was that in the windings of +his imagination the squire found himself perpetually turning in a vicious +circle; but since the exercise concerned Mrs. Goddard and her welfare it +was not uncongenial. He founded all his vague hopes upon one expression +she had used. When in making his proposal he had spoken of her as being a +widow, she had said, "Would to God that I were!" She had said it with +such vehemence that he had felt sure that if she had indeed been a widow +her answer to himself would have been favourable. Men easily retain such +impressions received in moments of great excitement, and found hopes upon +them. + +So the days had gone by and the squire had thought much but had come to +no conclusion. On the morning when Walter Goddard crept into the disused +vault at the back of the church, the squire awoke from his sleep at his +usual early hour. He was not in a very good humour, if so equable a man +could be said to be subject to such weaknesses as humours. The weather +was very depressing--day after day brought only more rain, more wind, +more mud, more of everything disagreeable. The previous evening had been +unusually dull. He was never weary of being with Mary Goddard, but +occasionally, when the Ambroses were present, the conversation became +oppressive. Mr. Juxon almost wished that John Short would come back and +cause a diversion. His views concerning John had undergone some change +since he had discovered that nobody could marry Mrs. Goddard because she +was married already. He believed he could watch John's efforts to attract +her attention with indifference now, or if without indifference with a +charitable forbearance. John at least would help to make conversation, +and the conversation on the previous evening had been intolerably +wearisome. Almost unconsciously, since the chief interest and hope of his +daily life had been removed the squire began to long for a change; he +had been a wanderer by profession during thirty years of his life and he +was perhaps not yet old enough to settle into that absolute indifference +to novelty which seems to characterise retired sailors. + +But as he brushed his smooth hair and combed his beard that morning, +neither change nor excitement were very far from him. He looked over his +dressing-glass at the leafless oaks of the park, at the grey sky and the +driving rain and he wished something would happen. He wished somebody +might die and leave a great library to be sold, that he might indulge +his favourite passion; he wished he had somebody stopping in the Hall--he +almost decided to send and ask the vicar to come to lunch and have a day +among the books. As he entered the breakfast-room at precisely half-past +eight o'clock, according to his wont, the butler informed him that Mr. +Gall, the village constable, was below and wanted to see him after +breakfast. He received the news in silence and sat down to eat his +breakfast and read the morning paper. Gall had probably come about some +petty summons, or to ask what he should do about the small boys who threw +stones at the rooks and broke the church windows. After finishing his +meal and his paper in the leisurely manner peculiar to country gentlemen +who have nothing to do, the squire rang the bell, sent for the policeman +and went into his study, a small room adjoining the library. + +Thomas Gall, constable, was a tall fair man with a mild eye and a +cheerful face. Goodwill towards men and plentiful good living had done +their work in eradicating from the good man all that stern element which +might have been most useful to him in his career, not to say useful to +the State. Each rolling year was pricked in his leathern belt with a new +hole as his heart grew more peaceful and his body throve. He had a goodly +girth and weighed full fifteen stone in his uniform; his mild blue eye +had inspired confidence in a maiden of Billingsfield parish and Mrs. Gall +was now rearing a numerous family of little Galls, all perhaps destined +to become mild-eyed and portly village constables in their turn. + +The squire, who was not destitute of a sense of humour, never thought of +Mr. Gall without a smile, so much out of keeping did the man's occupation +seem with his jovial humour. Mr. Gall, he said, was the kind of policeman +who would bribe a refractory tramp to move on by the present of a pint of +beer. But Gall had a good point. He was very proud of his profession, and +in the exercise of it he showed a discretion which, if it was the better +part of his valour, argued unlimited natural courage. It was a secret +profession, he was wont to say, and a man who could not keep a secret +would never do for a constable. He shrouded his ways in an amiable +mystery and walked a solitary beat on fine nights; when the nights were +not fine there was nobody to see whether he walked his beat or not. +Probably, he faithfully fulfilled his obligations; but his constitution +seemed to bear exposure to the weather wonderfully well. Whether he ever +saw anything worth mentioning upon those lonely walks of his, is +uncertain; at all events he never mentioned anything he saw, unless it +was in the secrecy of the reports he was supposed to transmit from time +to time to his superiors. + +On the present occasion as he entered the study, the squire observed with +surprise that he looked grave. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon +before and argued that it was just possible that something of real +importance might have occurred. + +"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Gall, approaching the squire respectfully, +after carefully closing the door behind him. + +"Good morning, Gall. Nothing wrong, I hope?" + +"Not yet, sir. I hope not, sir. Only a little matter of business, Mr. +Juxon. In point of fact, sir, I wished to consult you." + +"Yes," said the squire who was used to the constable's method of +circumlocution. "Yes--what is it?" + +"Well, sir--it's this," said the policeman, running his thumb round the +inside of his belt as though to test the pressure, and clearing his +throat. "There has been a general order sent down to be on the lookout, +sir. So I thought it would be best to take your opinion." + +"My opinion," said the squire with great gravity, "is that if you are +directed to be on the look-out, you should be on the look-out; by all +means. What are you to be on the look-out for?" + +"In point of fact, sir," said the constable, lowering his voice, "we are +informed that a criminal has escaped from Portland. I never heard of a +convict getting out of that strong'old o' the law, sir, and I would like +to have your opinion upon it." + +"But if you are informed that some one has escaped," remarked the squire, +"you had better take it for granted that it is true." + +"Juss so, sir. But the circumstances wasn't communicated to us, sir; so +we don't know." + +Mr. Gall paused, and the squire smoothed his hair a little. + +"Well, Gall," said Mr. Juxon, "have you any reason for believing that +this escaped convict is likely to come this way?" + +"Well sir, there is some evidence," answered the policeman, mysteriously. +"Leastways what seems like evidence to me, sir." + +"Of what kind?" the squire fixed his quiet eyes on Mr. Gall's face. + +"His name, sir. The name of the convict. There is a party of that name +residin' here." + +The squire suddenly guessed what was coming, or at least a possibility of +it crossed his mind. If Mr. Gall had been a more observant man he would +have seen that Mr. Juxon grew a shade paler and changed one leg over the +other as he sat. But in that moment he had time to nerve himself for the +worst. + +"And what is the name, if you please?" he asked calmly. + +"The name in the general orders is Goddard, sir--Walter Goddard. He was +convicted of forgery three years ago, sir, a regular bad lot. But +discretion is recommended in the orders, sir, as the business is not +wanted to get into the papers." + +The squire was ready. If Gall did not know that Mary Goddard was the wife +of the convict Walter, he should certainly not find it out. In any other +country of Europe that would have been the first fact communicated to the +local police. Very likely, thought Mr. Juxon, nobody knew it. + +"I do not see," he said very slowly, "that the fact of there being a Mrs. +Goddard residing here in the least proves that she is any relation to +this criminal. The name is not so uncommon as that, you know." + +"Nor I either, sir. In point of fact, sir, I was only thinking. It's what +you may call a striking coincidence, that's all." + +"It would have been a still more striking coincidence if his name had +been Juxon like mine, or Ambrose like the vicar's," said the squire +calmly. "There are other people of the name in England, and the local +policemen will be warned to be on the lookout. If this fellow was called +Juxon instead of Goddard, Gall, would you be inclined to think he was a +relation of mine?" + +"Oh no, sir. Ha! ha! Very good sir! Very good indeed! No indeed, sir, and +she such a real lady too!" + +"Well then, I do not see that you can do anything more than keep a sharp +look-out. I suppose they sent you some kind of description?" + +"Well, yes. There was a kind of a description as you say, sir, but I'm +not anyways sure of recognising the party by it. In point of fact, sir, +the description says the convict is a fair man." + +"Is that all?" + +"Neither particular tall, nor yet particular short, sir. Not a very big +'un nor a very little 'un, sir. In point of fact, sir, a fair man. Clean +shaved and close cropped he is, sir, being a criminal." + +"I hope you may recognise him by that account," said the squire, +suppressing a smile. "I don't believe I should." + +"Well, sir, it does say as he's a fair man," remarked the constable. + +"Supposing he blacked his face and passed for a chimney-sweep?" suggested +the squire. The idea seemed to unsettle Gall's views. + +"In that case, sir, I don't know as I should know him, for certain," he +answered. + +"Probably not--probably not, Gall. And judging from the account they have +sent you I don't think you would be to blame." + +"Leastways it can't be said as I've failed to carry out superior +instructions," replied Mr. Gall, proudly. "Then it's your opinion, sir, +that I'd better keep a sharp look-out? Did I understand you to say so, +sir?" + +"Quite so," returned the squire with great calmness. "By all means keep a +sharp look-out, and be careful to be discreet, as the orders instruct +you." + +"You may trust me for that, sir," said the policeman, who dearly loved +the idea of mysterious importance. "Then I wish you good morning, sir." +He prepared to go. + +"Good morning, Gall--good morning. The butler will give you some ale." + +Again Mr. Gall passed his thumb round the inside of his belt, testing the +local pressure in anticipation of a pint. He made a sort of half-military +salute at the door and went out. When the squire was alone he rose from +his chair and paced the room, giving way to the agitation he had +concealed in the presence of the constable. He was very much disturbed at +the news of Goddard's escape, as well he might be. Not that he was aware +that the convict knew of his wife's whereabouts; he did not even suppose +that Goddard could ascertain for some time where she was living, still +less that he would boldly present himself in Billingsfield. But it was +bad enough to know that the man was again at large. So long as he was +safely lodged in prison, Mrs. Goddard was herself safe; but if once he +regained his liberty and baffled the police he would certainly end by +finding out Mary's address and there was no telling to what annoyance, +to what danger, to what sufferings she might be exposed. Here was a new +interest, indeed, and one which promised to afford the squire occupation +until the fellow was caught. + +Mr. Juxon knew that he was right in putting the policeman off the track +in regard to Mrs. Goddard. He himself was a better detective than Gall, +for he went daily to the cottage and if anything was wrong there, was +quite sure to discover it. If Goddard ever made his way to Billingsfield +it could only be for the purpose of seeing his wife, and if he succeeded +in this, Mrs. Goddard could not conceal it from the squire. She was a +nervous woman who could not hide her emotions; she would find herself in +a terrible difficulty and she would perhaps turn to her friend for +assistance. If Mr. Juxon could lay his hands on Goddard, he flattered +himself he was much more able to arrest a desperate man than mild-eyed +Policeman Gall. He had not been at sea for thirty years in vain, and in +his time he had handled many a rough customer. He debated however upon +the course he should pursue. As in his opinion it was unlikely that +Goddard would find out his wife for some time, and improbable that he +would waste such precious time in looking for her, it seemed far from +advisable to warn her that the felon had escaped. On the other hand he +mistrusted his own judgment; if she were not prepared it was just +possible that the man should come upon her unawares, and the shock of +seeing him might be very much worse than the shock of being told that he +was at large. He might consult the vicar. + +At first, the old feeling that it would be disloyal to Mrs. Goddard even +to hint to Mr. Ambrose that he was acquainted with her story withheld him +from pursuing such a course. But as he turned the matter over in his mind +it seemed to him that since it was directly for her good, he would now be +justified in speaking. He liked the vicar and he trusted him. He knew +that the vicar had been a good friend to Mrs. Goddard and that he would +stand by her in any difficulty so far as he might be able. The real +question was how to make sure that the vicar should not tell his wife. If +Mrs. Ambrose had the least suspicion that anything unusual was occurring, +she would naturally try and extract information from her husband, and she +would probably be successful; women, the squire thought, very generally +succeed in operations of that kind. But if once Mr. Ambrose could be +consulted without arousing his wife's suspicions, he was a man to be +trusted. Thereupon Mr. Juxon wrote a note to the vicar, saying that he +had something of great interest to show him, and begging that, if not +otherwise engaged, he would come up to the Hall to lunch. When he had +despatched his messenger, being a man of his word, he went into the +library to hunt for some rare volume or manuscript which the vicar had +not yet seen, and which might account in a spirit of rigid veracity for +the excuse he had given. Meanwhile, as he turned over his rare and +curious folios he debated further upon his conduct; but having once made +up his mind to consult Mr. Ambrose, he determined to tell him boldly what +had occurred, after receiving from him a promise of secrecy. The +messenger brought back word that the vicar would be delighted to come, +and at the hour named the sound of wheels upon the gravel announced the +arrival of Strawberry, the old mare, drawing behind her the vicar and his +aged henchman, Reynolds, in the traditional vicarage dogcart. A moment +later the vicar entered the library. + +"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire inhospitable +tones. "I have something to show you and I have something to say to you." +The two shook hands heartily. Independently of kindred scholarly tastes, +they were sympathetic to each other and were always glad to meet. + +"It is just the weather for bookworms," answered the vicar in cheerful +tones. "Dear me, I never come here without envying you and wishing that +life were one long rainy afternoon." + +"You know I am inclined to think I am rather an enviable person," said +Mr. Juxon, slowly passing his hand over his glossy hair and leading his +guest towards a large table near the fire. Several volumes lay together +upon the polished mahogany. The squire laid his hand on one of them. + +"I have not deceived you," he said. "That is a very interesting volume. +It is the black letter Paracelsus I once spoke of. I have succeeded in +getting it at last." + +"Dear me! What a piece of fortune!" said Mr. Ambrose bending down until +his formidable nose almost touched the ancient page. + +"Yes," said the squire, "uncommonly lucky as usual. Now, excuse my +abruptness in changing the subject--I want to consult you upon an +important matter." + +The vicar looked up quickly with that vague, faraway expression which +comes into the eyes of a student when he is suddenly called away from +contemplating some object of absorbing interest. + +"Certainly," he said, "certainly--a--by all means." + +"It is about Mrs. Goddard," said the squire, looking hard at his visitor. +"Of course it is between ourselves," he added. + +The vicar's long upper lip descended upon its fellow and he bent his +rough grey eyebrows, returning Mr. Juxon's sharp look with interest. He +could not imagine what the squire could have to say about Mrs. Goddard, +unless, like poor John, he had fallen in love with her and wanted to +marry her; which appeared improbable. + +"What is it?" he said sharply. + +"I daresay you do not know that I am acquainted with her story," began +Mr. Juxon. "Do not be surprised. She saw fit to tell it me herself." + +"Indeed?" exclaimed the vicar in considerable astonishment. In that case, +he argued quickly, Mr. Juxon was not thinking of marrying her. + +"Yes--it is not necessary to go into that," said Mr. Juxon quickly. "The +thing I want to tell you is this--Goddard the forger has escaped--" + +"Escaped?" echoed the vicar in real alarm. "You don't mean to say so!" + +"Gall the constable came here this morning," continued Mr. Juxon. "He +told me that there were general orders out for his arrest." + +"How in the world did he get out?" cried the vicar. "I thought nobody was +ever known to escape from Portland!" + +"So did I. But this fellow has--somehow. Gall did not know. Now, the +question is, what is to be done?" + +"I am sure I don't know," returned the vicar, thrusting his hands into +his pockets and marching to the window, the wide skirts of his coat +seeming to wave with agitation as he walked. + +Mr. Juxon also put his hands into his pockets, but he stood still upon +the hearth-rug and looked at the ceiling, softly whistling a little tune, +a habit he had in moments of great anxiety. For three or four minutes +neither of the two spoke. + +"Would you tell Mrs. Goddard--or not?" asked Mr. Juxon at last. + +"I don't know," said the vicar. "I am amazed beyond measure." He turned +and slowly came back to the table. + +"I don't know either," replied the squire. "That is precisely the point +upon which I think we ought to decide. I have known about the story for +some time, but I did not anticipate that it would take this turn." + +"I think," said Mr. Ambrose after another pause, "I think that if there +is any likelihood of the fellow finding her out, we ought to tell her. If +not I think we had better wait until he is caught. He is sure to be +caught, of course." + +"I entirely agree with you," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only--how on earth are +we to find out whether he is likely to come here or not? If any one knows +where he is, he is as good as caught already. If nobody knows, we can +certainly have no means of telling." + +The argument was unanswerable. Again there was a long silence. The vicar +walked about the room in great perplexity. + +"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible business!" he repeated, over and over +again. + +"Do you think we are called upon to do anything?" he asked at last, +stopping in his walk immediately in front of Mr. Juxon. + +"If we can do anything to save Mrs. Goddard from annoyance or further +trouble, we are undoubtedly called upon to do it," replied the squire. +"If that wretch finds her out, he will try to break into the cottage at +night and force her to give him money." + +"Do you really think so? Dear me! I hope he will do no such thing!" + +"So do I, I am sure," said Mr. Juxon, with a grim smile. "But if he finds +her out, he will. I almost think it would be better to tell her in any +case." + +"But think of the anxiety she will be in until he is caught!" cried the +vicar. "She will be expecting him every day--every night. Well--I suppose +we might tell Gall to watch the house." + +"That will not do," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be a great injustice +to allow Gall or any of the people in the village to know anything about +her. She might be subjected to all kinds of insult. You know what these +people are. A 'real lady,' who is at the same time the wife of a convict, +is a thing they can hardly understand. I am sure both you and I secretly +flatter ourselves that we have shown an unusual amount of good sense and +generosity in understanding her position as we do." + +"I daresay we do," said the vicar with a smile. He was too honest to deny +it. "Indeed it took me some time to get used to the idea myself." + +"Precisely. The village people would never get used to it. Of all things +to do, we should certainly not tell Gall, who is an old woman and a great +chatterbox. I wish you could have heard his statement this morning--it +filled me with admiration for the local police, I assure you. But--I +think it would be better to tell her. I did not think so before you came, +I believe. But talking always brings the truth out." + +The vicar hesitated, rising and falling upon his toes and heels in +profound thought, after his manner. + +"I daresay you are right," he said at last. "Will you do it? Or shall I?" + +"I would rather not," said the squire, thoughtfully. "You know her +better, you have known her much longer than I." + +"But she will ask me where I heard of it," objected the vicar. "I shall +be obliged to say that you told me. That will be as bad as though you +told her yourself." + +"You need not say you heard it from me. You can say that Gall has +received instructions to look out for Goddard. She will not question you +any further, I am sure." + +"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Juxon," said the vicar. + +"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire, +almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little. + +"Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon. + +"Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose. + +"Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter, +you see." + +"Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!" + +"Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done." + +"Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that +his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office. + +"Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have +the matter decided. + +"Why not go together?" suggested the vicar. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the +poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs. +Ambrose--" + +"Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile. + +"Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did, +and was very much surprised at the result. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the +cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be +of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they +had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter +Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare +volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host +believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting +to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either. + +The weather had suddenly changed; the east was already clear and over the +west, where the sun was setting in a fiery mist, the huge clouds were +banked up against the bright sky, fringed with red and purple, but no +longer threatening rain or snow. The air was sharp and the plentiful mud +in the roads was already crusted with a brittle casing of ice. + +The squire took leave of Mr. Ambrose at the turning where the road led +into the village and then walked back to the cottage. Even his solid +nerves were a little unsettled at the prospect of the interview +before him; but he kept a stout heart and asked for Mrs. Goddard in his +usual quiet voice. Martha told him that Mrs. Goddard had a bad headache, +but on inquiry found that she would see the squire. He entered the +drawing-room softly and went forward to greet her; she was sitting in a +deep chair propped by cushions. + +Mary Goddard had spent a miserable day. The grey morning light seemed to +reveal her troubles and fears in a new and more terrible aspect. During +the long hours of darkness it seemed as though those things were +mercifully hidden which the strong glare of day must inevitably reveal, +and when the night was fairly past she thought all the world must surely +know that Walter Goddard had escaped and that his wife had seen him. +Hourly she expected a ringing at the bell, announcing the visit of a +party of detectives on his track; every sound startled her and her nerves +were strung to such a pitch that she heard with supernatural acuteness. +She had indeed two separate causes for fear. The one was due to her +anxiety for Goddard's safety; the other to her apprehensions for Nellie. +She had long determined that at all hazards the child must be kept from +the knowledge of her father's disgrace, by being made to believe in his +death. It was a falsehood indeed, but such a falsehood as may surely be +forgiven to a woman as unhappy as Mary Goddard. It seemed monstrous that +the innocent child, who seemed not even to have inherited her father's +looks or temper, should be brought up with the perpetual sense of her +disgrace before her, should be forced to listen to explanations of her +father's crimes and tutored to the comprehension of an inherited shame. +From the first Mary Goddard had concealed the whole matter from the +little girl, and when Walter was at last convicted, she had told her that +her father was dead. Dead he might be, she thought, before twelve years +were out, and Nellie would be none the wiser. In twelve years from the +time of his conviction Nellie would be in her twenty-first year; if it +were ever necessary to tell her, it would be time enough then, for the +girl would have at least enjoyed her youth, free of care and of the +horrible consciousness of a great crime hanging over her head. No child +could grow up in such a state as that implied. No mind could develop +healthily under the perpetual pressure of so hideous a secret; from her +earliest childhood her impressions would be warped, her imagination +darkened and her mental growth stunted. It would be a great cruelty to +tell her the truth; it was a great mercy to tell her the falsehood. It +was no selfish timidity which had prompted Mary Goddard, but a carefully +weighed consideration for the welfare of her child. + +If now, within these twenty-four hours, Nellie should discover who the +poor tramp was, who had frightened her so much on the previous evening, +all this would be at an end. The child's life would be made desolate for +ever. She would never recover from the shock, and to injure lovely Nellie +so bitterly would be worse to Mary Goddard than to be obliged to bear the +sharpest suffering herself. For, from the day when she had waked to a +comprehension of her husband's baseness, the love for her child had taken +in her breast the place of the love for Walter. + +She did not think connectedly; she did not realise her fears; she was +almost wholly unstrung. But she had procured the fifty pounds her husband +required and she waited for the night with a dull hope that all might yet +be well--as well as anything so horrible could be. If only her husband +were not caught in Billingsfield it would not be so bad, perhaps. And yet +it may be that her wisest course would have been to betray him that very +night. Many just men would have said so; but there are few women who +would do it. There are few indeed, so stonyhearted as to betray a man +once loved in such a case; and Mary Goddard in her wildest fear never +dreamed of giving up the fugitive. She sat all day in her chair, wishing +that the day were over, praying that she might be spared any further +suffering or that at least it might be spared to her child whom she so +loved. She had sent Nellie down to the vicarage with Martha. Mrs. Ambrose +loved Nellie better than she loved Nellie's mother, and there was a +standing invitation for her to spend the afternoons at the vicarage. +Nellie said her mother had a terrible headache and wanted to be alone. + +But when the squire came Mrs. Goddard thought it wiser to see him. She +had, of course, no intention of confiding to him an account of the events +of the previous night, but she felt that if she could talk to him for +half an hour she would be stronger. He was himself so strong and honest +that he inspired her with courage. She knew, also, that if she were +driven to the extremity of confiding in any one she would choose Mr. +Juxon rather than Mr. Ambrose. The vicar had been her first friend and +she owed him much; but the squire had won her confidence by his noble +generosity after she had told him her story. She said to herself that he +was more of a man than the vicar. And now he had come to her at the time +of her greatest distress, and she was glad to see him. + +Mr. Juxon entered the room softly, feeling that he was in the presence of +a sick person. Mrs. Goddard turned her pathetic face towards him and held +out her hand. + +"I am so glad to see you," she said, trying to seem cheerful. + +"I fear you are ill, Mrs. Goddard," answered the squire, looking at her +anxiously and then seating himself by her side. "Martha told me you had a +headache--I hope it is not serious." + +"Oh no--not serious. Only a headache," she said with a smile so unlike +her own that Mr. Juxon began to feel nervous. His resolution to tell her +his errand began to waver; it seemed cruel, he thought, to disturb a +person who was evidently so ill with a matter so serious. He remembered +that she had almost fainted on a previous occasion when she had spoken to +him of her husband. She had not been ill then; there was no knowing what +the effect of a shock to her nerves might be at present. He sat still in +silence for some moments, twisting his hat upon his knee. + +"Do not be disturbed about me," said Mrs. Goddard presently. "It will +pass very quickly. I shall be quite well to-morrow--I hope," she added +with a shudder. + +"I am very much disturbed about you," returned Mr. Juxon in an unusually +grave tone. Mrs. Goddard looked at him quickly, and was surprised when +she saw the expression on his face. He looked sad, and at the same time +perplexed. + +"Oh, pray don't be!" she exclaimed as though deprecating further remark +upon her ill health. + +"I wish I knew," said the squire with some hesitation, "whether--whether +you are really very ill. I mean, of course, I know you have a bad +headache, a very bad headache, as I can see. But--indeed, Mrs. Goddard, I +have something of importance to say." + +"Something of importance?" she repeated, staring hard at him. + +"Yes--but it will keep till to-morrow, if you would rather not hear it +now," he replied, looking at her doubtfully. + +"I would rather hear it now," she answered after some seconds of silence. +Her heart beat fast. + +"You were good enough some time ago to tell me about--Mr. Goddard," began +Mr. Juxon in woeful trepidation. + +"Yes," answered his companion under her breath. Her hands were clasped +tightly together upon her knees and her eyes sought the squire's +anxiously and then looked away again in fear. + +"Well, it is about him," continued Mr. Juxon in a gentle voice. "Would +you rather put it off? It is--well, rather startling." + +Mrs. Goddard closed her eyes, like a person expecting to suffer some +terrible pain. She thought Mr. Juxon was going to tell her that Walter +had been captured in the village. + +"Mr. Goddard has escaped," said the squire, making a bold plunge with the +whole truth. The sick lady trembled violently, and unclasping her hands +laid them upon the arms of her chair as though to steady herself to bear +the worse shock to come. But Mr. Juxon was silent. He had told her all he +knew. + +"Yes," she said faintly. "Is there anything--anything more?" Her voice +was barely audible in the still and dusky room. + +"No--except that, of course, there are orders out for his arrest, all +over the country." + +"He has not been arrested yet?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She had expected to +hear that he was caught; she thought the squire was trying to break the +shock of the news. Her courage rose a little now. + +"No, he is not arrested--but I have no doubt he soon will be," added Mr. +Juxon in a tone intended to convey encouragement. + +"How did you hear this?" + +"Gall the policeman, told me this morning. I--I am afraid I have +something else to confess to you, Mrs. Goddard, I trust you will not--" + +"What?" she asked so suddenly as to startle him. Walter might have been +heard of in the neighbourhood, perhaps. + +"I think I was right," continued Mr. Juxon. "I hope you will forgive me. +It does not seem quite loyal, but I did not know what to do. I consulted +the vicar as to whether we should tell you." + +"The vicar? What did he say?" Again Mrs. Goddard felt relieved. + +"He quite agreed with me," answered the squire. "You see we feared that +Mr. Goddard might find his way here and come upon you suddenly. We +thought you would be terribly pained and startled." + +Mrs. Goddard could almost have laughed at that moment. The excellent man +had taken all this trouble in order to save her from the very thing which +had already occurred on the previous night. There was a bitter humour in +the situation, in the squire's kind-hearted way of breaking to her that +news which she already knew so well, in his willingness to put off +telling her until the morrow. What would Mr. Juxon say, could he guess +that she had herself already spoken with her husband and had promised to +see him again that very night! Forgetting that his last words required an +answer, she leaned back in her chair and again folded her hands before +her. Her eyes were half closed and from beneath the drooping lids she +gazed through the gathering gloom at the squire's anxious face. + +"I hope you think I did right," said the latter in considerable doubt. + +"Quite right. I think you were both very kind to think of me as you did," +said she. + +"I am sure, I always think of you," answered Mr. Juxon simply. "I hope +that this thing will have no further consequences. Of course, until we +know of Mr. Goddard's whereabouts we shall feel very anxious. It seems +probable that if he can get here unobserved he will do so. He will +probably ask you for some money." + +"Do you really think he could get here at all?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She +wanted to hear what he would say, for she thought she might judge from +his words whether her husband ran any great risk. + +"Oh no," replied the squire. "I think it is very improbable. I fear this +news has sadly disturbed you, Mrs. Goddard, but let us hope all may turn +out for the best." Indeed he thought she showed very little surprise, +though she had evidently been much moved. Perhaps she had been accustomed +to expect that her husband might one day escape. She was ill, too, and +her nerves were unstrung, he supposed. + +She had really passed through a very violent emotion, but it had not been +caused by her surprise, but by her momentary fear for the fugitive, +instantly allayed by Mr. Juxon's explanation. She felt that for to-day at +least Walter was safe, and by to-morrow he would be safe out of the +neighbourhood. But she reflected that it was necessary to say something; +that if she appeared to receive the news too indifferently the squire's +suspicions might be aroused with fatal results. + +"It is a terrible thing," she said presently. "You see I am not at all +myself." + +It was not easy for her to act a part. The words were commonplace. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon, "I see you are not." He on his part, instead of +looking for a stronger expression of fear or astonishment, was now only +too glad that she should be so calm. + +"Would you advise me to do anything?" she asked presently. + +"There is nothing to be done," he answered quickly, glad of a chance to +relieve the embarrassment of the situation. "Of course we might put you +under the protection of the police but--what is the matter, Mrs. +Goddard?" She had started as though in pain. + +"Only this dreadful headache," she said. "Go on please." + +"Well, we might set Gall the policeman to watch your house; but that +would be very unpleasant for you. It would be like telling him and all +the village people of your situation--" + +"Oh don't! Please don't!" + +"No, certainly not. I think it very unwise. Besides--" he stopped short. +He was about to say that he felt much better able to watch over Mrs. +Goddard himself than Gall the constable could possibly be; but he checked +himself in time. + +"Besides--what?" she asked. + +"Nothing--Gall is not much of a policeman, that is all. I do not believe +you would be any the safer for his protection. But you must promise me, +my dear Mrs. Goddard, that if anything occurs you will let me know. I may +be of some assistance." + +"Thank you, so much," said she. "You are always so kind!" + +"Not at all. I am very glad if you think I was right to tell you about +it." + +"Oh, quite right," she answered. "And now, Mr. Juxon, I am really not at +all well. All this has quite unnerved me--" + +"You want me to go?" said the squire smiling kindly as he rose. "Yes, I +understand. Well, good-bye, my dear friend--I hope everything will +clear up." + +"Good-bye. Thank you again. You always do understand me," she answered +giving him her small cold hand. "Don't think me ungrateful," she added, +looking up into his eyes. + +"No indeed--not that there is anything to be grateful for." + +In a moment more he was gone, feeling that he had done his duty like a +man, and that it had not been so hard after all. He was glad it was done, +however, and he felt that he could face the vicar with a bold front at +their next meeting. He went quickly down the path and crossed the road to +his own gate with a light step. As he entered the park he was not aware +of a wretched-looking tramp who slouched along the quickset hedge and +watched his retreating figure far up the avenue, till he was out of sight +among the leafless trees. If Stamboul had been with the squire the tramp +would certainly not have passed unnoticed; but for some days the roads +had been so muddy that Stamboul had been left behind when Mr. Juxon made +his visits to the cottage, lest the great hound should track the mud into +the spotless precincts of the passage. The tramp stood still and looked +after the squire so long as he could see him, and then slunk off across +the wet meadows, where the standing water was now skimmed with ice. + +Walter Goddard had spent the day in watching for the squire and he had +seen him at last. He had seen him go down the road with the vicar till +they were both out of sight, and he had seen him come back and enter the +cottage. This proceeding, he argued, betrayed that the squire did not +wish to be seen going into Mary's house by the vicar. The tortuous +intelligences of bad men easily impute to others courses which they +themselves would naturally pursue. Three words on the previous evening +had sufficed to rouse the convict's jealousy. What he saw to-day +confirmed his suspicions. The gentleman in knickerbockers could be no +other than the squire himself, of course. He was evidently in the habit +of visiting Mary Goddard and he did not wish his visits to be observed by +the clergyman, who was of course the vicar or rector of the parish. That +proved conclusively in the fugitive's mind that there was something +wrong. He ground his teeth together and said to himself that it would be +worth while to run some risk in order to stop that little game, as he +expressed it. He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered +one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he +had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be +caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex. It would be a great +satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther. +Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at +the back of the church. He discovered loose stones inside the place which +he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance. +Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very +existence of the vault was most likely forgotten. It was not a cheerful +place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach +of supernatural fears. Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the +future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present. The vault +was comparatively dry and was in every way preferable, as a resting-place +for one night, to the interior of a mouldy haystack in the open fields. +He did not dare show himself again at the "Feathers" inn, lest he should +be held to do the day's work he had promised in payment for his night in +the barn. All that morning and afternoon he had lain hidden in the +quickset hedge near the park gate, within sight of the cottage, and he +had been rewarded. The food he had taken with him the night before had +sufficed him and he had quenched his thirst with rain-water from the +ditch. Having seen that the squire went back towards the Hall, Goddard +slunk away to his hiding-place to wait for the night. He lay down as best +he might, and listened for the hours and half-hours as the church clock +tolled them out from the lofty tower above. + +Mary Goddard had told him to come later than before, and it was after +half-past ten when he tapped upon the shutter of the little drawing-room. +All was dark within, and he held his breath as he stood among the wet +creepers, listening intently for the sound of his wife's coming. +Presently the glass window inside was opened. + +"Is that you?" asked Mary's voice in a tremulous whisper. + +"Yes," he answered. "Let me in." Then the shutter was cautiously +unfastened and opened a little and in the dim starlight Goddard +recognised his wife's pale face. Her hand went out to him, with something +in it. + +"There is the money," she whispered. "Go as quickly as you can. They are +looking for you--there are orders out to arrest you." + +Goddard seized her fingers and took the money. She would have withdrawn +her hand but he held it firmly. + +"Who told you that they were after me?" he asked in a fierce whisper. + +"Mr. Juxon--let me go." + +"Mr. Juxon!" The convict uttered a rough oath. "Your friend Mr. Juxon, +eh? He is after me, is he? Tell him--" + +"Hush, hush!" she whispered. "He has no idea you are here--" + +"I should think not," muttered Walter. "He would not be sneaking in here +on the sly to see you if he knew I were about!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Mary. "Oh, Walter, let me go--you hurt me so!" +He held her fingers as in a vice. + +"Hurt you! I wish I could strangle you and him too! Ha, you thought I was +not looking this afternoon when he came! He went to the corner of the +road with the parson, and when the parson was out of sight he came back! +I saw you!" + +"You saw nothing!" answered his wife desperately. "How can you say so! If +you knew how kind he has been, what a loyal gentleman he is, you would +not dare to say such things." + +"You used to say I was a loyal gentleman, Mary," retorted the convict. "I +daresay he is of the same stamp as I. Look here, Mary, if I catch this +loyal gentleman coming here any more I will cut his throat--so look out!" + +"You do not mean to say you are going to remain here any longer, in +danger of your life?" said Mary in great alarm. + +"Well--a man can only hang once. Give me some more of that bread and +cheese, Mary. It was exceedingly good." + +"Then let me go," said his wife, trembling with horror at the threat she +had just heard. + +"Oh yes. I will let you go. But I will just hold the window open in case +you don't come back soon enough. Look sharp!" + +There was no need to hurry the unfortunate woman. In less than three +minutes she returned, bringing a "quartern" loaf and a large piece of +cheese. She thrust them out upon the window-sill and withdrew her hand +before he could catch it. But he held the window open. + +"Now go!" she said. "I cannot do more for you--for God's sake go!" + +"You seem very anxious to see the last of me," he whispered. "I daresay +if I am hanged you will get a ticket to see me turned off. Yes--we +mention those things rather freely up in town. Don't be alarmed. I will +come back to-morrow night--you had better listen. If you had shown a +little more heart, I would have been satisfied, but you are so stony that +I think I would like another fifty pounds to-morrow night. Those notes +are so deliciously crisp--" + +"Listen, Walter!" said Mary. "Unless you promise to go I will raise an +alarm at once. I can face shame again well enough. I will have you--hush! +For God's sake--hush! There is somebody coming!" + +The convict's quick ear had caught the sound. Instantly he knelt and then +lay down at full length upon the ground below the window. It was a fine +night and the conscientious Mr. Gall was walking his beat. The steady +tramp of his heavy shoes had something ominous in it which struck terror +into the heart of the wretched fugitive. With measured tread he came from +the direction of the village. Reaching the cottage he paused and dimly in +the starlight Mrs. Goddard could distinguish his glazed hat--the +provincial constabulary still wore hats in those days. Mr. Gall stood not +fifteen yards from the cottage, failed to observe that a window was +open on the lower floor, nodded to himself as though satisfied with his +inspection and walked on. Little by little the sound of his steps grew +fainter in the distance. Walter slowly raised himself again from the +ground, and put his head in at the window. + +"You see it would not be hard to have you caught," whispered his wife, +still breathless with the passing excitement. "That was the policeman. If +I had called him, it would have been all over with you. I tell you if you +try to come again I will give you up." + +"Oh, that's the way you treat me, is it?" said the convict with another +oath. "Then you had better look out for your dear Mr. Juxon, that's all." + +Without another word, Goddard glided away from the window, let himself +out by the wicket gate and disappeared across the road. + +Mary Goddard was in that moment less horrified by her husband's threat +than by his base ingratitude to herself and by the accusation he seemed +to make against her. Worn out with the emotions of fear and anxiety, she +had barely the strength to close and fasten the window. Then she sank +into the first chair she could find in the dark and stared into the +blackness around her. It seemed indeed more than she could bear. She was +placed in the terrible position of being obliged to betray her fugitive +husband, or of living in constant fear lest he should murder the best +friend she had in the world. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +On the morning after the events last described Mr. Ambrose sat at +breakfast opposite his wife. The early post had just arrived, bringing +the usual newspaper and two letters. + +"Any news, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with great suavity, as she +rinsed her teacup in the bowl preparatory to repeating the dose. "Is not +it time that we should hear from John?" + +"There is a letter from him, strange to say. Wait a minute--my dear, the +Tripos is over and he wants to know if he may stop here--" + +"The Tripos over already! How has he done? Do tell me, Augustin!" + +"He does not know," returned the vicar, quickly looking over the +contents of the letter. "The lists are not out--he thinks he has done +very well--he has had a hint that he is high up--wants to know whether he +may stop on his way to London--he is going to see his father--" + +"Of course he shall come," said Mrs. Ambrose with enthusiasm. "He must +stop here till the lists are published and then we shall know--anything +else?" + +"The other is a note from a tutor of his side--my old friend Brown--he is +very enthusiastic; says it is an open secret that John will be at the +head of the list--begins to congratulate. Well, my dear, this is very +satisfactory, very flattering." + +"One might say very delightful, Augustin." + +"Delightful, yes quite delightful," replied the vicar, burying his long +nose in his teacup. + +"I only hope it may be true. I was afraid that perhaps John had done +himself harm by coming here at Christmas. Young men are so very +light-headed, are they not, Augustin?" added Mrs. Ambrose with a prim +smile. On rare occasions she had alluded to John's unfortunate passion +for Mrs. Goddard, and when she spoke of the subject she had a tendency to +assume something of the stiffness she affected towards strangers. As has +been seen she had ceased to blame Mrs. Goddard. Generally speaking the +absent are in the wrong in such matters; she could not refer to John's +conduct without a touch of severity. But the Reverend Augustin bent his +shaggy brows; John was now successful, probably senior classic--it was +evidently no time to censure his behaviour. + +"You must be charitable, my dear," he said, looking sharply at his wife. +"We have all been young once you know." + +"Augustin, I am surprised at you!" said Mrs. Ambrose sternly. + +"For saying that I once was young?" inquired her husband. "Strange and +paradoxical as such a statement must appear, I was once a baby." + +"I think your merriment very unseemly," objected Mrs. Ambrose in a tone +of censure. "Because you were once a baby it does not follow that you +ever acted in such a very foolish way about a--" + +"My dear," interrupted the vicar, handing his cup across the table, "I +wish you would leave John alone, and give me another cup of tea. John +will be here to-morrow. Let us receive him as we should. He has done us +credit." + +"He will never be received otherwise in this house, Augustin," replied +Mrs. Ambrose, "whether you allow me to speak my mind or not. I am aware +that Short has done us credit, as you express it. I only hope he always +may do us credit in the future. I am sure, I was like a mother to him. He +ought never to forget it. Why, my dear, cannot you remember how I always +had his buttons looked to and gave him globules when he wanted them? I +think he might show some gratitude." + +"I do not think he has failed to show it," retorted the vicar. + +"Oh, well, Augustin, if you are going to talk like that it is not +possible to argue with you; but he shall be welcome, if he comes. I hope, +however, that he will not go to the cottage--" + +"My dear, I have a funeral this morning. I wish you would not disturb my +mind with these trifles." + +"Trifles! Who is dead? You did not tell me." + +"Poor Judd's baby, of course. We have spoken of it often enough, I am +sure." + +"Oh yes, of course. Poor Tom Judd!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambrose with genuine +sympathy. "It seems to me you are always burying his babies, Augustin! +It is very sad." + +"Not always, my dear. Frequently," said the vicar correcting her. "It is +very sad, as you say. Very sad. You took so much trouble to help them +this time, too." + +"Trouble!" Mrs. Ambrose cast up her eyes. "You don't know how much +trouble. But I am quite sure it was the fault of that brazen-faced +doctor. I cannot bear the sight of him! That comes of answering +advertisements in the newspapers." + +The present doctor had bought the practice abandoned by Mrs. Ambrose's +son-in-law. He had paid well for it, but his religious principles had not +formed a part of the bargain. + +"It is of no use to cry over spilt milk, my dear." + +"I do not mean to. No, I never do. But it is very unpleasant to have such +people about. I really hope Tom Judd will not lose his next baby. When +is John coming?" + +"To-morrow. My dear, if I forget it this morning, will you remember to +speak to Reynolds about the calf?" + +"Certainly, Augustin," said his wife. Therewith the good vicar left her +and went to bury Tom Judd's baby, divided in his mind between rejoicing +over his favourite pupil's success and lamenting, as he sincerely did, +the misfortunes which befell his parishioners. When he left the +churchyard an hour later he was met by Martha, who came from the cottage +with a message begging that the vicar would come to Mrs. Goddard as soon +as possible. Martha believed her mistress was ill, she wanted to see Mr. +Ambrose at once. Without returning to the vicarage he turned to the left +towards the cottage. + +Mrs. Goddard had slept that night, being exhausted and almost broken down +with fatigue. But she woke only to a sense of the utmost pain and +distress, realising that to-day's anxiety was harder to bear than +yesterday's, and that to-morrow might bring forth even worse disasters +than those which had gone before. Her position was one of extreme doubt +and peril. To tell any one that her husband was in the neighbourhood +seemed to be equivalent to rooting out the very last remnant of +consideration for him which remained in her heart, the very last trace of +what had once been the chief joy and delight of her life. She hesitated +long. There is perhaps nothing in human nature more enduring than the +love of man and wife; or perhaps one should rather say than the love of a +woman for her husband. There appear to be some men capable of being so +completely estranged from their wives that there positively does not +remain in them even the faintest recollection of what they have once +felt, nor the possibility of feeling the least pity for what the women +they once loved so well may suffer. There is no woman, I believe, who +having once loved her husband truly, could see him in pain or distress, +or in danger of his life, without earnestly endeavouring to help him. A +woman may cease to love her husband; in some cases she is right in +forgetting her love, but it would be hard to find a case where, were he +the worst criminal alive, had he deceived her a thousand times, she would +not at least help him to escape from his pursuers or give him a crust to +save him from starvation. + +Mary Goddard had done her best for the wretch who had claimed her +assistance. She had fed him, provided him with money, refused to betray +him. But if it were to be a question of giving him up to the law, or of +allowing her best friend to be murdered by him, or even seriously +injured, she felt that pity must be at an end. It would be doubtless a +very horrible thing to give him up, and she had gathered from what he had +said that if he were taken he would pay the last penalty of the law. It +was so awful a thing that she groaned when she thought of it. But she +remembered his ghastly face in the starlight and the threat he had hissed +out against the squire; he was a desperate man, with blood already on his +hands. It was more than likely that he would do the deed he had +threatened to do. What could be easier than to watch the squire on one of +those evenings when he went up the park alone, to fall upon him and take +his life? Of late Mr. Juxon did not even take his dog with him. The +savage bloodhound would be a good protector; but even when he took +Stamboul with him by day, he never brought him at night. It was too long +for the beast to wait, he used to say, from six to nine or half past; he +was so savage that he did not care to leave him out of his sight; he +brought mud into the cottage, or into the vicarage as the case might +be--if Stamboul had been an ordinary dog it would have been different. +Those Russian bloodhounds were not to be trifled with. But the squire +must be warned of his danger before another night came on. + +It was a difficult question. Mrs. Goddard at first thought of telling him +herself; but she shrank from the thought, for she was exhausted and +overwrought. A few days ago she would have been brave enough to say +anything if necessary, but now she had no longer the courage nor the +strength. It seemed so hard to face the squire with such a warning; it +seemed as though she were doing something which would make her seem +ungrateful in his eyes, though she hardly knew why it seemed so. She +turned more naturally to the vicar, to whom she had originally come in +her first great distress; she had only once consulted him, but that one +occasion seemed to establish a precedent in her mind, the precedent of a +thing familiar. It would certainly be easier. After much thought and +inward debate, she determined to send for Mr. Ambrose. + +The fatigue and anxiety she had undergone during the last two days had +wrought great changes in her face. A girl of eighteen or twenty years may +gain delicacy and even beauty from the physical effects of grief, but a +woman over thirty years old gains neither. Mrs. Goddard's complexion, +naturally pale, had taken a livid hue; her lips, which were never very +red, were almost white; heavy purple shadows darkened her eyes; the two +or three lines that were hardly noticeable, but which were the natural +result of a sad expression in her face, had in two days become distinctly +visible and had almost assumed the proportions of veritable wrinkles. Her +features were drawn and pinched--she looked ten years older than she was. +Nothing remained of her beauty but her soft waving brown hair and her +deep, pathetic, violet eyes. Even her small hands seemed to have grown +thin and looked unnaturally white and transparent. + +She was sitting in her favourite chair by the fire, when the vicar +arrived. She had not been willing to seem ill, in spite of what Martha +had said, and she had refused to put cushions in the chair. She was +making an effort, and even a little sense of physical discomfort helped +to make the effort seem easier. She was so much exhausted that she felt +she must not for one moment relax the tension she imposed upon herself +lest her whole remaining strength should suddenly collapse and leave her +at the mercy of events. But Mr. Ambrose was startled when he saw her and +feared that she was very ill. + +"My dear Mrs. Goddard," he said, "what is the matter? Are you ill? Has +anything happened?" + +As he spoke he changed the form of his question, suddenly recollecting +that Mr. Juxon had probably on the previous afternoon told her of her +husband's escape, as he had meant to do. This might be the cause of her +indisposition. + +"Yes," she said in a voice that did not sound like her own, "I have asked +you to come because I am in great trouble--in desperate trouble." + +"Dear me," said the vicar, "I hope not!" + +"Not desperate? Perhaps not. Dear Mr. Ambrose, you have always been so +kind to me--I am sure you can help me now." Her voice trembled. + +"Indeed I will do my best," said the vicar who judged from so unusual an +outburst that there must be really something wrong. "If you could tell me +what it is--" he suggested. + +"That is the hardest part of it," said the unhappy woman. She paused a +moment as though to collect her strength. "You know," she began again, +"that my husband has escaped?" + +"A terrible business!" exclaimed the good man, nodding, however, in +affirmation to the question she asked. + +"I have seen him," said Mary Goddard very faintly, looking down at her +thin hands. The vicar started in astonishment. + +"My dear friend--dear me! Dear, dear, how very painful!" + +"Indeed, you do not know what I have suffered. It is most dreadful, Mr. +Ambrose. You cannot imagine what a struggle it was. I am quite worn out." + +She spoke with such evident pain that the vicar was moved. He felt that +she had more to tell, but he had hardly recovered from his surprise. + +"But, you know," he said, "that was the whole object of warning you. We +did not really believe that he would come here. We were so much afraid +that he would startle you. Of course Mr. Juxon told you he consulted +me--" + +"Of course," answered Mrs. Goddard. "It was too late. I had seen him the +night before." + +"Why, that was the very night we were here!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, more +and more amazed. Mrs. Goddard nodded. She seemed hardly able to speak. + +"He came and knocked at that window," she said, very faintly. "He came +again last night." + +"Dear me--I will send for Gall at once; he will have no difficulty in +arresting him--" + +"Oh please!" interrupted Mrs. Goddard in hysterical tones. "Please, +please, dear Mr. Ambrose, don't!" + +The vicar was silent. He rose unceremoniously from his chair and walked +to the window, as he generally did when in any great doubt. He realised +at once and very vividly the awful position in which the poor lady was +placed. + +"Pray do not think I am very bad," said she, almost sobbing with fear and +emotion. "Of course it must seem dreadful to you that I should wish him +to escape!" + +The vicar came slowly back and stood beside her leaning against the +chimney-piece. It did not take him long to make up his mind. Kind-hearted +people are generally impulsive. + +"I do not, my dear lady. I assure you I fully understand your position. +The fact is, I was too much surprised and I am too anxious for your +safety not to think immediately of securing that--ahem--that unfortunate +man." + +"Oh, it is not my safety! It is not only my safety--" + +"I understand--yes--of course you are anxious about him. But it is +doubtless not our business to aid the law in its course, provided we do +not oppose it." + +"It is something else," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "Oh! how shall I tell +you," she moaned turning her pale cheek to the back of the chair. + +The vicar looked at her and began to think it was perhaps some strange +case of conscience with which he had to deal. He had very little +experience of such things save in the rude form they take among the +labouring classes. But he reflected that it was likely to be something of +the kind; in such a case Mrs. Goddard would naturally enough have sent +for him, more as her clergyman than as her friend. She looked like a +person suffering from some great mental strain. He sat down beside her +and took her passive hand. He was moved, and felt as though he might have +been her father. + +"My dear," he said kindly, almost as though he were speaking to a child, +"have you anything upon your mind, anything which distresses you? Do you +wish to tell me? If so I will do my very best to help you." + +Mrs. Goddard's fingers pressed his hand a little, but her face was still +turned away. + +"It is Mr. Juxon," she almost whispered. If she had been watching the +vicar she would have noticed the strange air of perplexity which came +over his face when he heard the squire's name. + +"Yes--Mr. Juxon," she moaned. Then the choked-down horror rose in her +throat. "Walter means to murder him!" she almost screamed. "Oh, my God, +my God, what shall I do!" she cried aloud clasping her hands suddenly +over her face and rocking herself to and fro. + +The vicar was horror-struck; he could hardly believe his ears, and +believing them his senses swam. In his wildest dreams--and the good man's +dreams were rarely wild--he had never thought that such things could come +near him. Being a very good man and, moreover, a wise man when he had +plenty of time for reflection, he folded his hands quietly and bent his +head, praying fervently for the poor tortured woman who moaned and tossed +herself beside him. It was a terrible moment. Suddenly she controlled +herself and grasping one of the arms of the chair looked round at her +silent companion. + +"You must save him," she said in agonised tones, "you must save them +both! Do not tell me you cannot--oh, do not tell me that!" + +It was a passionate and heart-broken appeal, such a one as few men would +or could resist, coming as it did from a helpless and miserably unhappy +woman. Whether the vicar was wise in giving the answer he did, it would +be hard to say: but he was a man who honestly tried to do his best. + +"I will try, my dear lady," he said, making a great resolution. Mrs. +Goddard took his hand and pressed it in both of hers, and the long +restrained tears flowed fast and softly over her worn cheeks. For some +moments neither spoke. + +"If you cannot save both--you must save--Mr. Juxon," she said at last, +breathing the words rather than speaking them. + +The vicar knew or guessed what it must cost her to hint that her husband +might be captured. He recognised that the only way in which he could +contribute towards the escape of the convict was by not revealing his +hiding-place, and he accordingly refrained from asking where he was +concealed. He shuddered as he thought that Goddard might be lying hidden +in the cottage itself, for all he could tell, but he was quite sure that +he ought not to know it. So long as he did not know where the forger was, +it was easy to hold his peace; but if once he knew, the vicar was not +capable of denying the knowledge. He had never told a lie in his life. + +"I will try," he repeated; and growing calmer, he added, "You are +quite sure this was not an empty threat, my dear friend? Was there any +reason--a--I mean to say, had this unfortunate man ever known Mr. Juxon?" + +"Oh no!" answered Mrs. Goddard, sinking back into her chair. "He never +knew him." Her tears were still flowing but she no longer sobbed aloud; +it had been a relief to her overwrought and sensitive temperament to give +way to the fit of weeping. She actually felt better, though ten minutes +earlier she would not have believed it possible. + +"Then--why?" asked Mr. Ambrose, hesitating. + +"My poor husband was a very jealous man," she answered. "I accidentally +told him that the cottage belonged to Mr. Juxon and yesterday--do you +remember? You walked on with Mr. Juxon beyond the turning, and then he +came back to see me--to tell me of my husband's escape. Walter saw that +and--and he thought, I suppose--that Mr. Juxon did not want you to see +him coming here." + +"But Mr. Juxon had just promised me to go and see you," said the honest +vicar. + +"Yes," said poor Mrs. Goddard, beginning to sob again, "but Walter--my +husband--thinks that I--I care for Mr. Juxon--he is so jealous," cried +she, again covering her face with her hands. The starting tears trickled +through her fingers and fell upon her black dress. She was ashamed, this +time, for she hated even to speak of such a possibility. + +"I understand," answered Mr. Ambrose gravely. It certainly did not strike +him that it might be true, and his knowledge of such characters as Walter +Goddard was got chiefly from the newspapers. He had often noticed in +reports of trials and detailed descriptions of crimes that criminals seem +to become entirely irrational after a certain length of time, and it was +one of the arguments he best understood for demonstrating that bad men +either are originally, or ultimately become mad. To men like the vicar, +almost the only possible theory of crime is the theory of insanity. It is +positively impossible for a man who has passed thirty or forty years in a +quiet country parish to comprehend the motives or the actions of great +criminals. He naturally says they must be crazy or they would not do such +things. If Goddard were crazy enough to commit a forgery, he was crazy +enough for anything, even to the extent of suspecting that his wife loved +the squire. + +"I think," said Mr. Ambrose, "that if you agree with me it will be best +to warn Mr. Juxon of his danger." + +"Of course," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "You must warn him at once!" + +"I will go to the Hall now," said the vicar bravely. "But--I am very +sorry to have to dwell on the subject, my dear lady, but, without wishing +in the least to know where the--your husband is, could you tell me +anything about his appearance? For instance, if you understand what I +mean, supposing that Mr. Juxon knew how he looked and should happen to +meet him, knowing that he wished to kill him--he might perhaps avoid him, +if you understand me?" + +The vicar's English was a little disturbed by his extreme desire not to +hurt Mrs. Goddard's feelings. If the squire and his dog chanced to meet +Walter Goddard they would probably not avoid him as the vicar expressed +it; that was a point Mr. Ambrose was willing to leave to Mrs. Goddard's +imagination. + +"Yes--must you know?" she asked anxiously. + +"We must know that," returned the vicar. + +"He is disguised as a poor tramp," she said sorrowfully. "He wears a +smock-frock and an old hat I think. He is pale--oh, poor, poor Walter!" +she cried again bursting into tears. + +Mr. Ambrose could say nothing. There was nothing to be said. He rose and +took his hat--the old tall hat he wore to his parishioners' funerals. +They were very primitive people in Billingsfield. + +"I will go at once," he said. "Believe me, you have all my sympathy--I +will do all I can." + +Mary Goddard thanked him more by her looks than with any words she was +able to speak. But she was none the less truly grateful for his sympathy +and aid. She had a kind of blind reliance on him which made her feel that +since she had once confided her trouble and danger nothing more could +possibly be done. When he was gone, she sobbed with relief, as before she +had wept for fear; she was hysterical, unstrung, utterly unlike herself. + +But as the vicar went up towards the Hall he felt that he had his hands +full, and he felt moreover an uneasy sensation which he could not have +explained. He was certainly no coward, but he had never been in such a +position before and he did not like it; there was an air of danger about, +an atmosphere which gave him a peculiarly unpleasant thrill from time to +time. He was not engaged upon an agreeable errand, and he had a vague +feeling, due, the scientists would have told him, to unconscious +ratiocination, which seemed to tell him that something was going to +happen. People who are very often in danger know that singular uneasiness +which warns them that all is not well; it is not like anything else that +can be felt. No one really knows its cause, unless it be true that the +mind sometimes reasons for itself without the consciousness of the body, +and communicates to the latter a spasmodic warning, the result of its +cogitations. + +To say to the sturdy squire, "Beware of a man in a smock-frock, one +Goddard the forger, who means to murder you," seemed of itself simple +enough. But for the squire to distinguish this same Goddard from all +other men in smock-frocks was a less easy matter. The vicar, indeed, +could tell a strange face at a hundred yards, for he knew every man, +woman and child in his parish; but the squire's acquaintance was more +limited. Obviously, said Mr. Ambrose to himself, the squire's best course +would be to stay quietly at home until the danger was passed, and to pass +word to Policeman Gall to lay hands on any particularly seedy-looking +tramps he happened to see in the village. It was Gall's duty to do so in +any case, as he had been warned to be on the look-out. Mr. Ambrose +inwardly wondered where the man could be hiding. Billingsfield was not, +he believed, an easy place to hide in, for every ploughman knew his +fellow, and a new face was always an object of suspicion. Not a gipsy +tinker entered the village but what every one heard of it, and though +tramps came through from time to time, it would be a difficult matter for +one of them to remain two days in the place without attracting a great +deal of attention. It was possible that Walter Goddard might have been +concealed for one night in his wife's house, but even there he could not +have remained hidden for two days without being seen by Mrs. Goddard's +two women servants. The vicar walked rapidly through the park, looking +about him suspiciously as he went. Goddard might at that very moment be +lurking behind any one of those oaks; it would be most unpleasant if he +mistook the vicar for the squire. But that, the vicar reflected, was +impossible on account of his clerical dress. He reached the Hall in +safety and stood looking down among the leafless trees, waiting for the +door to be opened. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Mr. Juxon received the vicar in the library as he had received him on the +previous day; but on the present occasion Mr. Ambrose had not been sent +for and the squire's face wore an expression of inquiry. He supposed his +friend had come to ask him the result of the interview with Mrs. Goddard, +and as he himself was on the point of going towards the cottage he wished +the vicar had come at a later or an earlier hour. + +"I have a message to give you," said Mr. Ambrose, "a very important +message." + +"Indeed?" answered the squire, observing his serious face. + +"Yes. I had better tell you at once. Mrs. Goddard sent for me this +morning. She has actually seen her husband, who must be hiding in the +neighbourhood. He came to her drawing-room window last night and the +night before." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. "You don't tell me so!" + +"That is not the worst of the matter," continued the vicar, looking very +grave and fixing his eyes on the squire's face. "This villainous fellow +has been threatening to take your life, Mr. Juxon." + +Mr. Juxon stared at the vicar for a moment in surprise, and then broke +into a hearty laugh. + +"My life!" he cried. "Upon my word, the fellow does not know what he is +talking about! Do you mean to say that this escaped convict, who can be +arrested at sight wherever he is found, imagines that he could attack me +in broad daylight without being caught?" + +"Well, no, I suppose not--but you often walk home at night, Mr. +Juxon--alone through the park." + +"I think that dog of mine could manage Mr. Goddard," remarked the squire +calmly. "And pray, Mr. Ambrose, now that we know that the man is in the +neighbourhood, what is to prevent us from finding him?" + +"We do not know where he is," replied the vicar, thanking the inspiration +which had prevented him from asking Mrs. Goddard more questions. He had +promised to save Goddard, too, or at least not to facilitate his capture. +But though he was glad to be able to say honestly that he did not know +where he was, he began to doubt whether in the eyes of the law he was +acting rightly. + +"You do not know?" asked the squire. + +"No; and besides I think--perhaps--we ought to consider poor Mrs. +Goddard's position." + +"Mrs. Goddard's position!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon almost angrily. "And who +should consider her position more than I, Mr. Ambrose? My dear sir, I +consider her position before all things--of course I do. But nothing +could be of greater advantage to her position than the certainty that her +husband is safely lodged in prison. I cannot imagine how he contrived +to escape--can you?" + +"No, I cannot," answered Mr. Ambrose, thrusting his hands into his +pockets and biting his long upper lip. + +"By the bye, did the fellow happen to say why he meant to lay violent +hands on me?" inquired Mr. Juxon. + +"Since you ask--he did. It appears that he saw you going into the +cottage, and immediately became jealous--" + +"Of me?" Mr. Juxon coloured a little beneath his bronzed complexion, and +grew more angry. "Well, upon my word! But if that is true I am much +obliged for your warning. Fellows of that sort never reason--he will very +likely attack me as you say. It will be quite the last time he attacks +anybody--the devil shall have his own, Mr. Ambrose, if I can help him to +it--" + +"Dear me! Mr. Juxon--you surprise me," said the vicar, who had never +heard his friend use such strong language before. + +"It is enough to surprise anybody," remarked the squire. "I trust we +shall surprise Mr. Goddard before night. Excuse me, but when did he +express his amiable intentions towards me?" + +"Last night, I believe," replied Mr. Ambrose, reluctantly. + +"And when did he see me going into the cottage?" + +"Yesterday afternoon, I believe." The vicar felt as though he were +beginning to break his promise of shielding the fugitive, but he could +not refuse to answer a direct question. + +"Then, when he saw me, he was either in the cottage or in the park. There +was no one in the road, I am quite sure." + +"I do not know," said the vicar, delighted at being able to say so. He +was such a simple man that Mr. Juxon noticed the tone of relief in which +he denied any knowledge of Goddard's whereabouts on the previous day as +compared with his reluctance to answer upon those points of which he was +certain. + +"You are not anxious that Goddard should be caught," said the squire +rather sharply. + +"Frankly," returned the vicar, "I do not wish to be instrumental in his +capture--not that I am likely to be." + +"That is none of my business, Mr. Ambrose. I will try and catch him +alone. But it would be better that he should be taken alive and +quietly--" + +"Surely," cried the vicar in great alarm, "you would not kill him?" + +"Oh no, certainly not. But my dog might, Mr. Ambrose. They are ugly dogs +when they are angry, and they have a remarkable faculty for finding +people who are lost. They used to use them in Russia for tracking +fugitive serfs and convicts who escaped from Siberia." + +Mr. Ambrose shuddered. The honest squire seemed almost as bloodthirsty in +his eyes as the convict Goddard. He felt that he did not understand Mr. +Juxon. The idea of hunting people with bloodhounds seemed utterly foreign +to his English nature, and he could not understand how his English friend +could entertain such a thought; he probably forgot that a few generations +earlier the hunting of all kinds of men, papists, dissenters, covenanters +and rebels, with dogs, had been a favourite English sport. + +"Really, Mr. Juxon," he said in an agitated tone, "I think you would do +much better to protect yourself with the means provided by the law. +Considerations of humanity--" + +"Considerations of humanity, sir, are at an end when one man threatens +the life of another. You admit yourself that I am not safe unless Goddard +is caught, and yet you object to my method of catching him. That is +illogical." + +The vicar felt that this was to some extent true; but he was not willing +to admit it. He knew also that if he could dissuade the squire from his +barbarous scheme, Goddard would have a far better chance of escape. + +"I think that with the assistance of Gall and a London detective--" he +began. + +"Gall is an old woman, Mr. Ambrose, and it will take twenty-four hours to +get a detective from town. In twenty-four hours this man may have +attacked me." + +"He will hardly attempt to force his way into your house, Mr. Juxon." + +"So then, I am to stay at home to suit his convenience? I will not do any +such thing. Besides, in twenty-four hours Goddard may have changed his +mind and may have taken himself off. For the rest of her life Mrs. +Goddard will then be exposed to the possibility of every kind of +annoyance." + +"He would never come back, I am sure," objected the vicar. + +"Why not? Every time he comes she will give him money. The more money she +gives him the more often he will come, unless we put an end to his coming +altogether." + +"You seem to forget," urged Mr. Ambrose, "that there will be a vigorous +search made for him. Why not telegraph to the governor of Portland?" + +"I thought you wanted to save Mrs. Goddard from needless scandal; did you +not?" returned the squire. "The governor of Portland would send down a +squad of police who would publish the whole affair. He would have done so +as soon as the man escaped had he known that Mrs. Goddard lived here." + +"I wonder how Goddard himself knew it," remarked Mr. Ambrose. + +"I don't know. Perhaps she told him she was coming here, at their last +interview. Or perhaps she wrote to him in prison and the governor +overlooked the letter. Anything like that would account for it." + +"But if you catch him--alive," hesitated the vicar, "it will all be known +at once. I do not see how you can prevent that." + +"If I catch him alive, I will take him out of Billingsfield without any +one's knowledge. I do not mean to hurt him. I only want to get him back +to prison. Believe me, I am much more anxious than you can possibly be to +save Mrs. Goddard from harm." + +"Very well. I have done my errand," said Mr. Ambrose, with a sort of sigh +of relief. "I confess, I am in great anxiety of mind, both on your +account and on hers. I never dreamed that such things could happen in +Billingsfield." + +"You are certainly not responsible for them," answered Mr. Juxon. "It is +not your fault--" + +"Not altogether, perhaps. But I was perhaps wrong in letting her come +here--no, I am sure I was not," he added impulsively, as though ashamed +of having said anything so unkind. + +"Certainly not. You were quite right, Mr. Ambrose, quite right, I assure +you." + +"Well, I hope all may yet be for the best," said the vicar. + +"Let us hope so," replied Mr. Juxon gravely. "By all means, let us hope +that all may be for the best." + +Whether the squire doubted the possibility of so happy an issue to events +or not, is uncertain. He felt almost more sorry for the vicar than for +himself; the vicar was such a good man, so unused to the violent deeds of +violent people, of which the squire in his wanderings had seen more than +was necessary to convince him that all was not always for the best in +this best of all possible worlds. + +Mr. Ambrose left his friend and as he retraced his steps through the park +was more disturbed than ever. That Goddard should contemplate killing the +squire was bad enough, in all conscience, but that the squire should +deliberately purpose to hunt down Goddard with his bloodhound seemed +somehow even worse. The vicar had indeed promised Mrs. Goddard that he +would not help to capture her husband, but he would have been as glad as +any one to hear that the convict was once more lodged in his prison. +There lurked in his mind, nevertheless, an impression that even a convict +should have a fair chance. The idea was not expressed, but existed in +him. Everybody, he would have said, ought to have a fair chance, and +as the law of nations forbids the use of explosive bullets in warfare, +the laws of humanity seemed to forbid the use of bloodhounds in the +pursuit of criminals. He had a very great respect for the squire's +character and principles, but the cold-blooded way in which Mr. Juxon had +spoken of catching and probably killing Walter Goddard, had shaken the +good vicar's belief in his friend. He doubted whether he were not now +bound to return to Mrs. Goddard and to warn her in his turn of her +husband's danger, whether he ought not to do something to save the +wretched convict from his fate. It seemed hideous to think that in +peaceful Billingsfield, in his own lonely parish, a human being should be +exposed to such peril. But at this point the vicar's continuity forsook +him. He had not the heart to tell the tale of his interview with Mr. +Juxon to the unhappy lady he had left that morning. It was extremely +improbable, he thought, that she should be able to communicate with her +husband during the day, and the squire's language led him to think that +the day would not pass without some attempt to discover Walter Goddard's +hiding-place. Besides, the vicar's mind was altogether more disturbed +than it had been in thirty years, and he was no longer able to account to +himself with absolute accuracy for what he did. At all events, he felt +that it was better not to tell Mrs. Goddard what the squire had said. + +When he was gone, Mr. Juxon paced his library alone in the greatest +uncertainty. He had told the vicar in his anger that he would find +Goddard with the help of Stamboul. That the hound was able to accomplish +the feat in the present weather, and if Goddard had actually stood some +time at the cottage window on the previous night, he did not doubt for a +moment. The vicar had mentioned the window to him when he told him that +Mrs. Goddard had seen her husband. He had probably been at the window as +late as midnight, and the scent, renewed by his visit, would not be +twelve hours old. Stamboul could find the man, unless he had got into a +cart, which was improbable. But a new and startling consideration +presented itself to the squire's mind when the vicar was gone and his +anger had subsided; a consideration which made him hesitate what course +to pursue. + +That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the +criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should +be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at +large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to +all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the +fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one +thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon +had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the +great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet +through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the +convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the +squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection +the thing appeared in a different light. + +He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if +not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a +wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free +she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were +removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the +squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be +to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for +justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that +Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard +might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance +to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want +to murder Goddard and take his wife." + +It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and +murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible one. The very +uncertainty which there was, tempted the squire to disregard the +possibility of Goddard's death as compared with the importance of his +capture. It was quite likely, he unconsciously argued, that the +bloodhound would not kill him after all; it was even possible that he +might not find him; but it would be worth while to make the attempt, for +the results to be obtained by catching the fugitive were very great--Mrs. +Goddard's peace was to be considered before all things. But still before +the squire's eyes arose the picture of Stamboul tearing the throat of the +man he had killed in the Belgrade forest. If he killed the felon, Juxon +would know that to all intents and purposes he had himself done the deed +in order to marry Mrs. Goddard. But still the thought remained with him +and would not leave him. + +The fellow had threatened his own life. It was then a fair fight, +for a man cannot be blamed if he tries to get the better of one who is +going about to kill him. On one of his many voyages, he had once shot a +man in order to quell a mutiny; he had not killed him it is true, but +he had disabled him for the time--he had handled many a rough customer +in his day. The case, he thought, was similar, for it was the case of +self-defence. The law, even, would say he was justified. But to slay a +man in self-defence and then to marry his widow, though justifiable in +law, is a very delicate case for the conscience; and in spite of the +wandering life he had led, Mr. Juxon's conscience was sensitive. He was +an honest man and a gentleman, he had tried all his life to do right as +he saw it, and did not mean to turn murderer now, no matter how easy it +would be for him to defend his action. + +At the end of an hour he had decided that it would be murder, and no +less, to let Stamboul track Goddard to his hiding-place. The hound might +accompany him in his walks, and if anybody attacked him it would be so +much the worse for his assailant. Murder or no murder, he was entitled to +take any precautions he pleased against an assault. But he would not +willingly put the bloodhound on the scent, and he knew well enough that +the dog would not run upon a strange trail unless he were put to it. +The squire went to his lunch, feeling that he had made a good resolution; +but he ate little and soon afterwards began to feel the need of going +down to see Mrs. Goddard. No day was complete without seeing her, and +considering the circumstances which had occurred on the previous +afternoon, it was natural that he should call to inquire after her state. +In the hall, the gigantic beast which had played such an important part +in his thoughts during the morning, came solemnly up to him, raising his +great red eyes as though asking whether he were to accompany his master. +The squire stood still and looked at him for a moment. + +"Come along, Stamboul!" he said suddenly, as he put on his hat. The hound +leaped up and laid his heavy paws on the squire's shoulders, trying to +lick his face in his delight, then, almost upsetting the sturdy man he +sprang back, slipped on the polished floor, recovered himself and with an +enormous stride bounded past Mr. Juxon, out into the park. But Mr. Juxon +quickly called him back, and presently he was following close at heel in +his own stately way, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The +squire felt nervous, and the sensation was new to him. He did not believe +that Goddard would really attack him at all, certainly not that he would +dare to attack him in broad daylight. But the knowledge of the threat the +fellow had uttered made him watchful. He glanced to the right and left as +he walked and gripped his heavy blackthorn stick firmly in his hand. He +wished that if the man were to appear he would come quickly--it might be +hard to hold Stamboul back if he were attacked unawares. + +He reached the gate, crossed the road and rang the bell of the cottage. +As he stood waiting, Stamboul smelled the ground, put up his head, +smelled it again and with his nose down trotted slowly to the window on +the left hand of the door. He smelled the ground, the wall and presently +put both his fore paws upon the outer ledge of the window. Then he +dropped again, and looked at his master. Martha was a long time in coming +to the door. + +"After him, Stamboul!" said the squire, almost unconsciously. The dog put +his nose down and began to move slowly about. At that moment the door +opened. + +"Oh, sir," said Martha, "it's you, sir. I was to say, if you please, that +if you called, Mrs. Goddard was poorly to-day, sir." + +"Dear me!" said Mr. Juxon, "I hope she is not ill. Is it anything +serious, Martha?" + +"Well, sir, she's been down this mornin', but her head ached terrible bad +and she went back to her room--oh, sir, your dog--he's a runnin' home." + +As she spoke a sound rang in the air that made Martha start back. It was +a deep, resounding, bell-like note, fierce and wild, rising and falling, +low but full, with a horror indescribable in its echo--the sound which no +man who has heard it ever forgets--the baying of a bloodhound on the +track of a man. + +The squire turned deadly pale, but he shouted with all his might, as he +would have shouted to a man on the topsail yard in a gale at sea. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul! Stamboul!" Again and again he yelled the dog's name. + +Stamboul had not gone far. The quickset hedge had baffled the scent for a +moment and he was not a dozen yards beyond it in the park when his +master's cry stopped him. Instantly he turned, cleared the six-foot hedge +and double ditch at a bound and came leaping back across the road. The +squire breathed hard, for it had been a terrible moment. If he had not +succeeded in calling the beast back, it might have been all over with +Walter Goddard, wherever he was hidden. + +"It is only his play," said Mr. Juxon, still very white and holding +Stamboul by the collar. "Please tell Mrs. Goddard, Martha, that I am very +sorry indeed to hear that she is ill, and that I will inquire this +evening." + +"Yes, sir," said Martha, who eyed the panting beast timidly and showed an +evident desire to shut the door as soon as possible. + +The squire felt more nervous than ever as he walked slowly along the road +in the direction of the village, his hand still on the bloodhound's +collar. He felt what a narrow escape Goddard had probably had, and the +terrible sound of Stamboul's baying had brought back to him once again +and very vividly the scene in the woods by the Bosphorus. He felt that +for a few minutes at least he would rather not enter the park with the +dog by him, and he naturally turned towards the vicarage, not with any +intention of going in, but from sheer force of custom, as people under +the influence of strong emotions often do things unconsciously which they +are in the habit of doing. He walked slowly along, and had almost reached +Mr. Ambrose's pretty old red brick house, when he found himself face to +face with the vicar's wife. She presented an imposing appearance, as +usual; her grey skirt, drawn up a little from the mud, revealed a bright +red petticoat and those stout shoes which she regarded as so essential +to health; she wore moreover a capacious sealskin jacket and a dark +bonnet with certain jet flowers, which for many years had been regarded +by the inhabitants of Billingsfield as the distinctive badge of a +gentlewoman. Mrs. Ambrose was wont to smile and say that they were +indestructible and would last as long as she did. She greeted Mr. Juxon +cordially. + +"How do you, Mr. Juxon--were you going to see us? I was just going for a +walk--perhaps you will come with me?" + +Mr. Juxon turned back and prepared to accompany her. + +"Such good news this morning, from John Short," she said. "He has +finished his examinations, and it seems almost certain that he will be +senior classic. His tutor at Trinity has written already to congratulate +my husband upon his success." + +"I am sure, I am delighted, too," said the squire, who had regained his +composure but kept his hold on Stamboul's collar. "He deserves all he +gets, and more too," he continued. "I think he will be a remarkable man." + +"I did not think you liked him so very much," said Mrs. Ambrose rather +doubtfully, as she walked slowly by his side. + +"Oh--I liked him very much. Indeed, I was going to ask him to stay with +me for a few days at the Hall." + +The inspiration was spontaneous. Mr. Juxon was in a frame of mind in +which he felt that he ought to do something pleasant for somebody, to set +off against the bloodthirsty designs which had passed through his mind in +the morning. He knew that if he had not been over friendly to John, it +had been John's own fault; but since he had found out that it was +impossible to marry Mrs. Goddard, he had forgiven the young scholar his +shortcomings and felt very charitably inclined towards him. It suddenly +struck him that it would give John great pleasure to stop at the Hall for +a few days, and that it would be no inconvenience to himself. The effect +upon Mrs. Ambrose was greater even than he had expected. She was +hospitable, good and kind, but she was also economical, as she had need +to be. The squire was rich. If the squire would put up John during a part +of his visit it would be a kindness to John himself, and an economy to +the vicarage. Mr. Ambrose himself would not have gone to such a length; +but then, as his wife said to herself in self-defence, Augustin did not +pay the butcher's bills, and did not know how the money went. She did not +say that Augustin was precisely what is called reckless, but he of course +did not understand economy as she did. How should he, poor man, with all +his sermons and his funerals and other occupations to take his mind off? +Mrs. Ambrose was delighted at the squire's proposal. + +"Really!" she exclaimed. "That would be too good of you, Mr. Juxon. And +you do not know how it would quite delight him! He loves books so much, +and then you know," she added in a confidential manner, "he has never +stayed in a country house in his life, I am quite sure." + +"And when is he coming down?" asked Mr. Juxon. "I should be very much +pleased to have him." + +"To-morrow, I think," said Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Well--would you ask him from me to come up and stop a week? Can you +spare him, Mrs. Ambrose? I know you are very fond of him, of course, +but--" + +"Oh very," said she warmly. "But I think it likely he will stay some +time," she added in explanation of her willingness to let him go to the +Hall. + +The squire felt vaguely that the presence of a guest in his house would +probably be a restraint upon him, and he felt that some restraint would +be agreeable to him at the present time. + +"Besides," added Mrs. Ambrose, "if you would like to have him +first--there is a little repair necessary in his room at the vicarage--we +have put it off too long--" + +"By all means." said the squire, following out his own train of thought. +"Send him up to me as soon as he comes. If I can manage it I will be down +here to ask him myself." + +"It is so good of you," said Mrs. Ambrose. + +"Not at all. Are you going to the cottage?" + +"Yes--why?" + +"Nothing," said Mr. Juxon. "I did not know whether you would like to walk +on a little farther with me. Good-bye, then. You will tell Short as soon +as he comes, will you not?" + +"Certainly," replied Mrs. Ambrose, still beaming upon him. "I will not +let him unpack his things at the vicarage. Good-bye--so many thanks." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Mrs. Goddard's head ached "terrible bad" according to Martha, and when +the vicar left her she went and lay down upon her bed, with a sensation +that if the worst were not yet over she could bear no more. But she had +an elastic temperament, and the fact of having consulted Mr. Ambrose that +morning had been a greater relief than she herself suspected. She felt +that he could be trusted to save Mr. Juxon from harm and Walter from +capture, and having once confided to him the important secret which had +so heavily weighed upon her mind she felt that the burthen of her +troubles was lightened. Mr. Juxon could take any measures he pleased for +his own safety; he would probably choose to stay at home until the danger +was past. As for her husband, Mary Goddard did not believe that he would +return a third time, for she thought that she had thoroughly frightened +him. It was even likely that he had only thrown out his threat for the +sake of terrifying his wife, and was now far beyond the limits of the +parish. So great was the relief she felt after she had talked with the +vicar that she almost ceased to believe there was any danger at all; +looking at it in the light of her present mood, she almost wondered why +she had thought it necessary to tell Mr. Ambrose--until suddenly a vision +of her friend the squire, attacked and perhaps killed, in his own park, +rose to her mental vision, and she remembered what agonies of fear she +had felt for him until she had sent for the vicar. The latter indeed +seemed to have been a sort of _deus ex maohina_ by whom she suddenly +obtained peace of mind and a sense of security in the hour of her +greatest distress. + +All that afternoon she lay upon her bed, while Nellie sat beside her and +read to her, and stroked her hands; for Nellie was in reality +passionately fond of her mother and suffered almost as much at the sight +of her suffering as she could have done had she been in pain herself. +Both Mrs. Goddard and the child started at the sound of Stamboul's +baying, which was unlike anything they had ever heard before, and Nellie +ran to the window. + +"It is only Mr. Juxon and Stamboul having a game," said Nellie. "What a +noise he made, though! Did not he?" + +Poor Nellie--had she had any idea of what the "game" was from which the +squire found it so hard to make his hound desist, she must have gone +almost mad with horror. For the game was her own father, poor child. But +she came back and sat beside her mother utterly unconscious of what might +have happened if Stamboul had once got beyond earshot, galloping along +the trail towards the disused vault at the back of the church. Mrs. +Goddard had started at the sounds and had put her hand to her forehead, +but Nellie's explanation was enough to quiet her, and she smiled faintly +and closed her eyes again. Then, half an hour later, Mrs. Ambrose came, +and would not be denied. She wanted to make Mrs. Goddard comfortable, she +said, when she found she was ill, and she did her best, being a kind and +motherly woman when not hardened by the presence of strangers. She told +her that John was coming on the next day, speaking with vast pride of his +success and omitting to look sternly at Mrs. Goddard as she had formerly +been accustomed to do when she spoke of the young scholar. Then at last +she went away, after exacting a promise from Mrs. Goddard to come and +dine, bringing Nellie with her, on the following day, in case she should +have recovered by that time from her headache. + +But during all that night Mrs. Goddard lay awake, listening for the sound +she so much dreaded, of a creeping footstep on the slated path outside +and for the tapping at the window. Nothing came, however, and as the grey +dawn began to creep in through the white curtains, she fell peacefully +asleep. Nellie would not let her be waked, and breakfasted without her, +enjoying with childish delight the state of being waited on by Martha +alone. + +Meanwhile, at an early hour, John arrived at the vicarage and was +received with open arms by Mr. Ambrose and his wife. The latter seemed to +forget, in the pleasure of seeing him again, that she had even once +spoken doubtfully of him or hinted that he was anything short of +perfection itself. And to prove how much she had done for him she +communicated with great pride the squire's message, to the effect that he +expected John at the Hall that very day. + +John's heart leaped with delight at the idea. It was natural. He was +indeed most sincerely attached to the Ambroses, and most heartily glad to +be with them; but he had never in his life had an opportunity of staying +in a "big" house, as he would have described it. It seemed as though he +were already beginning to taste the sweet first-fruits of success after +all his labour and all his privations; it was the first taste of another +world, the first mouthful of the good things of life which had fallen to +his lot. Instantly there rose before him delicious visions of hot-water +cans brought by a real footman, of luxurious meals served by a real +butler, of soft carpets perpetually beneath his feet, of liberty to +lounge in magnificent chairs in the magnificent library; and last, though +not least, there was a boyish feeling of delight in the thought that when +he went to see Mrs. Goddard he would go from the Hall, that she would +perhaps associate him henceforth with a different kind of existence, in a +word, that he was sure to acquire importance in her eyes from the fact of +his visit to the squire. Many a young fellow of one and twenty is as +familiar with all that money can give and as tired of luxury as a +broken-down hard liver of forty years; for this is an age of luxurious +living. But poor John had hardly ever tasted the least of those things +too familiar to the golden youth of the period to be even noticed. He had +felt when he first entered the little drawing-room of the cottage that +Mrs. Goddard herself belonged, or had belonged, to that delicious unknown +world of ease where the question of expense was never considered, much +less mentioned. In her own eyes she was indeed living in a state +approaching to penury, but the spectacle of her pictures, her furniture +and her bibelots had impressed John with a very different idea. The +squire's invitation, asking him to spend a week at the Hall, seemed in a +moment to put him upon the same level as the woman to whom he believed +himself so devotedly attached. To his mind the ideal woman could not but +be surrounded by a luxurious atmosphere of her own. To enter the charmed +precincts of those surroundings seemed to John equivalent to being +transported from the regions of the Theocritan to the level of the +Anacreontic ode, from the pastoral, of which he had had too much, to the +aristocratic, of which he felt that he could not have enough. It was a +natural feeling in a very young man of his limited experience. + +He stayed some hours at the vicarage. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose thought +him changed in the short time which had elapsed since they had seen him. +He had grown more grave; he was certainly more of a man. The great +contest he had just sustained with so much honour had left upon his young +face its mark, an air of power which had not formerly been visible there; +even his voice seemed to have grown deeper and rounder, and his words +carried more weight. The good vicar, who had seen several generations +of students, already distinguished in John Short the budding "don," and +rubbed his hands with great satisfaction. + +John asked few questions but found himself obliged to answer many +concerning his recent efforts. He would have liked to say something about +Mrs. Goddard, but he remembered with some awe and much aversion the +circumstances in which he had last quitted the vicarage, and he held his +peace; whereby he again rose in Mrs. Ambrose's estimation. He made up for +his silence by speaking effusively of the squire's kindness in asking him +to the Hall; forgetting perhaps the relief he had felt when he escaped +from Billingsfield after Christmas without being again obliged to shake +hands with Mr. Juxon. Things looked very differently now, however. He +felt himself to be somebody in the world, and that distressing sense of +inferiority which had perhaps been at the root of his jealousy against +the squire was gone, swallowed in the sense of triumph. His face was +pale, perhaps, from overwork, but there was a brilliancy in his eyes and +an incisiveness in his speech which came from the confidence of victory. +He now desired nothing more than to meet the squire, feeling sure that he +should receive his congratulations, and though he stayed some hours in +conversation with his old friends, in imagination he was already at the +Hall. The squire had not come down to meet him, as he had proposed, but +he had sent his outlandish American gig with his groom to fetch John. +While he was at the vicarage the latter was probably too much occupied +with conversation to notice that Mr. Ambrose seemed preoccupied and +changed, and the vicar was to some extent recalled to his usual manner by +the presence of his pupil. Mrs. Ambrose had taxed her husband with +concealing something from her ever since the previous day, but the good +man was obstinate and merely said that he felt unaccountably nervous and +irritable, and begged her to excuse his mood. Mrs. Ambrose postponed her +cross-examination until a more favourable opportunity should present +itself. + +John got into the gig and drove away. He was to return with the squire to +dinner in the evening, and he fully expected that Mrs. Goddard and Nellie +would be of the party--it seemed hardly likely that they should be +omitted. Indeed, soon after John had left a note arrived at the vicarage +explaining that Mrs. Goddard was much better and would certainly come, +according to Mrs. Ambrose's very kind invitation. + +It is unnecessary to dwell upon the meeting which took place between Mr. +Juxon and John Short. The squire was hospitable in the extreme and +expressed his great satisfaction at having John under his own roof at +last. He was perhaps, like the vicar, a little nervous, but the young man +did not notice it, being much absorbed by the enjoyment of his good +fortune and of the mental rest he so greatly needed. Mr. Juxon +congratulated him warmly and expressed a hope, amounting to certainty, +that John might actually be at the head of the Tripos; to which John +modestly replied that he would be quite satisfied to be in the first ten, +knowing in his heart that he should be most bitterly disappointed if he +were second to any one. He sat opposite to his host in a deep chair +beside the fire in the library and revelled in comfort and ease, enjoying +every trifle that fell in his way, feeling only a very slight diffidence +in regard to himself for the present and none at all for the future. The +squire was so cordial that he felt himself thoroughly at home. Indeed Mr. +Juxon already rejoiced at his wisdom in asking John to the Hall. The lad +was strong, hopeful, well-balanced in every respect and his presence was +an admirable tonic to the almost morbid state of anxiety in which the +squire had lived ever since his interview with Policeman Gall, two days +before. In the sunshine of John's young personality, fears grew small and +hope grew big. The ideas which had passed through Mr. Juxon's brain on +the previous evening, just after Mr. Ambrose had warned him of Goddard's +intentions, seemed now like the evil shadows of a nightmare. All +apprehension lest the convict should attempt to execute his threats +disappeared like darkness before daylight, and in the course of an hour +or two the squire found himself laughing and chatting with his guest as +though there were no such things as forgery or convicts in the world. The +afternoon passed very pleasantly between the examination of Mr. Juxon's +treasures and the conversation those objects elicited. For John, who was +an accomplished scholar, had next to no knowledge of bibliology and took +delight in seeing for the first time many a rare edition which he had +heard mentioned or had read of in the course of his studies. He would not +have believed that he could be now talking on such friendly terms with a +man for whom he had once felt the strongest antipathy, and Mr. Juxon on +his part felt that in their former meetings he had not done full justice +to the young man's undoubted talents. + +As they drove down to the vicarage that evening Mrs. Goddard's name was +mentioned for the first time. John, with a fine affectation of +indifference, asked how she was. + +"She has not been very well lately," answered Mr. Juxon. + +"What has been the matter?" inquired John, who could not see his +companion's face in the dark shade of the trees. + +"Headache, I believe," returned the squire laconically, and silence +ensued for a few moments. "I should not wonder if it rained again this +evening," he added presently as they passed through the park gate, out +into the road. The sky was black and it was hard to see anything beyond +the yellow streak of light which fell from the lamps and ran along the +road before the gig. + +"If it turns out a fine night, don't come for us. We will walk home," +said the squire to the groom as they descended before the vicarage and +Stamboul, who had sat on the floor between them, sprang down to the +ground. + +John was startled when he met Mrs. Goddard. He was amazed at the change +in her appearance for which no one had prepared him. She met him indeed +very cordially but he felt as though she were not the same woman he had +known so short a time before. There was still in her face that delicate +pathetic expression which had at first charmed him, there was still the +same look in her eyes; but what had formerly seemed so attractive seemed +now exaggerated. Her cheeks looked wan and hollow and there were deep +shadows about her eyes and temples; her lips had lost their colour and +the lines about her mouth had suddenly become apparent where John had not +before suspected them. She looked ten years older as she put her thin +hand in his and smiled pleasantly at his greeting. Some trite phrase +about the "ravages of time" crossed John's mind and gave him a +disagreeable sensation, for which it was hard to account. He felt as +though his dream were suddenly dead and a strange reality had taken life +in its place. Could this be she to whom he had written verses by the +score, at whose smile he had swelled with pride, at whose careless laugh +he had trembled with shame? She was terribly changed, she looked +positively old--what John called old. As he sat by her side talking and +wondering whether he would fall back into those same grooves of +conversation he had associated with her formerly, he felt something akin +to pity for her, which he had certainly never expected to feel. She was +not the same as before--even the tone of her voice was different; she was +gentle, pathetic, endowed even now with many charms, but she was not +the woman he had dreamed of and tried to speak to of the love he fancied +was in his heart. She talked--yes; but there were long pauses, and her +eyes wandered strangely from him, often towards the windows of the +vicarage drawing-room, often towards the doors; her answers were not +always to the point and her interest seemed to flag in what was said. +John could not fail to notice too that both Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon +treated her with the kind of attention which is bestowed upon invalids, +and the vicar's wife was constantly doing something to make her +comfortable, offering her a footstool, shading the light from her eyes, +asking if she felt any draught where she sat. These were things no one +had formerly thought of doing for Mrs. Goddard, who in spite of her sad +face had been used to laugh merrily enough with the rest, and whose lithe +figure had seemed to John the embodiment of youthful activity. At last he +ventured to ask her a question. + +"Have you been ill, Mrs. Goddard?" he inquired in a voice full of +interest. Her soft eyes glanced uneasily at him. He was now the only one +of the party who was not in some degree acquainted with her troubles. + +"Oh no!" she answered nervously. "Only a little headache. It always makes +me quite wretched when I have it." + +"Yes. I often have headaches, too," answered John. "The squire told me as +we came down." + +"What did he tell you?" asked Mrs. Goddard so quickly as to startle her +companion. + +"Oh--only that you had not been very well. Where is it that you suffer?" +he asked sympathetically. "I think it is worst when it seems to be in +the very centre of one's head, like a red-hot nail being driven in with a +hammer--is that like what you feel?" + +"I--yes, I daresay. I don't quite know," she answered, her eyes wandering +uneasily about the room. "I suppose you have dreadful headaches over +your work, do you not, Mr. Short?" she added quickly, feeling that she +must say something. + +"Oh, it is all over now," said John rather proudly. But as he leaned back +in his chair he said to himself that this meeting was not precisely what +he had anticipated; the subject of headaches might have a fine interest +in its way, but he had expected to have talked of more tender things. To +his own great surprise he felt no desire to do so, however. He had not +recovered from the shock of seeing that Mrs. Goddard had grown old. + +"Yes," said she, kindly. "How glad you must be! To have done so +splendidly too--you must feel that you have realised a magnificent +dream." + +"No," said John. "I cannot say I do. I have done the thing I meant to do, +or I have good reason to believe that I have; but I have not realised my +dream. I shall never write any more odes, Mrs. Goddard." + +"Why not? Oh, you mean to me, Mr. Short?" she added with something of her +old manner. "Well, you know, it is much better that you should not." + +"Perhaps so," answered John rather sadly. "I don't know. Frankly, Mrs. +Goddard, did not you sometimes think I was very foolish last Christmas?" + +"Very," she said, smiling at him kindly. "But I think you have changed. I +think you are more of a man, now--you have something more serious--" + +"I used to think I was very serious, and so I was," said John, with the +air of a man who refers to the follies of his long past youth. "Do you +remember how angry I was when you wanted me to skate with Miss Nellie?" + +"Oh, I only said that to teaze you," Mrs. Goddard answered. "I daresay +you would be angry now, if I suggested the same thing." + +"No," said John quietly. "I do not believe I should be. As you say, I +feel very much older now than I did then." + +"The older we grow the more we like youth," said Mary Goddard, +unconsciously uttering one of the fundamental truths of human nature, and +at the same time so precisely striking the current of John's thoughts +that he started. He was wondering within himself why it was that she now +seemed too old for him, whereas a few short months ago she had seemed to +be of his own age. + +"How true that is!" he exclaimed. Mrs. Goddard laughed faintly. + +"You are not old enough to have reached that point yet, Mr. Short," she +said. "Really, here we are moralising like a couple of old philosophers!" + +"This is a moralising season," answered John. "When we last met, it was +all holly-berries and Christmas and plum-pudding." + +"How long ago that seems!" exclaimed the poor lady with a sigh. + +"Ages!" echoed John, sighing in his turn, but not so much for sadness, it +may be, as from relief that the great struggle was over. That time of +anxiety and terrible effort seemed indeed very far removed from him, but +its removal was a cause of joy rather than of sadness. He sighed like a +man who, sitting over his supper, remembers the hard fought race he has +won in the afternoon, feeling yet in his limbs the ability to race and +win again but feeling in his heart the delicious consciousness that the +question of his superiority has been decided beyond all dispute. + +"And now you will stay here a long time, of course," said Mrs. Goddard +presently. + +"I am stopping at the Hall, just now," said John with a distinct sense of +the importance of the fact, "and after a week I shall stay here a few +days. Then I shall go to London to see my father." + +"No one will be so glad as he to hear of your success." + +"No indeed. I really think it is more for his sake that I want to be +actually first," said John. "Do you know, I have so often thought how he +will look when I meet him and tell him I am the senior classic." + +John's voice trembled and as Mrs. Goddard looked at him, she thought she +saw a moisture in his eyes. It pleased her to see it, for it showed that +John Short had more heart than she had imagined. + +"I can fancy that," she said, warmly. "I envy you that moment." + +Presently the squire came over to where they were sitting and joined +them; and then Mrs. Ambrose spoke to John, and Nellie came and asked him +questions. Strange to say John felt none of that annoyance which he +formerly felt when his conversations with Mrs. Goddard were interrupted, +and he talked with Nellie and Mrs. Ambrose quite as readily as with her. +He felt very calm and happy that night, as though he had done with the +hard labour of life. In half an hour he had realised that he was no more +in love with Mrs. Goddard than he was with Mrs. Ambrose, and he was +trying to explain to himself how it was that he had ever believed in such +a palpable absurdity. Love was doubtless blind, he thought, but he was +surely not so blind as to overlook the evidences of Mrs. Goddard's age. +All the dreams of that morning faded away before the sight of her face, +and so deep is the turpitude of the best of human hearts that John was +almost ashamed of having once thought he loved her. That was probably the +best possible proof that his love had been but a boyish fancy. + +What the little party at the vicarage would have been like, if John's +presence had not animated it, would be hard to say. The squire and Mr. +Ambrose treated Mrs. Goddard with the sort of paternal but solemn care +which is usually bestowed either upon great invalids or upon persons +bereaved of some very dear relation. The two elder men occasionally +looked at her and exchanged glances when they were not observed by Mrs. +Ambrose, wondering perhaps what would next befall the unfortunate lady +and whether she could bear much more of the excitement and anxiety to +which she had of late been subjected. On the whole the conversation was +far from being lively, and Mrs. Goddard herself felt that it was a relief +when the hour came for going home. + +The vicar had ordered his dog-cart for her and Nellie, but as the night +had turned out better than had been expected Mr. Juxon's groom had not +come down from the Hall. Both he and John would be glad of the walk; it +had not rained for two days and the roads were dry. + +"Look here," said the squire, as they rose to take their leave, "Mr. +Short had better go as far as the cottage in the dog-cart, to see Mrs. +Goddard home. I will go ahead on foot--I shall probably be there as soon +as you. There is not room for us all, and somebody must go with her, you +know. Besides," he added, "I have got Stamboul with me." + +Mrs. Goddard, who was standing beside the squire, laid her hand +beseechingly upon his arm. + +"Oh, pray don't," she said in low voice. "Why have you not got your +carriage?" + +"Never mind me," he answered in the same tone. "I am all right, I like to +walk." + +Before she could say anything more, he had shaken hands with Mr. and Mrs. +Ambrose and was gone. Perhaps in his general determination to be good to +everybody he fancied that John would enjoy the short drive with Mrs. +Goddard better than the walk with himself. + +But when he was gone, Mrs. Goddard grew very nervous. One of her wraps +could not be found, and while search was being made for it the motherly +Mrs. Ambrose insisted upon giving her something hot, in the way of brandy +and water. She looked very ill, but showed the strongest desire to go. It +was no matter about the shawl, she said; Mr. Ambrose could send it in the +morning; but the thing was found and at last Mrs. Goddard and Nellie and +John got into the dog-cart with old Reynolds and drove off. All these +things consumed some time. + +The squire on the other hand strode briskly forward towards the cottage, +not wishing to keep John waiting for him. As he walked his mind wandered +back to the consideration of the almost tragic events which were +occurring in the peaceful village. He forgot all about John, as he looked +up at the half moon which struggled to give some light through the +driving clouds; he fell to thinking of Mrs. Goddard and to wondering +where her husband might be lying hidden. The road was lonely and he +walked fast, with Stamboul close at his heel. The dog-cart did not +overtake him before he reached the cottage, and he forgot all about it. +By sheer force of habit he opened the white gate and, closing it behind +him, entered the park alone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the +vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she +betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave +face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid +since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about +him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to +offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and +had been very much surprised at the squire's sudden determination to walk +home; he would gladly have seized his hat and run after his friend, but +he feared Mrs. Ambrose's curiosity and moreover on reflection felt sure +that the dog-cart would overtake Mr. Juxon before he was half way to the +cottage. He was very far from suspecting him of the absence of mind which +he actually displayed, but it was a great relief to him to see the little +party safe in the dog-cart and on the way homeward. + +Mrs. Goddard was on the front seat with old Reynolds, and John, who would +have preferred to sit by her side a few months ago, was glad to find +himself behind with Nellie. It was a curious instinct, but he felt it +strongly and was almost grateful to the old man for stolidly keeping his +seat. So he sat beside Nellie and talked to her, to the child's intense +delight; she had not enjoyed the evening very much, for she felt the +general sense of oppression as keenly as children always feel such +things, and she had long exhausted the slender stock of illustrated books +which lay upon the table in the vicarage drawing-room. + +"There is no more skating now," said John. "What do you do to amuse +yourselves?" + +"I am studying history with mamma," answered Nellie, "and that takes ever +so much time, you know. And then--oh, we are beginning to think of the +spring, and we look after the violet plants in the frames." + +"It does not feel much like spring," remarked John. + +"No--and mamma has not been well lately, so we have not done much of +anything." + +"Has she been ill long?" asked John. + +"No--oh no! Only the last two or three days, ever since--" Nellie stopped +herself. Her mother had told her not to mention the tramp's visit. + +"Ever since when?" asked John, becoming suddenly interested. + +"Ever since the last time the Ambroses came to tea," said Nellie with a +readiness beyond her years. "But she looks dreadfully, does not she?" + +"Dreadfully," answered John. Then, leaning back and turning his head he +spoke to Mrs. Goddard. "I hope you are quite warm enough?" he said. + +"Quite--thanks," answered she, but her voice sounded tremulous in the +night. It might have been the shaking of the dog-cart. In a few minutes +they drew up before the door of the cottage. John sprang to the ground +and almost lifted Mrs. Goddard from the high seat. + +"Where is Mr. Juxon?" she asked anxiously. + +John looked round, peering into the gloom. A black cloud driven by the +strong east wind was passing over the moon, and for some moments it was +almost impossible to see anything. The squire was nowhere to be seen. +John turned and helped Nellie off the back seat of the dog-cart. + +"I am afraid we must have passed him," he said quietly. Formerly Mrs. +Goddard's tone of anxiety as she asked for the squire would have roused +John's resentment; he now thought nothing of it. Reynolds prepared to +move off. + +"Won't you please wait a moment, Reynolds?" said Mrs. Goddard, going +close to the old man. She could not have told why she asked him to stay, +it was a nervous impulse. + +"Why?" asked John. "You know I am going to the Hall." + +"Yes, of course. I only thought, perhaps, you and Mr. Juxon would like to +drive up--it is so dark. I am sure Mr. Ambrose would not mind you taking +the gentlemen up to the Hall, Reynolds?" + +"No m'm. I'm quite sure as he wouldn't," exclaimed Reynolds with great +alacrity. He immediately had visions of a pint of beer in the Hall +kitchen. + +"You do not think Mr. Juxon may have gone on alone, Mr. Short?" said Mrs. +Goddard, leaning upon the wicket gate. Her face looked very pale in the +gloom. + +"No--at would be very odd if he did," replied John, who had his hands in +his greatcoat pockets and slowly stamped one foot after another on the +hard ground, to keep himself warm. + +"Then we must have passed him on the road," said Mrs. Goddard. "But I was +so sure I saw nobody--" + +"I think he will come presently," answered John in a reassuring tone. +"Why do you wait, Mrs. Goddard? You must be cold, and it is dangerous for +you to be out here. Don't wait, Reynolds," he added; "we will walk up." + +"Oh please don't," cried Mrs. Goddard, imploringly. + +John looked at her in some surprise. The cloud suddenly passed from +before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly. +He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he +supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition. Reynolds +on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but +sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry, +the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a +feeble and antiquated fashion. For some minutes there was total silence. +Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save +the strong east wind rushing past the cottage and losing itself among the +withered oaks of the park opposite. + +Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air. +Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul!" The squire's ringing voice was heard far up the +park. The bloodhound's distant baying suddenly ceased. John thought he +heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the +sighing wind. Then there was silence again. Mrs. Goddard leaned back +against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed +close to her mother's side. + +"Why--he has gone up the park!" exclaimed John in great surprise. "He was +calling to his dog--" + +"Oh, Mr. Short!" cried Mrs. Goddard in agonised tones, as soon as she +could speak, "I am sure something dreadful has happened--do go. Mr. +Short--do go and see--" + +Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon +John. + +"Stay with Mrs. Goddard, Reynolds," he said quickly and darted across the +road towards the park gate. John was strong and active. He laid his +hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the +top of his speed up the dark avenue. + +Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone, +swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel +in the gloom. He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the +afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he +had felt before his guest's coming. But in the short walk of scarcely +half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become +entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. Goddard's strange position, and for +the moment John was quite forgotten. He entered the park and the long +iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a +sharp click. Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly +behind him. At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned +sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground, +where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere. As he came towards this +hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him. Had the wind been +in the opposite direction, Stamboul's sharp nostrils would have scented +danger. As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire's +heels. The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as +has been seen, by a sweeping cloud. The squire turned to the right and +tramped along the hard road. + +At the darkest spot in the way a man sprang out suddenly before him and +struck a quick blow at his head with something heavy. But it was very +dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded +frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it passed +and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side. +At the same instant--it all happened in the space of two seconds, +Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the +shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent +him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he +leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the +murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover +himself and turn to spring again, Walter Goddard, who had chanced never +to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and +fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before +the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the +bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying +note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the +ditch and followed him into the gloom. + +"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty +yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream +broke the silence. + +A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the +prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no +easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the +moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees +upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his +heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for +an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim +limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul +writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire +glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering +moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly +wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was. + +It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man +thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his +strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was +impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he +should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the +scene of the disaster. + +"Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park. + +"This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's +quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a +moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he +saw. + +"Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he +added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr. +Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is +alive?" + +John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by +Goddard's body and looked into his face. + +"Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it +seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or +dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and +felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all +living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter +Goddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not +distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground. + +"I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and +drew back a little way from the body. + +"Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon, +and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul +by his side. + +John shuddered when he was left alone. It was indeed a dismal scene +enough. At his feet lay Walter Goddard's body, faintly illuminated by the +struggling moonbeams; all around and overhead the east wind was howling +and whistling and sighing in the dry oak branches, whirling hither and +thither the few brown leaves that had clung to their hold throughout the +long winter; the sound of the squire's rapidly retreating footsteps grew +more faint in the distance; John felt that he was alone and was very +uncomfortable. He would have liked to go back to the cottage and tell +Mrs. Goddard of what had happened, and that Mr. Juxon was safe; but he +thought the squire might return and find that he had left his post and +accuse him of cowardice. He drew back from the man's body and sheltered +himself from the wind, leaning against the broad trunk of an old oak +tree. He had not stood thus many minutes when he heard the sound of +wheels upon the hard road. It might be Mrs. Goddard, he thought. With one +more glance at the prostrate body, he turned away and hurried through the +trees towards the avenue. The bright lamps of the dog-cart were almost +close before him. He shouted to Reynolds. + +"Whoa, January!" ejaculated that ancient functionary as he pulled up +Strawberry close to John Short. Why the natives of Essex and especially +of Billingsfield habitually address their beasts of burden as "January" +is a matter best left to the discrimination of philologers; obedient to +the familiar words however, Strawberry stood still in the middle of the +road. John could see that Mrs. Goddard was seated by the side of Reynolds +but that Nellie was not in the cart. + +"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, is that you?" said John. "Mr. Juxon will be here in a +moment. Don't be frightened--he is not hurt in the least; awfully bad +luck for the tramp, though!" + +"The tramp?" repeated Mrs. Goddard with a faint cry of horror. + +"Yes," said John, whose spirits rose wonderfully in the light of the +dog-cart lamps. "There was a poor tramp hanging about the park--poaching, +very likely--and Mr. Juxon's dog got after him, somehow, I suppose. I do +not know how it happened, but when I came up--oh! here is Mr. Juxon +himself--he will tell you all about it." + +The squire came up in breathless haste, having locked Stamboul into the +house. + +"Good Heavens! Mrs. Goddard!" he ejaculated in a tone of profound +surprise. But Mrs. Goddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the +step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's +shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had +fainted. The old man seemed not to comprehend what had happened; he +had never experienced the sensation of having a lady leaning upon his +shoulder, and he looked down at her with a half idiotic smile on his +deeply furrowed face. + +"She's took wuss, sir," he remarked. "She was all for comin' up the park +as soon as Master John was gone. She warn't feelin' herself o' no account +t' evenin'." + +"Look here, Mr. Short," said the squire decisively. "I must ask you to +take Mrs. Goddard home again and call her women to look after her. I +fancy she will come to herself before long. Do you mind?" + +"Not in the least," said John cheerfully, mounting at the back of the +dog-cart. + +"And--Reynolds--bring Mr. Short back to the Hall immediately, please, and +you shall have some beer." + +"All right, sir." + +John supported the fainting lady with one arm, turning round upon his +seat at the back. Old Strawberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and +trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going +home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter +Goddard had fallen. + +The squire knelt down and tried to ascertain the extent of the man's +injuries; as far as he could see there was a bad wound at his throat, and +one hand was much mangled. But there seemed to have been no great flow of +blood. He tore open the smock-frock and shirt and put his ear to the +heart. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear it beat. Walter Goddard was +alive still--alive to live for years perhaps, the squire reflected; to +live in a prison, it was true, but to live. To describe his feelings in +that moment would be impossible. Had he found the convict dead, it would +be useless to deny that he would have felt a very great satisfaction, +tempered perhaps by some pity for the wretched man's miserable end, but +still very great. It would have seemed such a just end, after all; to be +killed in the attempt to kill, and to have died not by the squire's hand +but by the sharp strong jaws of the hound who had once before saved the +squire's life. But he was alive. It would not take much to kill him; a +little pressure on his wounded throat would be enough. Even to leave +him there, uncared for, till morning in the bleak wind, lying upon the +cold ground, would be almost certain to put an end to his life. But to +the honour of Charles James Juxon be it said that such thoughts never +crossed his mind. He pulled off his heavy ulster greatcoat, wrapped it +about the felon's insensible body, then, kneeling, raised up his head and +shoulders, got his strong arms well round him and with some difficulty +rose to his feet. Once upright, it was no hard matter to carry his +burthen through the trees to the road, and up the avenue to his own door. + +"Holmes," said Mr. Juxon to his butler, "this man is badly hurt, but he +is alive. Help me to carry him upstairs." + +There was that in the squire's voice which brooked neither question nor +delay when he was in earnest. The solemn butler took Walter Goddard by +the feet and the squire took him by the shoulders; so they carried him up +to a bedroom and laid him down, feeling for the bed in the dark as they +moved. Holmes then lit a candle with great calmness. + +"Shall I send for the medical man, sir?" he asked quietly. + +"Yes. Send the gig as fast as possible. If he is not at home, or cannot +be found, send on to the town. If anybody asks questions say the man is a +tramp who attacked me in the park and Stamboul pulled him down. Send at +once, and bring me some brandy and light the fire here." + +"Yes, sir," said Holmes, and left the room. + +Mr. Juxon lighted other candles and examined the injured man. There was +now no doubt that he was alive. He breathed faintly but regularly; his +pulse beat less rapidly and more firmly. His face was deadly pale and +very thin, and his half-opened eyes stared unconsciously upwards, but +they were not glazed nor death-like. He seemed to have lost little +blood, comparatively speaking. + +"Bah!" ejaculated the squire. "I believe he is only badly frightened, +after all." + +Holmes brought brandy and warm water and again left the room. Mr. Juxon +bathed Goddard's face and neck with a sponge, eying him suspiciously all +the while. It would not have surprised him at any moment if he had leaped +from the bed and attempted to escape. To guard against surprise, the +squire locked the door and put the key in his pocket, watching the +convict to see whether he noticed the act or was really unconscious. But +Goddard never moved nor turned his motionless eyeballs. Mr. Juxon +returned to his side, and with infinite care began to remove his clothes. +They were almost in rags. He examined each article, and was surprised to +find money in the pockets, amounting to nearly sixty pounds; then he +smiled to himself, remembering that the convict had visited his wife and +had doubtless got the money from her to aid him in his escape. He put the +notes and gold carefully together in a drawer after counting them, and +returning to his occupation succeeded at last in putting Goddard to bed, +after staunching his wounds as well as he could with handkerchiefs. + +He stood long by the bedside, watching the man's regular breathing, and +examining his face attentively. Many strange thoughts passed through his +mind, as he stood there, looking at the man who had caused such misery to +himself, such shame and sorrow to his fair wife, such disappointment to +the honest man who was now trying to save him from the very grasp of +death. So this was Mary Goddard's husband, little Nellie's father--this +grimy wretch, whose foul rags lay heaped there in the corner, whose +miserable head pressed the spotless linen of the pillow, whose +half-closed eyes stared up so senselessly at the squire's face. This was +the man for whose sake Mary Goddard started and turned pale, fainted and +grew sick, languished and suffered so much pain. No wonder she concealed +it from Nellie--no wonder she had feared lest after many years he should +come back and claim her for his wife--no wonder either that a man with +such a face should do bad deeds. + +Mr. Juxon was a judge of faces; persons accustomed for many years to +command men usually are. He noted Walter Goddard's narrow jaw and pointed +chin, his eyes set near together, his wicked lips, parted and revealing +sharp jagged teeth, his ill-shaped ears and shallow temples, his flat low +forehead, shown off by his cropped hair. And yet this man had once been +called handsome, he had been admired and courted. But then his hair had +hidden the shape of his head, his long golden moustache had covered his +mouth and disguised all his lower features, he had been arrayed by +tailors of artistic merit, and he had had much gold in his pockets. He +was a very different object now--the escaped convict, close cropped, with +a half-grown beard upon his ill-shaped face, and for all ornament a linen +sheet drawn up under his chin. + +The squire was surprised that he did not recover consciousness, seeing +that he breathed regularly and was no longer so pale as at first. A faint +flush seemed to rise to his sunken cheeks, and for a long time Mr. Juxon +stood beside him, expecting every moment that he would speak. Once he +thought his lips moved a little. Then Mr. Juxon took a little brandy in a +spoon and raising his head poured it down his throat. The effect was +immediate. Goddard opened wide his eyes, the blood mounted to his cheeks +with a deep flush, and he uttered an inarticulate sound. + +"What did you say?" asked the squire, bending over him. + +But there was no answer. The sick man's head fell back upon the pillow, +though his eyes remained wide open and the flush did not leave his +cheeks. His pulse was now very high, and his breathing grew heavy and +stertorous. + +"I hope I have not made him any worse," remarked Mr. Juxon aloud, as he +contemplated his patient. "But if he is going to die, I wish he would die +now." + +The thought was charitable, on the whole. If Walter Goddard died then and +there, he would be buried in a nameless grave under the shadow of the +old church; no one would ever know that he was the celebrated forger, the +escaped convict, the husband of Mary Goddard. If he lived--heaven alone +knew what complications would follow if he lived. + +There was a knock at the door. Mr. Juxon drew the key from his pocket and +opened it. Holmes the butler stood outside. + +"Mr. Short has come back, sir. He asked if you wished to see him." + +"Ask him to come here," replied the squire, to whom the tension of +keeping his solitary watch was becoming very irksome. In a few moments +John entered the room, looking pale and nervous. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +John Short was in absolute ignorance of what was occurring. He attributed +Mrs. Goddard's anxiety to her solicitude for Mr. Juxon, and if he had +found time to give the matter serious consideration, he would have argued +very naturally that she was fond of the squire. It had been less easy +than the latter had supposed to take her home and persuade her to stay +there, for she was in a state in which she hardly understood reason. +Nothing but John's repeated assurances to the effect that Mr. Juxon was +not in the least hurt, and that he would send her word of the condition +of the wounded tramp, prevailed upon her to remain at the cottage; for +she had come back to consciousness before the dog-cart was fairly out of +the park and had almost refused to enter her own home. + +The catastrophe had happened, after eight and forty hours of suspense, +and her position was one of extreme fear and doubt. She had indeed seen +the squire at the very moment when she fainted, but the impression was +uncertain as that of a dream, and it required all John's asseverations to +persuade her that Mr. Juxon had actually met her and insisted that she +should return to the cottage. Once there, in her own house, she abandoned +herself to the wildest excitement, shutting herself into the drawing-room +and refusing to see anyone; she gave way to all her sorrow and fear, +feeling that if she controlled herself any longer she must go mad. Indeed +it was the best thing she could do, for her nerves were overstrained, and +the hysterical weeping which now completely overpowered her for some +time, was the natural relief to her overwrought system. She had not the +slightest doubt that the tramp of whom John had spoken, and whom he had +described as badly hurt, was her husband; and together with her joy at +Mr. Juxon's escape, she felt an intolerable anxiety to know Walter's +fate. If in ordinary circumstances she had been informed that he had died +in prison, it would have been absurd to expect her to give way to any +expressions of excessive grief; she would perhaps have shed a few womanly +tears and for some time she would have been more sad than usual; but she +no longer loved him and his death could only be regarded as a release +from all manner of trouble and shame and evil foreboding. With his +decease would have ended her fears for poor Nellie, her apprehensions for +the future in case he should return and claim her, the whole weight of +her humiliation, and if she was too kind to have rejoiced over such a +termination of her woes, she was yet too sensible not to have fully +understood and appreciated the fact of her liberation and of the freedom +given to the child she loved, by the death of a father whose return could +bring nothing but disgrace. But now she did not know whether Walter were +alive or dead. If he was alive he was probably so much injured as to +preclude all possibility of his escaping, and he must inevitably be given +up to justice, no longer to imprisonment merely, but by his own +confession to suffer the death of a murderer. If on the other hand he +was already dead, he had died a death less shameful indeed, but of which +the circumstances were too horrible for his wife to contemplate, for he +must have been torn to pieces by Stamboul the bloodhound. + +She unconsciously comprehended all these considerations, which entirely +deprived her of the power to weigh them in her mind, for her mind was +temporarily loosed from all control of the reasoning faculty. She had +borne much during the last three days, but she could bear no more; +intellect and sensibility were alike exhausted and gave way together. +There were indeed moments, intervals in the fits of hysteric tears +and acute mental torture, when she lay quite still in her chair and +vaguely asked herself what it all meant, but her disturbed consciousness +gave no answer to the question, and presently her tears broke out afresh +and she tossed wildly from side to side, or walked hurriedly up and down +the room, wringing her hands in despair, sobbing aloud in her agony and +again abandoning herself to the uncontrolled exaggerations of her grief +and terror. One consolation alone presented itself at intervals to her +confused intelligence; Mr. Juxon was safe. Whatever other fearful thing +had happened, he was safe, saved perhaps by her warning--but what was +that, if Walter had escaped death only to die at the hands of the +hangman, or had found it in the jaws of that fearful bloodhound? What was +the safety even of her best friend, if poor Nellie was to know that her +father was alive, only to learn that he was to die again? + +But human suffering cannot outlast human strength; as a marvellous +adjustment of forces has ordered that even at the pole, in the regions of +boundless and perpetual cold, the sea shall not freeze to the bottom, so +there is also in human nature a point beyond which suffering cannot +extend. The wildest emotions must expend themselves in time, the fiercest +passions must burn out. At the end of two hours Mary Goddard was +exhausted by the vehemence of her hysteric fear, and woke as from a dream +to a dull sense of reality. She knew, now that some power of reflection +was restored to her, that the squire would give her intelligence of what +had happened, so soon as he was able, and she knew also that she must +wait until the morning before any such message could reach her. She took +the candle from the table and went upstairs. Nellie was asleep, but her +mother felt a longing to look at her again that night, not knowing what +misery for her child the morrow might bring forth. + +Nellie lay asleep in her bed, her rich brown hair plaited together and +thrown back across the pillow. The long dark fringes of her eyelashes +cast a shade upon the transparent colour of her cheek, and the light +breath came softly through her parted lips. But as Mary Goddard looked +she saw that there were still tears upon her lovely face and that the +pillow was still wet. She had cried herself to sleep, for Martha had told +her that her mother was very ill and would not see her that night; Nellie +was accustomed to say her prayers at her mother's knee every evening +before going to bed, she was used to having her mother smooth her pillow +and kiss her and put out her light, leaving her with sweet words, to wake +her with sweet words on the next morning, and to-night she had missed all +this and had been told moreover that her mother was very ill and was +acting very strangely. She had gone to bed and had cried herself to +sleep, and the tears were still upon her cheeks. Shading the light +carefully from the child's eyes, Mary Goddard bent down and kissed her +forehead once and then feeling that her sorrow was rising again she +turned and passed noiselessly from the room. + +But Nellie was dreaming peacefully and knew nothing of her mother's +visit; she slept on not knowing that scarcely a quarter of a mile away +her own father, whom she had been taught to think of as dead, was +lying at the Hall, wounded and unconscious while half the detectives in +the kingdom were looking for him. Had Nellie known that, her sleep would +have been little and her dreams few. + +There was little rest at the Hall that night. When Reynolds had driven +John back to the great house he found his way to the kitchen and got his +beer, and he became at once a centre of interest, being overwhelmed with +questions concerning the events of the evening. But he was able to say +very little except that while waiting before the cottage he had heard +strange noises from the park, that Master John had run up the avenue, +that Mrs. Goddard had taken Miss Nellie into the house and had then +insisted upon being driven towards the Hall, that they had met Master +John and the squire and that Mrs. Goddard had been "took wuss." + +Meanwhile John entered the room where Mr. Juxon was watching over Walter +Goddard. John looked pale and nervous; he had not recovered from the +unpleasant sensation of being left alone with what he believed to be a +dead body, in the struggling moonlight and the howling wind. He was by no +means timid by nature, but young nerves are not so tough as old ones and +he had felt exceedingly uncomfortable. He stood a moment within the room, +then glanced at the bed and started with surprise. + +"Why--he is not dead after all!" he exclaimed, and going nearer he looked +hard at Goddard's flushed face. + +"No," said Mr. Juxon, "he is not dead. He may be dying for all I know. I +have sent for the doctor." + +"Was he much hurt?" asked John, still looking at the sick man. "He looks +to me as though he were in a fever." + +"He does not seem so badly hurt. I cannot make it out at all. At first I +thought he was badly frightened, but I cannot bring him to consciousness. +Perhaps he has a fever, as you say. This is a most unpleasant experience, +Mr. Short--your first night at the Hall, too. Of course I am bound to +look after the man, as Stamboul did the damage--it would have served him +right if he had been killed. It was a villainous blow he gave me--I can +feel it still. The moral of it is that one should always wear a thick +ulster when one walks alone at night." + +"I did not know he struck you," said John in some surprise. + +"Jumped out of the copse at the turning and struck at me with a +bludgeon," said Mr. Juxon. "Knocked my hat off, into the bargain, and +then ran away with Stamboul after him. If I had not come up in time +there would have been nothing left of him." + +"I should say the dog saved your life," remarked John, much impressed by +the squire's unadorned tale. "What object can the fellow have had in +attacking you? Strange--his eyes are open, but he does not seem to +understand us." + +Mr. Juxon walked to the bedside and contemplated the sick man's features +with undisguised disgust. + +"You villain!" he said roughly. "Why don't you answer for yourself?" The +man did not move, and the squire began to pace the room. John was struck +by Mr. Juxon's tone: it was not like him, he thought, to speak in that +way to a helpless creature. He could not understand it. There was a long +silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Goddard. + +"Really, Mr. Short," said the squire at last, "I have no intention of +keeping you up all night. The village doctor must have been out. It may +be more than an hour before my man finds another." + +"Never mind," said John quietly. "I will wait till he comes at all +events. You may need me before it is over." + +"Do you think he looks as if he were going to die?" asked the squire +doubtfully, as he again approached the bedside. + +"I don't know," answered John, standing on the other side. "I never saw +any one die. He looks very ill." + +"Very ill. I have seen many people die--but somehow I have a strong +impression that this fellow will live." + +"Let us hope so," said John. + +"Well--" The squire checked himself. Probably the hope he would have +expressed would not have coincided with that to which John had given +utterance. "Well," he repeated, "I daresay he will. Mr. Short, are you at +all nervous? Since you are so good as to say you will wait until the +doctor comes, would you mind very much being left alone here for five +minutes?" + +"No," answered John, stoutly, "not in the least." To be left in a +well-lighted room by the bedside of Walter Goddard, ill indeed, but alive +and breathing vigorously, was very different from being requested to +watch his apparently dead body out in the park under the moonlight. + +With a word of thanks, the squire left the room, and hastened to his +study, where he proceeded to write a note, as follows:-- + +"MY DEAR MR. AMBROSE--The man we were speaking of yesterday morning +actually attacked me this evening. Stamboul worried him badly, but he is +not dead. He is lying here, well cared for, and I have sent for the +doctor. If convenient to you, would you come in the morning? I need not +recommend discretion.--Sincerely yours, + +"C.J. JUXON. +_N.B._--I am not hurt." + +Having ascertained that Reynolds was still in the kitchen, the missive +was given to the old man with an injunction to use all speed, as the +vicar might be going to bed and the note was important. + +John, meanwhile, being left alone sat down near the wounded man's bed and +waited, glancing at the flushed face and staring eyes from time to time, +and wondering whether the fellow would recover. The young scholar had +been startled by all that had occurred, and his ideas wandered back to +the beginning of the evening, scarcely realising that a few hours ago he +had not met Mrs. Goddard, had not experienced a surprising change in his +feelings towards her, had not witnessed the strange scene under the +trees. It seemed as though all these things had occupied a week at the +very least, whereas on that same afternoon he had been speculating upon +his meeting with Mrs. Goddard, calling up her features to his mind as he +had last seen them, framing speeches which when the meeting came he had +not delivered, letting his mind run riot in the delicious anticipation of +appearing before her in the light of a successful competitor for one of +the greatest honours of English scholarship. And yet in a few hours all +his feelings were changed, and to his infinite surprise, were changed +without any suffering to himself; he knew well that, for some reason, +Mrs. Goddard had lost the mysterious power of making him blush, and of +sending strange thrills through his whole nature when he sat at her side; +with some justice he attributed his new indifference to the extraordinary +alteration in her appearance, whereby she seemed now so much older than +himself, and he forthwith moralised upon the mutability of human affairs, +with all the mental fluency of a very young man whose affairs are still +extremely mutable. He fell to musing on the accident in the park, +wondering how he would have acted in Mr. Juxon's place, wondering +especially what object could have led the wretched tramp to attack the +squire, wondering too at the very great anxiety shown by Mrs. Goddard. + +As he sat by the bedside, the sick man suddenly moved and turning his +eyes full upon John's face stared at him with a look of dazed surprise. +He thrust out his wounded hand, bound up in a white handkerchief through +which a little blood was slowly oozing, and to John's infinite surprise +he spoke. + +"Who are you?" he asked in a strange, mumbling voice, as though he had +pebbles in his mouth. + +John started forward in his chair and looked intently at Goddard's face. + +"My name is Short," he answered mechanically. But the passing flash of +intelligence was already gone, and Goddard's look became a glassy and +idiotic stare. Still his lips moved. John came nearer and listened. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" said the sick man quite +intelligibly, in spite of his uncertain tone. John uttered an exclamation +of astonishment; his heart beat fast and he listened intently. The sick +man mumbled inarticulate sounds; not another word could be distinguished. +John looked for the bell, thinking that Mr. Juxon should be informed of +the strange phenomenon at once; but before he could ring the squire +himself entered the room, having finished and despatched his note to Mr. +Ambrose. + +"It is most extraordinary," said John. "He spoke just now--" + +"What did he say?" asked Mr. Juxon very quickly. + +"He said first, 'Who are you?' and then he said 'Mary Goddard, let me +in!' Is it not most extraordinary? How in the world should he know +about Mrs. Goddard?" + +The squire turned a little pale and was silent for a moment. He had left +John with the wounded man feeling sure that, for some time at least, the +latter would not be likely to say anything intelligible. + +"Most extraordinary!" he repeated presently. Then he looked at Goddard +closely, and turned him again upon his back and put his injured hand +beneath the sheet. + +"Do you understand me? Do you know who I am?" he asked in a loud tone +close to his ear. + +But the unfortunate man gave no sign of intelligence, only his +inarticulate mumbling grew louder though not more distinct. Mr. Juxon +turned away impatiently. + +"The fellow is in a delirium," he said. "I wish the doctor would come." +He had hardly turned his back when the man spoke again. + +"Mary Goddard!" he cried. "Let me in!" + +"There!" said John. "The same words!" + +Mr. Juxon shuddered, and looked curiously at his companion; then thrust +his hands into his pockets and whistling softly walked about the room. +John was shocked at what seemed in the squire a sort of indecent levity; +he could not understand that his friend felt as though he should go mad. + +Indeed the squire suffered intensely. The name of Mary Goddard, +pronounced by the convict in his delirium brought home more vividly than +anything could have done the relation between the wounded tramp and the +woman the squire loved. It was positively true, then--there was not a +shadow of doubt left, since this wretch lay there mumbling her name in +his ravings! This was the husband of that gentle creature with sad +pathetic eyes, so delicate, so refined that it seemed as though the +coarser breath of the world of sin and shame could never come near +her--this was her husband! It was horrible. This was the father of lovely +Nellie, too. Was anything wanting to make the contrast more hideous? + +Mr. Juxon felt that it was impossible to foresee what Walter Goddard +might say in the course of another hour. He had often seen people in a +delirium and knew how strangely that inarticulate murmuring sometimes +breaks off into sudden incisive speech, astonishing every one who hears. +The man had already betrayed that he knew Mary Goddard; at the next +interval in his ravings he might betray that she was his wife. John was +still standing by the bedside, not having recovered from his +astonishment; if John heard any more, he would be in possession of Mrs. +Goddard's secret. The squire was an energetic man, equal to most +emergencies; he suddenly made up his mind. + +"Mr. Short," he said, "I will tell you something. You will see the +propriety of being very discreet, in fact it is only to ensure your +discretion that I wish to tell you this much. I have reason to believe +that this fellow is a convict--do not be surprised--escaped from prison. +He is a man who once--was in love with Mrs. Goddard, which accounts for +his having found his way to Billingsfield. Yes--I know what you are going +to say--Mrs. Goddard is aware of his presence, and that accounts for her +excitement and her fainting. Do you understand?" + +"But--good heavens!" exclaimed John in amazement. "Why did she not give +information, if she knew he was in the neighbourhood?" + +"That would be more than could be expected of any woman, Mr. Short. You +forget that the man once loved her." + +"And how did you--well, no. I won't ask any questions." + +"No," said the squire, "please don't. You would be placing me in a +disagreeable position. Not that I do not trust you implicitly, Mr. +Short," he added frankly, "but I should be betraying a confidence. If +this fellow dies here, he will be buried as an unknown tramp. I found no +trace of a name upon his clothes. If he recovers, we will decide what +course to pursue. We will do our best for him--it is a delicate case of +conscience. Possibly the poor fellow would very much prefer being allowed +to die; but we cannot let him. Humanity, for some unexplained reason, +forbids euthanasia and the use of the hemlock in such cases." + +"Was he sentenced for a long time?" asked John, very much impressed by +the gravity of the situation. + +"Twelve years originally, I believe. Aggravated by his escape and by his +assault on me, his term might very likely be extended to twenty years if +he were taken again." + +"That is to say, if he recovers?" inquired John. + +"Precisely. I do not think I would hesitate to send him back to prison if +he recovered." + +"I do not wonder you think he would rather die here, if he were +consulted," said John. "It would not be murder to let him die +peacefully--" + +"In the opinion of the law it might be called manslaughter, though I do +not suppose anything would be said if I had simply placed him here and +omitted to call in a physician. He cannot live very long in this state, +unless something is done for him immediately. Look at him." + +There was no apparent change in Goddard's condition. He lay upon his back +staring straight upward and mumbling aloud with every breath he drew. + +"He must have been ill, before he attacked me," continued Mr. Juxon, very +much as though he were talking to himself. "He evidently is in a raging +fever--brain fever I should think. That is probably the reason why he +missed his aim--that and the darkness. If he had been well he would have +killed me fast enough with that bludgeon. As you say, Mr. Short, there is +no doubt whatever that he would prefer to die here, if he had his choice. +In my opinion, too, it would be far more merciful to him and to--to him +in fact. Nevertheless, neither you nor I would like to remember that we +had let him die without doing all we could to keep him alive. It is +a very singular case." + +"Most singular," echoed John. + +"Besides--there is another thing. Suppose that he had attacked me as he +did, but that I had killed him with my stick--or that Stamboul had made +an end of him then and there. The law would have said it served him +right--would it not? Of course. But if I had not quite killed him, or, as +has actually happened, he survived the embraces of my dog, the law +insists that I ought to do everything in my power to save the remnant of +his life. What for? In order that the law may give itself the +satisfaction of dealing with him according to its lights. I think the law +is very greedy, I object to it, I think it is ridiculous from that point +of view, but then, when I come to examine the thing I find that my own +conscience tells me to save him, although I think it best that he should +die. Therefore the law is not ridiculous. Pleasant dilemma--the +impossible case! The law is at the same time ridiculous and not +ridiculous. The question is, does the law deduce itself from conscience, +or is conscience the direct result of existing law?" + +The squire appeared to be in a strangely moralising mood, and John +listened to him with some surprise. He could not understand that the good +man was talking to persuade himself, and to concentrate his faculties, +which had been almost unbalanced by the events of the evening. + +"I think," said John with remarkable good sense, "that the instinct of +man is to preserve life when he is calm. When a man is fighting with +another he is hot and tries to kill his enemy; when the fight is over, +the natural instinct returns." + +"The only thing worth knowing in such cases is the precise point at which +the fight may be said to be over. I once knew a young surgeon in India +who thought he had killed a cobra and proceeded to extract the fangs in +order to examine the poison. Unfortunately the snake was not quite dead; +he bit the surgeon in the finger and the poor fellow died in +thirty-five minutes." + +"Dreadful!" said John. "But you do not think this poor fellow could do +anything very dangerous now--do you?" + +"Oh, dear me, no!" returned the squire. "I was only stating a case to +prove that one is sometimes justified in going quite to the end of a +fight. No indeed! He will not be dangerous for some time, if he ever is +again. But, as I was saying, he must have been ill some time. Delirium +never comes on in this way, so soon--" + +Some one knocked at the door. It was Holmes, who came to say that the +physician, Doctor Longstreet, had arrived. + +"Oh--it is Doctor Longstreet is it?" said the squire. "Ask him to come +up." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Doctor Longstreet was not the freethinking physician of Billingsfield. +The latter was out when Mr. Juxon's groom went in search of him, and the +man had driven on to the town, six miles away. The doctor was an old man +with a bright eye, a deeply furrowed forehead, a bald head and clean +shaved face. He walked as though his frame were set together with springs +and there was a curious snapping quickness in his speech. He seemed full +of vitality and bore his years with a jaunty air of merriment which +inspired confidence, for he seemed perpetually laughing at the ills of +the flesh and ready to make other people laugh at them too. But his +bright eyes had a penetrating look and though he judged quickly he +generally was right in his opinion. He entered the room briskly, not +knowing that the sick man was there. + +"Now, Mr. Juxon," he said cheerfully, "I am with you." He had the habit +of announcing his presence in this fashion, as though his brisk and +active personality were likely to be overlooked. A moment later he caught +sight of the bed. "Dear me," he added in a lower voice, "I did not know +our patient was here." + +He went to Walter Goddard's side, looked at him attentively, felt his +pulse, and his forehead, glanced at the bandages the squire had roughly +put upon his throat and hand, drew up the sheet again beneath his chin +and turned sharply round. + +"Brain fever, sir," he said cheerfully. "Brain fever. You must get some +ice and have some beef tea made as soon as possible. He is in a very +bad way--curious, too; he looks like a cross between a ticket of leave +man and a gentleman. Tramp, you say? That would not prevent his being +either. You cannot disturb him--don't be afraid. He hears nothing--is +off, the Lord knows where, raving delirious. Must look to his scratches +though--dangerous--inflammation. Do you mind telling me what +happened--how long he has been here?" + +The squire in a few words informed Doctor Longstreet of the attack made +upon him in the park. The doctor looked at his watch. + +"Only two hours and a half since," he remarked. "It is just midnight now, +very good--the man must have been in a fever all day--yesterday, too, +perhaps. He is not badly hurt by the dog--like to see that dog, if you +don't mind--the fright most likely sent him into delirium. You have +nothing to accuse yourself of, Mr. Juxon: it was certainly not your +fault. Even if the dog had not bitten him, he would most likely have been +in his present state by this time. Would you mind sending for some ice at +once? Thank you. It was very lucky for the fellow that he attacked you +just when he did--secured him the chance of being well taken care of. If +he had gone off like this in the park he would have been dead before +morning." + +The squire rang and sent for the ice the doctor demanded. + +"Do you think he will live?" he asked nervously. + +"I don't know," answered Doctor Longstreet, frankly. "Nobody can tell. He +is very much exhausted--may live two or three days in this state and then +die or go to sleep and get well--may die in the morning--often do--cannot +say. With a great deal of care, I think he has a chance." + +"I am very anxious to save him," said the squire, looking hard at the +physician. + +"Very good of you, I am sure," replied Doctor Longstreet, cheerfully. "It +is not everybody who would take so much trouble for a tramp. Of course if +he dies people will say your dog killed him; but I will sign a paper to +the effect that it is not true. If he had left you and your dog alone, he +would have been dead in the morning to an absolute certainty." + +"How very extraordinary!" exclaimed the squire, suddenly realising that +instead of causing the man's death Stamboul had perhaps saved his life. + +"It was certainly very odd that he should have chosen the best moment for +assaulting you," continued the doctor. "It is quite possible that even +then he was under some delusion--took you for somebody else--some old +enemy. People do queer things in a brain fever. By the bye has he said +anything intelligible since he has been here?" + +John Short who had been standing silently by the bedside during the whole +interview looked up quickly at the squire, wondering how he would answer. +But Mr. Juxon did not hesitate. + +"Yes. Twice he repeated a woman's name. That is very natural, I suppose. +Do you think he will have any lucid moments for some time?" + +"May," said the doctor, "may. When he does it is likely to be at the +turning point; he will either die or be better very soon after. If it +comes soon he may say something intelligible. If he is much more +exhausted than he is now, he will understand you, but you will not +understand him. Meningitis always brings a partial paralysis of the +tongue, when the patient is exhausted. Most probably he will go on +moaning and mumbling, as he does now, for another day. You will be able +to tell by his eye whether he understands anything; perhaps he will make +some sign with his head or hand. Ah--here is the ice." + +Doctor Longstreet went about his operations in a rapid and business like +fashion and John gave what assistance he could. The squire stood leaning +against the chimney-piece in deep thought. + +Indeed he had enough to think of, when he had fully weighed the meaning +of the doctor's words. He was surprised beyond measure at the turn things +had taken; for although, as he had previously told John, he suspected +that Goddard must have been in a fever for several hours before the +assault, it had not struck him that Stamboul's attack had been absolutely +harmless, still less that it might prove to have been the means of saving +the convict's life. It was terribly hard to say that he desired to save +the man, and yet the honest man in his heart prayed that he might really +hope for that result. It would be far worse, should Goddard die, to +remember that he had wished for his death. But it would be hard to +imagine a more unexpected position than that in which the squire found +himself; by a perfectly natural chain of circumstances he was now tending +with the utmost care the man who had tried to murder him, and who of all +men in the world, stood most in the way of the accomplishment of his +desires. + +He could not hide from himself the fact that he hated the sick man, even +though he hoped, or tried to hope for his recovery. He hated him for the +shame and suffering he had brought upon Mary Goddard in the first +instance, for the terrible anxiety he had caused her by his escape and +sudden appearance at her house; he hated him for being what he was, being +also the father of Nellie, and he hated him honestly for his base attempt +upon himself that night. He had good cause to hate him, and perhaps he +was not ashamed of his hatred. To be called upon, however, to return good +for such an accumulated mass of evil was almost too much for his human +nature. It was but a faint satisfaction to think that if he recovered he +was to be sent back to prison. Mr. Juxon did not know that there was +blood upon the man's hands--he had yet to learn that; he would not deign +to mention the assault in the park when he handed him over to the +authorities; the man should simply go back to Portland to suffer the term +of his imprisonment, as soon as he should be well enough to be moved--if +that time ever came. If he died, he should be buried decently in a +nameless grave, "six feet by four, by two," as Thomas Reid would have +said--if he died. + +Meanwhile, however, there was yet another consideration which disturbed +the squire's meditations. Mrs. Goddard had a right to know that her +husband was dying and, if she so pleased, she had a right to be at his +bedside. But at the same time it would be necessary so to account for her +presence as not to arouse Doctor Longstreet's suspicions, nor the +comments of Holmes, the butler, and of his brigade in the servants' hall. +It was no easy matter to do this unless Mrs. Goddard were accompanied by +the vicar's wife, the excellent and maternally minded Mrs. Ambrose. To +accomplish this it would be necessary to ask the latter lady to spend a +great part of her time at the Hall in taking care of the wretched +Goddard, who would again be the gainer. But Mrs. Ambrose was as yet +ignorant of the fact that he had escaped from prison; she must be told +then, and an effort must be made to elicit her sympathy. Perhaps she and +the vicar would come and stop a few days, thought the squire. Mrs. +Goddard might then come and go as she pleased. Her presence by her +husband's bedside would then be accounted for on the ground of her +charitable disposition. + +While Mr. Juxon was revolving these things in his mind he watched the +doctor and John who were doing what was necessary for the sick man. +Goddard moaned helplessly with every breath, in a loud, monotonous tone, +very wearing to the nerves of those who heard it. + +"There is little to be done," said Doctor Longstreet at last. "He must be +fed--alternately a little beef tea and then a little weak brandy and +water. We must try and keep the system up. That is his only chance. I +will prescribe something and send it back by the groom." + +"You are not going to leave us to-night?" exclaimed the squire in alarm. + +"Must. Very sorry. Bad case of diphtheria in town--probably die before +morning, unless I get there in time--I would not have come here for any +one else. I will certainly be here before ten--he will live till then, I +fancy, and I don't believe there will be any change in his condition. +Good-night, Mr. Juxon--beef tea and brandy every quarter of an hour. +Good-night, Mr.--" he turned to John. + +"Short," said John. "Good-night, doctor." + +"Ah--I remember--used to be with Mr. Ambrose--yes. Delighted to meet you +again, Mr. Short--good-night." + +The doctor vanished, before either the squire or John had time to follow +him. His departure left an unpleasant sense of renewed responsibility in +the squire's mind. + +"You had better go to bed, Mr. Short," he said kindly. "I will sit up +with him." + +But John would not hear of any such arrangement; he insisted upon bearing +his share of the watching and stoutly refused to leave the squire alone. +There was a large dressing-room attached to the room where Goddard was +lying; the squire and John finally agreed to watch turn and turn about, +one remaining with Goddard, while the other rested upon the couch in the +dressing-room aforesaid. The squire insisted upon taking his watch first, +and John lay down. It was past midnight and he was very tired, but it +seemed impossible to sleep with the sound of that loud, monotonous +mumbling perpetually in his ears. It was a horrible night, and John Short +never forgot it so long as he lived. Years afterwards he could not enter +the room where Goddard had lain without fancying he heard that perpetual +groaning still ringing in his ears. For many hours it continued unabated +and unchanging, never dying away to silence nor developing to articulate +words. From time to time John could hear the squire's step as he moved +about, administering the nourishment prescribed. If he had had the +slightest idea of Mr. Juxon's state of mind he would hardly have left him +even to rest awhile in the next room. + +Fortunately the squire's nerves were solid. A firm constitution hardened +by thirty years of seafaring and by the consistent and temperate +regularity which was part of his character, had so toughened his natural +strength as to put him almost beyond the reach of mortal ills; otherwise +he must have broken down under the mental strain thus forced upon him. It +is no light thing to do faithfully the utmost to save a man one has good +reason to hate, and whose death would be an undoubted blessing to every +one who has anything to do with him. Walter Goddard was to Charles Juxon +at once an enemy, an obstacle and a rival; an enemy, for having attempted +his life, an obstacle, because while he lived he prevented the squire +from marrying Mrs. Goddard and a rival because she had once loved him and +for the sake of that love was still willing to sacrifice much for him. +And yet the very fact that she had loved him made it easier to be kind to +him; it seemed to the squire that, after all, in taking care of Goddard +he was in some measure serving her, too, seeing that she would have done +the same thing herself could she have been present. + +Yet there was something very generous and large-hearted in the way +Charles Juxon did his duty by the sick man. There are people who seem by +nature designed to act heroic parts in life, whose actions habitually +take an heroic form, and whose whole character is of another stamp from +that of average humanity. Of such people much is expected, because they +seem to offer much; no one is surprised to hear of their making great +sacrifices, no one is astonished if they exhibit great personal courage +in times of danger. Very often they are people of large vanity, whose +chiefest vanity is not to seem vain; gifted with great powers and always +seeking opportunities of using them, holding high ideas upon most +subjects but rarely conceiving themselves incapable of attaining to any +ideal they select for their admiration; brave in combat partly from real +courage, partly, as I have often heard officers say of a dandy soldier in +the ranks, because they are too proud to run away; but, on the whole, +heroic by temperament and in virtue of a singular compound of pride, +strength and virtue, often accomplishing really great things. They are +almost always what are called striking people, for their pride and their +strength generally attract attention by their magnitude, and something in +their mere appearance distinguishes them from the average mass. + +But Charles Juxon did not in any way belong to this type, any more than +the other persons who found themselves concerned in the events which +culminated in Goddard's illness. He was a very simple man whose pride was +wholly unconscious, who did not believe himself destined to do anything +remarkable, who regarded his own personality as rather uninteresting and +who, had he been asked about himself, would have been the first to +disclaim any sentiments of the heroic kind. With very little imagination, +he possessed great stability himself and great belief in the stability of +things in general, a character of the traditional kind known as +"northern," though it would be much more just to describe it as the +"temperate" or "central" type of man. Wherever there is exaggeration in +nature, there is exaggerated imagination in man. The solid and +unimaginative part of the English character is undeniably derived from +the Angles or from the Flemish; it is morally the best part, but it is by +all odds the least interesting--it is found in the type of man belonging +to the plains in a temperate zone, who differs in every respect from the +real northman, his distant cousin and hereditary enemy. If Charles Juxon +was remarkable for anything it was for his modesty and reticence, in a +word, for his apparent determination not to be remarkable at all. + +And now, in the extremest anxiety and difficulty, his character served +him well; for he unconsciously refused to allow to himself that his +position was extraordinary or his responsibility greater than he was +able to bear. He disliked intensely the idea of being put forward or +thrust into a dramatic situation, and he consequently failed signally to +fulfil the dramatic necessities. There was not even a struggle in his +heart between the opposite possibilities of letting Goddard die, by +merely relaxing his attention, and of redoubling his care and bringing +about his recovery. He never once asked himself, after the chances of the +patient surviving the fever were stated, whether he would not be +justified in sending for some honest housewife from the village to take +care of the tramp instead of looking to his wants himself. He simply did +his best to save the man's life, without hesitation, without suspecting +that he was doing anything extraordinary, doing, as he had always done, +the best thing that came in his way according to the best of his ability. +He could not wholly suppress the reflection that much good might ensue +from Goddard's death, but the thought never for a moment interfered with +his efforts to save the convict alive. + +But John lay in the next room, kept awake by the sick man's perpetual +groaning and by the train of thought which ran through his brain. There +were indeed more strange things than his philosophy could account for, +but the strangest of all was that the squire should know who the tramp +was; he must know it, John thought, since he knew all about him, his +former love for Mrs. Goddard and his recent presence in the +neighbourhood. The young man's curiosity was roused to its highest pitch, +and he longed to know more. He at once guessed that there must have +been much intimate confidence between Mr. Juxon and Mrs. Goddard; he +suspected moreover that there must be some strange story connected with +her, something which accounted for the peculiar stamp of a formerly +luxurious life which still clung to her, and which should explain her +residence in Billingsfield But John was very far from suspecting the real +truth. + +His mind was restless and the inaction became intolerable to him. He rose +at last and went again into the room where his friend was watching. Mr. +Juxon sat by the bedside, the very picture of patience, one leg crossed +over the other and his hands folded together upon his knee, his face +paler than usual but perfectly calm, his head bent a little to one side +and his smooth hair, which had been slightly ruffled in the encounter in +the park, as smooth as ever. It was a very distinctive feature of him; it +was part of the sleek and spotless neatness which Mrs. Ambrose so much +admired. + +"It is my turn, now," said John. "Will you lie down for a couple of +hours?" + +The squire rose. Being older and less excitable than John, he was +beginning to feel the need of rest. People who have watched often by the +sick know how terribly long are those hours of the night between three +o'clock and dawn; long always, but seeming interminable when one is +obliged to listen perpetually to a long-drawn, inarticulate moaning, a +constant effort to speak which never results in words. + +"You are very good," said Mr. Juxon, quietly. "If you will give him the +things from time to time, I will take a nap." + +With that he went and lay down upon the couch, and in three minutes was +as sound asleep as though he were in bed. John sat by the sick man and +looked at his flushed features and listened to the hard-drawn breath +followed each time by that terrible, monotonous, mumbling groan. + +It might have been three-quarters of an hour since the squire had gone to +sleep when John thought he saw a change in Goddard's face; it seemed to +him that the flush subsided from his forehead, very slowly, leaving only +a bright burning colour in his cheeks. His eyes seemed suddenly to grow +clearer and a strange look of intelligence came into them; his whole +appearance was as though illuminated by a flash of some light different +from that of the candles which burned upon the table. John rose to his +feet and came and looked at him. The groaning suddenly ceased and +Goddard's eyelids, which had been motionless for hours, moved naturally. +He appeared to be observing John's face attentively. + +"Where is the squire?" he asked quite naturally--so naturally that John +was startled. + +"Asleep in the next room," replied the latter. + +"I did not kill him after all," said Goddard, turning himself a little as +though to be more at his ease. + +"No," answered John. "He is not hurt at all. Can you tell me who you +are?" For his life, he could not help asking the question. It seemed so +easy to find out who the fellow was, now that he could speak +intelligibly. But Goddard's face contracted suddenly, in a hideous smile. + +"Don't you wish you knew?" he said roughly. "But I know you, my boy, I +know you--ha! ha! There's no getting away from you, my boy, is there?" + +"Who am I?" asked John in astonishment. + +"You are the hangman," said Goddard. "I know you very well. The hangman +is always so well dressed. I say, old chap, turn us off quick, you +know--no fumbling about the bolt. Look here--I like your face," he +lowered his voice--"there are nearly sixty pounds in my right-hand +trouser pocket--there are--Mary--ah--gave--M--a--" + +Again his eyes fixed themselves and the moaning began and continued. John +was horror-struck and stood for a moment gazing at his face, over which +the deep flush had spread once more, seeming to obliterate all appearance +of intelligence. Then the young man put his hand beneath Goddard's head +and gently replaced him in his former position, smoothing the pillows, +and giving him a little brandy. He debated whether or not he should call +the squire from his rest to tell him what had happened, but seeing that +Goddard had now returned to his former state, he supposed such moments of +clear speech were to be expected from time to time. He sat down again, +and waited; then after a time he went to the window and looked anxiously +for the dawn. It seemed an intolerably long night. + +But the day came at last and shed a ghastly grey tinge upon the +sick-room, revealing as it were the outlines of all that was bad to look +at, which the warm yellow candle-light had softened with a kindlier +touch. John accidentally looked at himself in the mirror as he passed and +was startled at his own pale face; but the convict, labouring in the +ravings of his fever, seemed unconscious of the dawning day; he was not +yet exhausted and his harsh voice never ceased its jarring gibber. John +wondered whether he should ever spend such a night again, and shuddered +at the recollection of each moment. + +The daylight waked the squire from his slumbers, however, and before the +sun was up he came out of the dressing-room, looking almost as fresh as +though nothing had happened to him in the night. Accustomed for years to +rise at all hours, in all weathers, unimpressionable, calm and strong, he +seemed superior to the course of events. + +"Well, Mr. Short, you allowed me a long nap. You must be quite worn out, +I should think. How is the patient?" + +John told what had occurred. + +"Took you for the hangman, did he?" said the squire. "I wonder why--but +you say he asked after me very sensibly?" + +"Quite so. It was when I asked him his own name, that he began raving +again," answered John innocently. + +"What made you ask him that?" asked Mr. Juxon, who did not seem pleased. + +"Curiosity," was John's laconic answer. + +"Yes--but I fancy it frightened him. If I were you I would not do it +again, if he has a lucid moment. I imagine it was fright that made him +delirious in the first instance." + +"All right," quoth John. "I won't." But he made his own deductions. The +squire evidently knew who he was, and did not want John to know, for some +unexplained reason. The young man wondered what the reason could be; the +mere name of the wretched man was not likely to convey any idea to his +mind, for it was highly improbable that he had ever met him before his +conviction. So John departed to his own room and refreshed himself with +a tub, while the squire kept watch by daylight. + +It was not yet eight o'clock when Holmes brought a note from the vicar, +which Mr. Juxon tore open and read with anxious interest. + +"MY DEAR MR. JUXON--I received your note late last night, but I judged it +better to answer this morning, not wishing to excite suspicion by sending +to you at so late an hour. The intelligence is indeed alarming and you +will, I daresay, understand me, when I tell you that I found it necessary +to communicate it to Mrs. Ambrose--" + +The squire could not refrain from smiling at the vicar's way of putting +the point; but he read quickly on. + +"She however--and I confess my surprise and gratification--desires to +accompany me to the Hall this morning, volunteering to take all possible +care of the unfortunate man. As she has had much experience in visiting +the sick, I fancy that she will render us very valuable assistance in +saving his life. Pray let me know if the plan has your approval, as it +may be dangerous to lose time.--Yours sincerely, + +"AUGUSTIN AMBROSE." + +Mr. Juxon was delighted to find that the difficult task of putting Mrs. +Ambrose in possession of the facts of the case had been accomplished in +the ordinary, the very ordinary, course of events by her own +determination to find out what was to be known. In an hour she might be +at Goddard's bedside, and Mrs. Goddard would be free to see her husband. +He despatched a note at once and redoubled his attentions to the sick man +whose condition, however, showed no signs of changing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +Mrs. Ambrose kept her word and arrived with the vicar before nine +o'clock, protesting her determination to take care of poor Goddard, so +long as he needed any care. Mr. Juxon warned her that John did not know +who the man was, and entreated her to be careful of her speech when John +was present. There was no reason why John should ever know anything more +about it, he said; three could keep a secret, but no one knew whether +four could be as discreet. + +The squire took Mrs. Ambrose and her husband to Goddard's room and +telling her that Doctor Longstreet was expected in an hour, by which time +he himself hoped to have returned, he left the two good people in charge +of the sick man and went to see Mrs. Goddard. He sent John a message to +the effect that all was well and that he should take some rest while the +Ambroses relieved the watch, and having thus disposed his household he +went out, bound upon one of the most disagreeable errands he had ever +undertaken. But he set his teeth and walked boldly down the park. + +At the turn of the avenue he paused, at the spot where Goddard had +attacked him. There was nothing to be seen at first, for the road was +hard and dry and there was no trace of the scuffle; but as the squire +looked about he spied his hat, lying in the ditch, and picked it up. It +was heavy with the morning dew and the brim was broken and bent where +Goddard's weapon had struck it. Hard by in a heap of driven oak leaves +lay the weapon itself, which Mr. Juxon examined curiously. It was a +heavy piece of hewn oak, evidently very old, and at one end a thick iron +spike was driven through, the sharp point projecting upon one side and +the wrought head upon the other. He turned it over in his hands and +realised that he had narrowly escaped his death. Then he laid the hat and +the club together and threw a handful of leaves over them, intending to +take them to the Hall at a later hour, and he turned to go upon his way +towards the cottage. But as he turned he saw two men coming towards him, +and now not twenty yards away. His heart sank, for one of the two was +Thomas Gall the village constable; the other was a quiet-looking +individual with grey whiskers, plainly dressed and unassuming in +appearance. Instinctively the squire knew that Gall's companion must be a +detective. He was startled, and taken altogether unawares; but the men +were close upon him and there was nothing to be done but to face them +boldly. + +Gall made his usual half military salute as he came up, and the man in +plain clothes raised his hat politely. + +"The gentleman from Lunnon, sir," said Gall by way of introduction, +assuming an air of mysterious importance. + +"Yes?" said Mr. Juxon interrogatively. "Do you wish to speak to me?" + +"The gentleman's come on business, sir. In point of fact, sir, it's the +case we was speakin' of lately." + +The squire knew very well what was the matter. Indeed, he had wondered +that the detective had not arrived sooner. That did not make it any +easier to receive him, however; on the contrary, if he had come on the +previous day matters would have been much simpler. + +"Very well, Gall," answered Mr. Juxon. "I am much obliged to you for +bringing Mr.--" he paused and looked at the man in plain clothes. + +"Booley, sir," said the detective. + +"Thank you--yes--for bringing Mr. Booley so far. You may go home, Gall. +If we need your services we will send to your house." + +"It struck me, sir," remarked Gall with a bland smile, "as perhaps I +might be of use--prefeshnal in fact, sir." + +"I will send for you," said the detective, shortly. The manners of the +rural constabulary had long ceased to amuse him. + +Gall departed rather reluctantly, but to make up for being left out of +the confidential interview which was to follow, he passed his thumb round +his belt and thrust out his portly chest as he marched down the avenue. +He subsequently spoke very roughly to a little boy who was driving an old +sheep to the butcher's at the other end of the village. + +Mr. Juxon and the detective turned back and walked slowly towards the +Hall. + +"Will you be good enough to state exactly what the business is," said the +squire, well knowing that it was best to go straight to the point. + +"You are Mr. Juxon, I believe?" inquired Mr. Booley looking at his +companion sharply. The squire nodded. "Very good, Mr. Juxon," continued +the official. "I am after a man called Walter Goddard. Do you know +anything about him? His wife, Mrs. Mary Goddard, lives in this village." + +"Walter Goddard is at this moment in my house," said the squire calmly. +"I know all about him. He lay in wait for me at this very spot last night +and attacked me. My dog pulled him down." + +The detective was somewhat surprised at the intelligence, and at the cool +manner in which his companion conveyed it. + +"I am very glad to hear that. In that case I will take him at once." + +"I fear that is impossible," answered the squire. "The man is raving in +the delirium of a brain fever. Meanwhile I shall be glad if you will stay +in the house, until he is well enough to be moved. The doctor will be +here at ten o'clock, and he will give you the details of the case better +than I can. It would be quite impossible to take him away at present." + +"May I ask," inquired Mr. Booley severely, "why you did not inform the +local police?" + +"Because it would have been useless. If he had escaped after attacking +me, I should have done so. But since I caught him, and found him to be +very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him +myself. Mrs. Goddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her +story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do +her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also +acquainted with the circumstances, is at this moment taking care of the +sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the +Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient +guarantee--" + +"Oh, there is no question of guarantee," said Mr. Booley. "I assure you, +Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best. +Can you tell me how long Goddard has been in the neighbourhood?" + +The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate +Mrs. Goddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not +positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else +had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that Goddard +could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the +capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him. + +"That is doubtful," said the squire. "When I left him just now he was +quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a +time might kill him outright." + +"It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man," remarked +Mr. Booley. "Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the +servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. Goddard, too." + +"That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house, +now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps +tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her +very much." + +"Well, well, we will see about it," answered Mr. Booley. They reached the +house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to +wait for his return. + +It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the +position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the +house waiting to carry off Goddard, so soon as he should be well enough +to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The +longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time +unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. Goddard of Booley's arrival. +He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing +her to her husband's bedside. + +He found her waiting for him, and was struck by the calmness she +displayed. To tell the truth the violence of her emotions had been wholly +expended on the previous night and the reaction had brought an intense +melancholy quiet, which almost frightened Mr. Juxon. The habit of bearing +great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well +learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as +though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent +suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account +of what had happened. + +"You are not hurt?" she asked, almost incredulously. Her eyes rested on +her friend's face with a wistful look. + +"No, I assure you, not in the least," he said. "But your poor husband is +very ill--very ill indeed." + +"Tell me," said she quietly, "is he dead? Are you trying to break it to +me?" + +"No--no indeed. He is alive--he may even recover. But that is very +uncertain. It might be best to wait until the doctor has been again. I +will come back and fetch you--" + +"Oh, no, I will go at once. I would like to walk. It will do me good." + +So the two set out without further words upon their errand. Mr. Juxon had +purposely omitted to speak of Mr. Booley's arrival. It would be easy, he +thought, to prevent them from meeting in the great house. + +"Do you know," said Mary Goddard, as they walked together, "it is very +hard to wish that he may recover--" she stopped short. + +"Very hard," answered the squire. "His life must be one of misery, if he +lives." + +"Of course you would send him back?" she asked nervously. + +"My dear friend, there is no other course open to me. Your own safety +requires it." + +"God knows--you would only be doing right," she said and was silent +again. She knew, though the squire did not, what fate awaited Walter +Goddard if he were given up to justice. She knew that he had taken life +and must pay the penalty. Yet she was very calm; her senses were all +dulled and yet her thoughts seemed to be consecutive and rational. She +realised fully that the case of life and death was ill balanced; death +had it which ever course events might take, and she could not save her +husband. She thought of it calmly and calmly hoped that he might die now, +in his bed, with her by his side. It was a better fate. + +"You say that the doctor thinks he must have been ill some time?" she +asked after a time. + +"Yes--he was quite sure of it," answered the squire. + +"Perhaps that was why he spoke so roughly to me," she said in a low +voice, as though speaking to herself. + +The tears came into the squire's eyes for sheer pity. Even in this utmost +extremity the unhappy woman tried to account for her husband's rude and +cruel speech. Mr. Juxon did not answer but looked away. They passed the +spot where the scuffle had occurred on the previous night, but still he +said nothing, fearing to disturb her by making his story seem too vividly +real. + +"Where is he?" she asked as they reached the Hall, looking up at the +windows. + +"On the other side." + +They went in and mounted the stairs towards the sick man's chamber. Mr. +Juxon went in, leaving Mrs. Goddard outside for a moment. She could +hear that hideous rattling monotonous moan, and she trembled from head to +foot. Presently Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose came out, looking very grave and +passed by her with a look of sympathy. + +"Will you come in?" said the squire in a low voice. + +Mrs. Goddard entered the room quickly. On seeing her husband, she uttered +a low cry and laid her hand upon Mr. Juxon's arm. For some seconds she +stood thus, quite motionless, gazing with intense and sympathetic +interest at the sick man's face. Then she went to his side and laid her +hand upon his burning forehead and looked into his eyes. + +"Walter! Walter!" she cried. "Don't you know me? Oh, why does he groan +like that? Is he suffering?" she asked turning to Mr. Juxon. + +"No--I do not think he suffers much. He is quite unconscious. He is +talking all the time but cannot pronounce the words." + +The squire stood at a distance looking on, noting the womanly +thoughtfulness Mrs. Goddard displayed as she smoothed her husband's +pillow and tried to settle his head more comfortably upon the bags of +ice; and all the while she never took her eyes from Goddard's face, as +though she were fascinated by her own sorrow and his suffering. She moved +about the bed with that instinctive understanding of sickness which +belongs to delicate women, but her glance never strayed to Mr. Juxon; she +seemed forced by a mysterious magnetism to look at Walter and only at +him. + +"Has he been long like this?" she asked. + +"Ever since last night. He called you once--he said, 'Mary Goddard, let +me in!' And then he said something else--he said--I cannot remember what +he said." Mr. Juxon checked himself, remembering the words John had +heard, and of which he only half understood the import. But Mrs. Goddard +hardly noticed his reply. + +"Will you leave me alone with him?" she said presently. "There is a bell +in the room--I could ring if anything--happened," she added with mournful +hesitation. + +"Certainly," answered the squire. "Only, I beg of you my dear friend--do +not distress yourself needlessly--" + +"Needlessly!" she repeated with a sorrowful smile. "It is all I can do +for him--to watch by his side. He will not live--he will not live, I am +sure." + +The squire inwardly prayed that she might be right, and left her alone +with the sick man. Who, he thought, was better fitted, who had a stronger +right to be at his bedside at such a time? If only he might die! For if +he lived, how much more terrible would the separation be, when Booley the +detective came to conduct him back to his prison! In truth, it would be +more terrible even than Mr. Juxon imagined. + +Meanwhile he must go and see to the rest of the household. He must speak +to John Short; he must see Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, and he must take +precautions against any of them seeing Mr. Booley. This was, he thought, +very important, and he resolved to speak with the latter first. John was +probably asleep, worn out with the watching of the night. + +Mr. Booley sat in the squire's study where he had been left almost an +hour earlier. He had installed himself in a comfortable corner by the +fire and was reading the morning paper which he had found unopened upon +the table. He seemed thoroughly at home as he sat there, a pair of +glasses upon his nose and his feet stretched out towards the flame upon +the hearth. + +"Thank you, I am doing very well, Mr. Juxon," he said as the squire +entered. + +"Oh--I am very glad," answered Mr. Juxon politely. The information was +wholly voluntary as he had not asked any question concerning the +detective's comfort. + +"And how is the patient?" inquired Mr. Booley. "Do you think there is any +chance of removing him this afternoon?" + +"This afternoon?" repeated the squire, in some astonishment. "The man is +very ill. It may be weeks before he can be removed." + +"Oh!" ejaculated the other. "I was not aware of that. I cannot possibly +stay so long. To-morrow, at the latest, he will have to go." + +"But, my dear sir," argued Mr. Juxon, "the thing is quite impossible. The +doctor can testify to that--" + +"We are apt to be our own doctors in these cases," said Mr. Booley, +calmly. "At all events he can be taken as far as the county gaol." + +"Upon my word, it would be murder to think of it--a man in a brain fever, +in a delirium, to be taken over jolting roads--dear me! It is not to be +thought of!" + +Mr. Booley smiled benignly, for the first time since the squire had made +his acquaintance. + +"You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable," he +observed. + +"Yes--no doubt--but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too." + +"Hardly, I should say," returned the detective coolly. "But since you are +so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you +whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable +experience in that line." + +"You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes," replied the squire, +shocked at the man's indifference and hardness. + +"It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or +raving," objected Mr. Booley. + +"He might have a lucid moment just when you are there--the fright would +very likely kill him." + +"That would decide the question of moving him," answered Booley, taking +his glasses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet. +"There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I +would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it +may be my duty to do so." + +The squire was beginning to be angry; even his calm temper was not proof +against the annoyance caused by Mr. Booley's appearance at the Hall, but +he wisely controlled himself and resorted to other means of persuasion. + +"There is a reason, Mr. Booley; indeed there are several very good +reasons. One of them is that it might be fatal to frighten the man; +another is that at this moment his wife is by his bedside. She has +entirely made up her mind that when he is recovered he must return to +prison, but at present it would be most unkind to let her know that you +are in the house. The shock to her nerves would be terrible." + +"Oh," said Mr. Booley, "if there is a lady in the case we must make some +allowances, I presume. Only, put yourself in my place, Mr. Juxon, put +yourself in my place." + +The squire doubted whether he would be willing to exchange his +personality for that of Mr. Booley. + +"Well--what then?" he said. "I think I would try to be merciful." + +"Yes; but suppose that in being merciful, you just allowed that lady the +time necessary to present her beloved husband with a convenient little +pill, just to shorten his sufferings? And suppose that--" + +"Really, Mr. Booley, I think you make very unwarrantable suppositions," +said Mr. Juxon severely. "I cannot suppose any such thing." + +"Many women--ladies too--have done that to save a man from hanging," +returned Mr. Booley, fixing his grey eye on the squire. + +"Hanging?" repeated the latter in surprise. "But Goddard is not to be +hanged." + +"Of course he is. What did you expect?" Mr. Booley looked surprised in +his turn. + +"But--what for?" asked the squire very anxiously. "He has not killed +anybody--" + +"Oh--then you don't know how he escaped?" + +"No--I have not the least idea--pray tell me." + +"I don't wonder you don't understand me, then," said Mr. Booley. "Well, +it is a short tale but a lively one, as they say. Of course it stands to +reason in the first place that he could not have got out of Portland. He +was taken out for a purpose. You know that after his trial was over, all +sorts of other things besides the forgery came out about him, proving +that he was altogether a very bad lot. Now about three weeks ago there +was a question of identifying a certain person--it was a very long story, +with a bad murder case and all the rest of it--commonplace, you know the +sort--never mind the story, it will all be in the papers before long when +they have got it straight, which is more than I have, seeing that these +affairs do get a little complicated occasionally, you know, as such +things will." Mr. Booley paused. It was evident that his command of the +English tongue was not equal to the strain of constructing a long +sentence. + +"This person, whom he was to identify, was the person murdered?" inquired +Mr. Juxon. + +"Exactly. It was not the person, but the person's body, so to say. +Somebody who had been connected with the Goddard case was sure that if +Goddard could be got out of prison he could do the identifying all +straight. It did not matter about his being under sentence of hard +labour--it was a private case, and the officer only wanted Goddard's +opinion for his personal satisfaction. So he goes to the governor of +Portland, and finds that Goddard had a very good character in that +institution--he was a little bit of a gay deceiver, you see, and knew how +to fetch the chaps in there and particularly the parson. So he had a good +character. Very good. The governor consents to send him to town for this +private job, under a strong force--that means three policemen--with irons +on his hands. When they reached London they put him in a fourwheeler. +Those things are done sometimes, and nobody is the wiser, because the +governor does it on his own responsibility, for the good of the law, I +suppose. I never approved of it. Do you follow me, Mr. Juxon?" + +"Perfectly," answered the squire. "He was driven from the station with +three policemen in a hackney-coach, you say." + +"Exactly so. It was a queer place where the body was--away down in the +Minories. Ever been there, Mr. Juxon? Queer place it is, and no mistake. +I would like to show you some little bits of London. Well, as I was +saying, the fourwheeler went along, with two policemen inside with +Goddard and one on the box. Safe, you would say. Not a bit of it. Just +the beggar's luck, too. It was dusk. That is always darker than when the +lamps are well going. The fourwheeler ran into a dray-cart, round a +corner where they were repairing the street. The horse went down with a +smash, shafts, lamp, everything broken to smithereens, as they say. The +policeman jumps off the box with the cabby to see what is the matter. One +of the bobbies--the policemen I would say--it's a technical term, Mr. +Juxon--gets out of the cab to see what's up, leaving Goddard in charge of +the other. Then there is a terrific row; more carts come up, more +fourwheelers--everybody swearing at once. Presently the policeman who +had got out comes back and looks in to see if everything is straight. Not +a bit of it again. Other door of the cab was open and--no Goddard. But +the policeman was lying back in the corner and when they struck a light +and looked, they found he was stone dead. Goddard had brained him with +the irons on his wrists. No one ever saw him from that day to this. He +must have known London well--they say he did, and he was a noted quick +runner. Being nightfall and rather foggy as it generally is in those +parts he got clear off. But he killed the man who had him in charge and +if he lives he will have to swing for it. May be Mrs. Goddard does not +know that---may be she does. That is the reason I don't want her to be +left alone with him. No doubt she is very good and all that, but she +might just take it into her head to save the government twenty feet of +rope." + +"I am very much surprised, and very much shocked," said the squire +gravely. "I had no idea of this. But I will answer for Mrs. Goddard. +Why was all this never In the papers--or was there an account of it, Mr. +Booley?" + +"Oh no--it was never mentioned. We felt sure that we should catch him and +until we did we--I mean the profession--thought it just as well to say +nothing. The governor remembered to have read a letter from Goddard's +wife, just telling him where she was living, about two years ago. Being +harmless, he passed it and never copied the address; then he could not +remember it. At last they found it in his cell, hidden away somehow. The +beggar had kept it." + +"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. In the silence which followed, the +sound of wheels was heard outside. Doctor Longstreet had arrived. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +While Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were together in the library downstairs, while +John Short was waking from the short sleep he had enjoyed, and while the +squire was listening in the study to Mr. Booley's graphic account of the +convict's escape, Mrs. Goddard was alone with her husband, watching every +movement and listening intently to every moaning breath he drew. + +In the desperate anxiety for his fate, she forgot herself and seemed no +longer to feel fatigue or exhaustion from all she herself had suffered. +She stood long by his bedside, hoping that he might recognise her and yet +fearing the moment when he should recover his senses. Then she noticed +that the morning sun was pouring in through the window and she drew a +curtain across, to shade his eyes from the glare. Whether the sudden +changing of the light affected Goddard, as it does sometimes affect +persons in the delirium of a brain fever, or whether it was only a +natural turn in his condition, she never knew. His expression changed and +acquired that same look of strange intelligence which John Short had +noticed in the night; the flush sank from his forehead and gave place to +a luminous, transparent colour, his eyelids once more moved naturally, +and he looked at his wife as she stood beside him, and recognised her. He +was weaker now than when he had spoken with John Short six hours earlier, +but he was more fully in possession of his faculties for a +brief moment. Mary Goddard trembled and felt her hands turn cold with +excitement. + +"Walter, do you know me now?" she asked very softly. + +"Yes," he said faintly, and closed his eyes. She laid her hand upon his +forehead; the coldness of it seemed pleasant to him, for a slight smile +flickered over his face. + +"You are better, I think," she said again, gazing intently at him. + +"Mary--it is Mary?" he murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking up +to her. "Yes--I know you--I have been dreaming a long time. I'm so +tired--" + +"You must not talk," said she. "It will tire you more." Then she gave him +some drink. "Try and sleep," she said in a soothing tone. + +"I cannot--oh, Mary, I am very ill." + +"But you will get well again--" + +Goddard started suddenly, and laid his hand upon her arm with more force +than she suspected he possessed. + +"Where am I?" he asked, staring about the room. "Is this your house, +Mary? What became of Juxon?" + +"He is not hurt. He brought you home in his arms, Walter, to his own +house, and is taking care of you." + +"Good heavens! He will give me up. No, no, don't hold me--I must be +off" + +He made a sudden effort to rise, but he was very weak. He fell back +exhausted upon his pillow; his fingers gripped the sheet convulsively, +and his face grew paler. + +"Caught--like a rat!" he muttered. Mary Goddard sighed. + +Was she to give him hope of escape? Or should she try to calm him now, +and when he was better, break the truth to him? Was she to make him +believe that he was safe for the present, and hold out a prospect of +escape when he should be better, or should she tell him now, once for +all, while he was in his senses, that he was lost? It was a terrible +position. Love she had none left for him, but there was infinite pity +still in her heart and there would be while he breathed. She hesitated +one moment only, and it may be that she decided for the wrong; but it was +her pity that moved her, and not any remnant of love. + +"Hush, Walter," she said. "You may yet escape, when you are strong +enough. You are quite safe here, for the present. Mr. Juxon would not +think of giving you up now. By and by--the window is not high, Walter, +and I shall often be alone with you. I will manage it." + +"Is that true? Are you cheating me?" cried the wretched man in broken +tones. "No--you are speaking the truth--I know it--God bless you, Mary!" +Again he closed his eyes and drew one or two long deep breaths. + +Strange to say, the blessing the miserable convict called down upon her +was sweet to Mary Goddard, sweeter than anything she remembered for a +long time. She had perhaps done wrong in giving him hopes of escaping, +but at least he was grateful to her. It was more than she expected, for +she remembered her last meeting with him, and the horrible ingratitude +he had then shown her. It seemed to her that his heart had been softened +a little; anything was better than that rough indifference he had +affected before. Presently he spoke again. + +"Not that it makes much difference now, Mary," he said. "I don't think +there is much left of me." + +"Do not say that, Walter," she answered gently. "Rest now. The more you +rest the sooner you will be well again. Try and sleep." + +"Sleep--no--I cannot sleep. I have murdered sleep--like Macbeth, Mary, +like Macbeth--Do you remember Macbeth?" + +"Hush," said Mary Goddard, endeavouring to calm him, though she turned +pale at his strange quotation. "Hush--" + +"That is to say," said the sick man, heedless of her exhortation and +soothing touch, "that is to say, I did not. He was very wide awake, and +if I had not been quick, I should never have got off. Ugh! How damp that +cellar was, that first night. That is where I got my fever. It is fever, +I suppose?" he asked, unable to keep his mind for long in one groove. +"What does the doctor say? Has he been here?" + +"Yes. He said you would soon be well; but he said you must be kept very +quiet. So you must not talk, or I will go away." + +"Oh Mary, don't go--don't go! It's like--ha! ha! it's quite like old +times, Mary!" He laughed harshly, a hideous, half-delirious laugh. + +Mary Goddard shuddered but made a great effort to control herself. + +"Yes," she said gently, "it is like old times. Try and think that it is +the old house at Putney, Walter. Do you hear the sparrows chirping, just +as they used to do? The curtains are the same colour, too. You used to +sleep so quietly at the old house. Try and sleep now. Then you will +soon get well. Now, I will sit beside you, but I will not talk any +more--there--are you quite comfortable? A little higher? Yes--so. Go to +sleep." + +Her quiet voice soothed him, and her gentle hands made his rest more +easy. She sat down beside him, thinking from his silence that he would +really go to sleep; hoping and yet not hoping, revolving in her mind the +chances of his escape, so soon as he should be strong enough to attempt +it, shuddering at the thought of what his fate must be if he again fell +into the hands of the police. She did not know that a detective was at +that moment in the house, determined to carry her husband away so soon as +the doctor pronounced it possible. Nothing indeed, not even that +knowledge could have added much to the burden of her sorrows as she sat +there, a small and graceful figure with a sad pathetic face, leaning +forward as she sat and gazing drearily at the carpet, where the sunlight +crept in beneath the curtains from the bright world without. It seemed to +her that the turning point in her existence had come, and that this day +must decide all; yet she could not see how it was to be decided, think of +it as she might. One thing stood prominent in her thoughts, and she +delighted to think of it--the generosity of Charles Juxon. From first to +last, from the day when she had frankly told him her story and he had +accepted it and refused to let it bring any difference to his friendship +for her, down to this present time, when after being basely attacked by +her own husband, he had nobly brought the wretch home and was caring +for him as for one of his own blood--through all and in spite of all, the +squire had shown the same unassuming but unfailing generosity. She asked +herself, as she sat beside the sick man, whether there were many like +Charles Juxon in the world. There was the vicar, but the case was very +different. He too had been kind and generous from the first; but he had +not asked her to marry him--she blushed at the thought--he had not loved +her. If Charles Juxon loved her, his generosity to Goddard was all the +greater. + +She could not tell whether she loved him, because her ideas were what the +world calls simple, and what, in heaven, would be called good. Her +husband was alive; none the less so because he had been taken away and +separated from her by the law--he was alive, and now was brought face to +face with her again. While he was living, she did not suppose it possible +to love another, for she was very simple. She said to herself truly that +she had a very high esteem for the squire and that he was the best friend +she had in the world; that to lose him would be the most terrible of +imaginable losses; that she was deeply indebted to him, and she even half +unconsciously allowed that if she were free she might marry him. There +was no harm in that, she knew very well. She owed her own husband no +longer either respect or affection, even while she still felt pity for +him. Her esteem at least, she might give to another; nay, she owed it, +and if she had refused Charles Juxon her friendship, she would have +called herself the most ungrateful of women. If ever man deserved +respect, esteem and friendship, it was the squire. + +Even in the present anxiety she thought of him, for his conduct seemed +the only bright spot in the gloom of her thoughts; and she sincerely +rejoiced that he had escaped unhurt. Had any harm come to him, she would +have been, if it were possible, more miserable than she now was. But he +was safe and sound, and doing his best to help her--doing more than she +knew, in fact, at that very moment. There was at least something to be +thankful for. + +Goddard stirred again, and opened his eyes. + +"Mary," he said faintly, "they won't catch me after all." + +"No, Walter," said she, humouring him. "Sleep quietly, for no one will +disturb you." + +"I am going where nobody can catch me. I am dying--" + +"Oh, Walter!" cried Mary Goddard, "you must not speak like that. You will +be better soon. The doctor is expected every moment." + +"He had better make haste," said the sick man with something of the +roughness he had shown at their first meetings. "It is no use, Mary. I +have been thinking about it. I have been mad for--for very long, I am +sure. I want to die, Mary. Nobody can catch me if I die--I shall be safe +then. You will be safe too--that is a great thing." + +His voice had a strange and meditative tone in it, which frightened his +wife, as she stood close beside him. She could not speak, for her +excitement and fear had the mastery of her tongue. + +"I have been thinking about it--I am not good for much, now--Mary--I +never was. It will do some good if I die--just because I shall be out of +the way. It will be the only good thing I ever did for you." + +"Oh Walter," cried his wife in genuine distress, "don't--don't! +Think--you must not die so--think of--of the other world, Walter--you +must not die so!" + +Goddard smiled faintly--scornfully, his wife thought. + +"I daresay I shall not die till to-morrow, or next day--but I will not +live," he said with sudden energy. "Do you understand me, I will not +live! Bah!" he cried, falling back upon his pillow, "the grapes are +sour--I can't live if I would. Oh yes, I know all about that--my sins. +Well, I am sorry for them. I am sorry, Mary. But it is very little +good--people always laugh at--deathbed repentance--" + +He stopped and his thoughts seemed wandering. Mary Goddard gave him +something to drink and tried to calm him. But he moved restlessly, though +feebly. + +"Softly, softly," he murmured again. "He is coming--close to me. Get +ready--now--no not yet, yes--now. Ugh!" yelled Goddard, suddenly +springing up, his eyes starting from his head. "Ugh! the dog--oh!" + +"Hush, Walter," cried his wife, pushing him back. "Hush--no one will hurt +you." + +"What--is that you, Mary?" asked the sick man, trembling violently. Then +he laughed harshly. "I was off again. Pshaw! I did not really mean to +hurt him--he need not have set that beast at me. He did not catch me +though--Mary, I am going to die--will you pray for me? You are a good +woman--somebody will hear your prayers, I daresay. Do, Mary--I shall feel +better somehow, though I daresay it is very foolish of me." + +"No, Walter--not foolish, not foolish. Would you like me to call Mr. +Ambrose? he is a clergyman--he is in the house." + +"No, no. You Mary, you--nobody will hear anybody else's prayers--for +me--for poor me--" + +"Try and pray with me, Walter," said Mary Goddard, very quietly. She +seemed to have an unnatural strength given to her in that hour of +distress and horror. She knelt down by the bedside and took his wounded +hand in hers, tenderly, and she prayed aloud in such words as she could +find. + +Below, in the study, the detective had just finished telling his tale to +the squire, and the wheels of Doctor Longstreet's dog-cart ground upon +the gravel outside. The two men looked at each other for a moment, and +Mr. Juxon spoke first. + +"That is the doctor," said he. "I will ask you to have patience for five +minutes, Mr. Booley. He will give you his opinion. I am still very much +shocked at what you have told me--I had no idea what had happened." + +"No--I suppose not," answered Mr. Booley calmly. "If you will ask the +medical man to step in here for one moment, I will explain matters to +him. I don't think he will differ much from me." + +"Very well," returned the squire, leaving the room. He went to meet +Doctor Longstreet, intending to warn him of the presence of Mr. Booley, +and meaning to entreat his support for the purpose of keeping Goddard in +the house until he should be recovered. He passed through the library and +exchanged a few words with Mr. Ambrose, explaining that the doctor had +come. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were sitting on opposite sides of the +fireplace in huge chairs, with a mournful air of resigned expectation +upon their worthy faces. The detective remained alone in the study. + +Meanwhile John Short had refreshed himself from his fatigues, and came +down stairs in search of some breakfast. He had recovered from his +excitement and was probably the only one who thought of eating, as he was +also the one least closely concerned in what was occurring. Instead of +going to the library he went to the dining-room, and, seeing no one +about, entered the study from the door which on that side connected the +two rooms. To his surprise he saw Mr. Booley standing before the +fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his feet wide apart. He had not +the least idea who he was. + +"Oh!" he exclaimed, staring hard at him. + +"Yes," said Mr. Booley, who took him for the physician whom he expected. +"I am George Booley of the detective service. I was expecting you, sir. +There is very little to be said. My time, as I told Mr. Juxon, is very +valuable. I must have Goddard out of the house by to-morrow afternoon at +the latest. Now, doctor, it is of no use your talking to me about fever +and all that--" + +John had stood with his mouth open, staring in blank astonishment at the +detective, unable to find words in which to question the man. At last he +got his breath. + +"What in the world are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "Are you a +raving lunatic--or what are you?" + +"Come, come, doctor," said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, "none of +that with me, you know. If the man must be moved--why he must, that is +all, and you must make it possible, somehow." + +"You are crazy!" exclaimed John. "I am not the doctor, to begin with--" + +"Not the doctor!" cried Mr. Booley. "Then who are you? I beg your pardon, +I am sure--" + +"I am John Short," said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name +conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective. He cared little, +for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into +the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real +physician. But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he +found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each +other. He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was +relieved to see them--anything was a relief at that moment. + +"Mr. Ambrose," he said hurriedly, "there is a detective in the next room +who means to carry off that poor man at once--as he is--sick--dying +perhaps--it must be prevented!" + +"A detective!" cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath. + +"My dear John," said the vicar immediately afterwards, "where is he? I +will reason with him." + +"Augustin," said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, "it is barbarous. I +will go upstairs. If he enters the room it shall be across my body." + +"Do, my dear," replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely +appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent. + +"Of course I will," said his wife, who had already reached the door. From +which it appears that Mrs. Ambrose was a brave woman. She passed rapidly +up the staircase to Goddard's room, but she paused as she laid her hand +upon the latch. From within she could hear Mary Goddard's voice, praying +aloud, as she had never heard any one pray before. She paused and +listened, hesitating to interrupt the unhappy lady in such a moment. +Moreover, though her goodwill was boundless, she had not any precise +idea how to manage the defence. But as she stood there, the thought that +the detective might at any moment follow her was predominant. The voice +within the room paused for an instant and Mrs. Ambrose entered, raising +one finger to her lips as though expecting that Mary Goddard would speak +to her. But Mary was not looking, and at first did not notice the +intrusion. She knelt by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, her +hands clasped and clasping the sick man's wounded hand. + +Goddard's face was pale but not deathlike, and his breathing seemed +regular and gentle; but his eyes were almost closed and he seemed not +aware that any one had entered. Mrs. Ambrose was struck by his appearance +which was greatly changed since she had left him half an hour earlier, +his face purple and his harsh moaning continuing unceasingly. She said +to herself that he was probably better. There was all the more reason for +warning Mary Goddard of the new danger that awaited him. She shut the +door and locked it and withdrew the key. At the sound Mary looked +up--then rose to her feet with a sad look of reproach, as though not +wishing to be disturbed. But Mrs. Ambrose came quickly to her side, and +glancing once at Goddard, to see whether he was unconscious, she led her +away from the bed. + +"My dear," she said very kindly, but in a voice trembling with +excitement, "I had to come. There are detectives in the house, clamouring +to take him away--but I will protect you--they shall not do it." + +Mary Goddard started and her eyes stared wildly at her friend. But +presently the look of resigned sadness returned, and a faint and mournful +smile flickered on her lips. + +"I think it is all over," she said. "He is still alive--but he will not +live till they come." + +Then she bit her lip tightly, and all the features of her face trembled a +little. The tears would rise spasmodically, though they were only tears +of pity, not of love. Mrs. Ambrose, the severe, the stern, the eternally +vigilant Mrs. Ambrose, sat down by the window; she put her arm about Mary +Goddard's waist and took her upon her knee as though she had been a +little child and laid her head upon her breast, comforting her as best +she could. And their tears flowed down and mingled together, for many +minutes. + +But once more the sick man's voice was heard; both women started to their +feet and went to his side. + +"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" he moaned faintly. + +"It is I--here I am, Walter, dear Walter--I am with you," answered Mary, +raising him and putting her arm about his neck, while Mrs. Ambrose +arranged the pillows behind him. He opened his eyes as though with a +great effort. + +Some one knocked softly at the door. Mrs. Ambrose left the bedside +quickly and put the key in the lock. + +"Who is there?" she asked, before she opened. + +"I--John. Please let me in." + +Mrs. Ambrose opened and John entered, very pale; she locked the door +again after him. He stood still looking with astonishment at Mrs. Goddard +who still propped the sick man in her arms and hardly noticed him. + +"Why--?" he ejaculated and then checked himself, or rather was checked by +Mrs. Ambrose's look. Then he spoke to her in a whisper. + +"There is an awful row going on between the doctor and the detective," he +said hurriedly under his breath. "They are coming upstairs and the vicar +and Mr. Juxon are trying to part them--I don't know what they are not +saying to each other--" + +"Hush," replied Mrs. Ambrose, "do not disturb him--he was conscious again +just now. This may be the crisis--he may recover. The door is locked--try +and prevent anybody--that is, the detective, from coming in. They will +not dare to break open the door in Mr. Juxon's house." + +"But why is Mrs. Goddard here?" asked John unable to control his +curiosity any longer. He did not mean that she should hear, but as she +laid Goddard's head gently upon the pillows, trying to soothe him to rest +again, if rest it were, she looked up and met John's eyes. + +"Because he is my husband," said she very quietly. + +John laid his hand on Mrs. Ambrose's arm in utmost bewilderment and +looked at her as though to ask if it were true. She nodded gravely. +Before John had time to recover himself from the shock of the news, +footsteps were heard outside, and the loud altercation of angry voices. +John Short leaned his shoulder against the door and put his foot against +it below, expecting an attack. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +When Mr. Ambrose undertook to reason with the detective he went directly +towards the study where John said the man was waiting. But Mr. Booley was +beginning to suspect that the doctor was not coming to speak with him as +the squire had promised, and after hesitating for a few moments followed +John into the library, determining to manage matters himself. As he +opened the door he met Mr. Ambrose coming towards him, and at the same +moment Mr. Juxon and Doctor Longstreet entered from the opposite end of +the long room. The cheerful and active physician was talking in a rather +excited tone. + +"My dear sir," said he, "I cannot pretend to say that the man will or +will not recover. I must see him again. Things look quite differently by +daylight, and six or seven hours may make all the change in the world. To +say that he can be moved to-day or even to-morrow, is absurd. I will +stake my reputation as a practitioner--Hulloa!" + +The exclamation was elicited by Mr. Booley, who had pushed past Mr. +Ambrose and stood confronting the doctor with a look which was intended +to express a combination of sarcasm, superior cunning and authority. + +"This is Mr. Booley," explained the squire. "Doctor Longstreet will tell +you what he has been telling me," he added turning to the detective. + +"I must see this man instantly," said the latter somewhat roughly. "I +believe I am being trifled with, and I will not submit to it. No, sir, I +will not be trifled with, I assure you! I must see this man at once. It +is absolutely necessary to identify him." + +"And I say," said Doctor Longstreet with equal firmness, "that I must see +him first, in order to judge whether you can see him or not--" + +"It is for me to judge of that," returned Mr. Booley, with more haste +than logic. + +"After you have seen him, you cannot judge whether you ought to see him +or not," retorted Doctor Longstreet growing red in the face. The +detective attempted to push past him. At this moment John Short hastily +left the room and fled upstairs to warn Mrs. Ambrose of what was +happening. + +"Really," said Mr. Ambrose, making a vain attempt to stop the course of +events, "this is very unwarrantable." + +"Unwarrantable!" cried Mr. Booley. "Unwarrantable, indeed! I have the +warrant in my pocket. Mr. Juxon, sir, I fear I must insist." + +"Permit me," said Mr. Juxon, planting his square and sturdy form between +the door and the detective. "You may certainly insist, but you must begin +by listening to reason." + +Charles Juxon had been accustomed to command others for the greater part +of his life, and though he was generally the most unobtrusive and gentle +of men, when he raised his voice in a tone of authority his words carried +weight. His blue eyes stared hard at Mr. Booley, and there was something +imposing in his square head--even in the unruffled smoothness of his +brown hair. Mr. Booley paused and discontentedly thrust his hands into +his pockets. + +"Well?" he said. + +"Simply this," answered the squire. "You may accompany us to the door of +the room; you may wait with me, while Doctor Longstreet goes in to look +at the patient. If the man is unconscious you may go in and see him. If +he chances to be in a lucid interval, you must wait until he is +unconscious again. It will not be long. That is perfectly reasonable." + +"Perfectly," echoed Mr. Ambrose, biting his long upper lip and glaring as +fiercely at Mr. Booley as though he had said it all himself. + +"Absolutely reasonable," added Doctor Longstreet. + +"Well, we will try it," said the detective moodily. "But I warn you I +will not be trifled with." + +"Nobody is trifling with you," answered the squire coldly. "This way if +you please." And he forthwith led the way upstairs, followed by Mr. +Booley, the physician and the vicar. + +Before they reached the door, however, the discussion broke out again. +Mr. Booley had been held in check for a few moments by Mr. Juxon's +determined manner, but as he followed the squire he began to regret that +he had yielded so far and he made a fresh assertion of his rights. + +"I cannot see why you want to keep me outside," he said. "What difference +can it make, I should like to know?" + +"You will have to take my word for it that it does make a difference," +said the doctor, testily. "If you frighten the man, he will die. Now +then, here we are." + +"I don't like your tone, sir," said Booley angrily, again trying to push +past the physician. "I think I must insist, after all. I will go in with +you--I tell you I will, sir--don't stop me." + +Doctor Longstreet, who was fifteen or twenty years older than the +detective but still strong and active, gripped his arm quickly, and held +him back. + +"If you go into that room without my permission, and if the man dies of +fright, I will have an action brought against you for manslaughter," he +said in a loud voice. + +"And I will support it," said the squire. "I am justice of the peace +here, and what is more, I am in my own house. Do not think your position +will protect you." + +Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew +back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the +door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word +of the altercation had been heard within. + +"Who is there?" asked John, who though he had heard all that had been +said was uncertain of the issue. + +"Let in Doctor Longstreet," said the squire's voice. + +But meanwhile Mrs. Ambrose and Mary Goddard were standing on each side of +the sick man. He must have heard the noises outside, and they conveyed +some impression to his brain. + +"Mary, Mary!" he groaned indistinctly. "Save me--they are coming--I +cannot get away--softly, he is coming--now--I shall just catch him as he +goes by--Ugh! that dog--oh! oh!--" + +With a wild shriek, the wretched man sprang up, upon his knees, his eyes +starting out, his face transfigured with horror. For one instant he +remained thus, half-supported by the two terror-struck women; then with a +groan his head drooped forward upon his breast and he fell back heavily +upon the pillows, breathing still but quite unconscious. + +Doctor Longstreet entered at that moment and ran to his side. But when he +saw him he paused. Even Mrs. Ambrose was white with horror, and Mary +Goddard stood motionless, staring down at her husband, her hands gripping +the disordered coverlet convulsively. + +Mr. Juxon had entered, too, while Mr. Ambrose remained outside with the +detective, who had been frightened into submission by the physician's +last threat. The squire saw what was happening and paced the room in the +greatest agitation, wringing his hands together and biting his lips. John +had closed the door and came to the foot of the bed and looked at +Goddard's face. After a pause, Doctor Longstreet spoke. + +"We might possibly restore him to consciousness for a moment--" + +"Don't!" cried Mary Goddard, starting as though some one had struck her. +"That is--" she added quickly, in broken tones, "unless he can live!" + +"No," answered the physician, gravely, but looking hard at the unhappy +woman. "He is dying." + +Goddard's staring eyes were glazed and white. Twice and three times he +gasped for breath, and then lay quite still. It was all over. Mary gazed +at his dead face for one instant, then a faint smile parted her lips: she +raised one hand to her forehead as though dazed. + +"He is safe now," she murmured very faintly. Her limbs relaxed suddenly, +and she fell straight backwards. Charles Juxon, who was watching her, +sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Then he bore her from the +room, swiftly, while John Short who was as white and speechless as the +rest opened the door. + +"You may go in now," said Juxon as he passed Booley and Mr. Ambrose in +the passage, with his burden in his arms. A few steps farther on he met +Holmes the butler, who carried a telegram on a salver. + +"For Mr. Short, sir," said the impassive servant, not appearing to notice +anything strange in the fact that his master was carrying the inanimate +body of Mary Goddard. + +"He is in there--go in," said Juxon hurriedly as he went on his way. + +The detective and the vicar had already entered the room where the dead +convict was lying. All stood around the bed, gazing at his pale face as +he lay. + +"A telegram for Mr. Short," said Holmes from the door. John started and +took the despatch from the butler's hands. He hastily tore it open, +glanced at the contents and thrust it into his pocket. Every one looked +round. + +"What is it, John?" whispered the vicar, who was nearest to him. + +"Oh--nothing. I am first in the Tripos, that is all," answered John very +simply, as though it were not a matter of the least consequence. + +Through all those months of untiring labour, through privation and +anxiety, through days of weariness and nights of study, he had looked +forward to the triumph, often doubting but never despairing. But he had +little guessed that the news of victory would reach him at such a moment. +It was nothing, he said; and indeed as he stood with the group of pale +and awe-struck spectators by the dead man's bed, he felt that the +greatest thing which had ever happened to him was as nothing compared +with the tragedy of which he had witnessed the last act. + +It was all over. There was nothing more to be said; the convict had +escaped the law in the end, at the very moment when the hand of the law +was upon him. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, buried him "four by +six by two," grumbling at the parish depth as of yore, and a simple stone +cross marked his nameless grave. There it stands to this day in the +churchyard of Billingsfield, Essex, in the shadow of the ancient abbey. + +All these things happened a long time ago, according to Billingsfield +reckoning, but the story of the tramp who attacked Squire Juxon and was +pulled down by the bloodhound is still told by the villagers, and Mr. +Gall, being once in good cheer, vaguely hinted that he knew who the tramp +was; but from the singular reticence he has always shown in the matter, +and from the prosperity which has attended his constabulary career, it +may well be believed that he has a life interest in keeping his counsel. +Indeed as it is nearly ten years since Mr. Reid buried the poor tramp, it +is possible that Mr. Gall's memory may be already failing in regard to +events which occurred at so remote a date. + +It was but an incident, though it was perhaps the only incident of any +interest which ever occurred in Billingsfield; but until it reached its +termination it agitated the lives of the quiet people at the vicarage, +at the cottage and at the Hall as violently as human nature can be moved. +It was long, too, before those who had witnessed the scene of Goddard's +death could shake off the impression of those awful last moments. Yet +time does all things wonderful and in the course of not many months there +remained of Goddard's memory only a great sense of relief that he was no +longer alive. Mary Goddard, indeed, was very ill for a long time; and but +for Mrs. Ambrose's tender care of her, might have followed her husband +within a few weeks of his death. But the good lady never left her, until +she was herself again--absolutely herself, saving that as time passed and +her deep wounds healed her sorrows were forgotten, and she seemed to +bloom out into a second youth. + +So it came to pass that within two years Charles Juxon once more asked +her to be his wife. She hesitated long--fully half an hour, the squire +thought; but in the end she put out her small hand and laid it in his, +and thanked God that a man so generous and true, and whom she so honestly +loved, was to be her husband as well as her friend and protector. Charles +James Juxon smoothed his hair with his other hand, and his blue eyes were +a little moistened. + +"God bless you, Mary," he said; and that was all. + +Then the Reverend Augustin Ambrose married them in the church of Saint +Mary's, between Christmas and New Year's Day; and the wedding-party +consisted of Mrs. Ambrose and Eleanor Goddard and John Short, Fellow of +Trinity College, Cambridge. And again years passed by, and Nellie grew in +beauty as John grew in reputation; and Nellie had both brothers and +sisters, as she had longed to have, and to her, their father was as her +own; so that there was much harmony and peace and goodwill towards men +in Billingsfield Hall. John came often and stayed long, and was ever +welcome; for though Mary Goddard's youth returned with the daffodils and +the roses of the first spring after Walter's death, John's fleeting +passion returned not, and perhaps its place was better taken. Year by +year, as he came to refresh himself from hard work with a breath of the +country air, he saw the little girl grow to the young maiden of sixteen, +and he saw her beauty ripen again to the fulness of womanhood; and at +last, when she was one and twenty years of age he in his turn put out his +hand and asked her to take him--which she did, for better or worse, but +to all appearances for better. For John Short had prospered mightily in +the world, and had come to think his first great success as very small +and insignificant as compared with what he had done since. But his old +simplicity was in him yet, and was the cause of much of his prosperity, +as it generally is when it is found together with plenty of brains. It +was doubtless because he was so very simple that when he found that he +loved Eleanor Goddard he did not hesitate to ask the convict's daughter +to be his wife. His interview with Mr. Juxon was characteristic. + +"You know what you are doing, John?" asked the squire. He always called +him John, now. + +"Perfectly," replied the scholar, "I am doing precisely what my betters +have done before me with such admirable result." + +"Betters?" + +"You. You knew about it all and you married her mother. I know all about +it, and I wish to marry herself." + +"You know that she never heard the story?" + +"Yes. She never shall." + +"No, John--she never must. Well, all good go with you." + +So Charles Juxon gave his consent. And Mary Juxon consented too; but for +the first time in many years the tears rose again to her eyes, and she +laid her hand on John's arm, as they walked together in the park. + +"Oh, John," she said, "do you think it is right--for you yourself?" + +"Of course I think so," quoth John stoutly. + +"You John--with your reputation, your success, with the whole world at +your feet--you ought not to marry the daughter of--of such a man." + +"My dear Mrs. Juxon," said John Short, "is she not your daughter as well +as his? Pray, pray do not mention that objection. I assure you I have +thought it all over. There is really nothing more to be said, which I +have not said to myself. Dear Mrs. Juxon--do say Yes!" + +"You are very generous, John, as well as great," she answered looking up +to his face. "Well--I have nothing to say. You must do as you think best. +I am sure you will be kind to Nellie, for I have known you for ten +years--you may tell her I am very glad--" she stopped, her eyes brimming +over with tears. + +"Do you remember how angry I was once, when you told me to go and talk to +Nellie?" said John. "It was just here, too--" + +Mary Juxon laughed happily and brushed the tears from her eyes. So it was +all settled. + +Once more the Reverend Augustin Ambrose united two loving hearts before +the altar of Saint Mary's. He was well stricken in years, and his hair +and beard were very white. Mrs. Ambrose also grew more imposing with each +succeeding season, but her face was softer than of old, and her voice +more gentle. For the sorrow and suffering of a few days had drawn +together the hearts of all those good people with strong bands, and a +deep affection had sprung up between them all. The good old lady felt as +though Mary Juxon were her daughter--Mary Juxon, by whom she had stood in +the moment of direst trial and terror, whom she had tended in illness and +cheered in recovery. And the younger woman's heart had gone out towards +her, feeling how good a thing it is to find a friend in need, and +learning to value in her happiness the wealth of human kindness she had +found in her adversity. + +They are like one family, now, having a common past, a common present, +and a common future, and there is no dissension among them. Honest and +loyal men and women may meet day after day, and join hands and exchange +greetings, without becoming firm friends, for the very reason that they +have no need of each other. But if the storm of a great sorrow breaks +among them and they call out to each other for help, and bear the brunt +of the weather hand in hand, the seed of a deeper affection is brought +into their midst; and when the tempest is past the sweet flower of +friendship springs up in the moistened furrows of their lives. + +So those good people in the lonely parish of Billingsfield gathered round +Mary Goddard, as they called her then, and round poor little Nellie, and +did their best to protect the mother and the child from harm and +undeserved suffering; and afterwards, when it was all over, and there was +nothing more to be feared in the future, they looked into each other's +faces and felt that they were become as brothers and sisters, and that so +long as they should live--may it be long indeed!--there was a bond +between them which could never be broken. So it was that Mrs. Ambrose's +face softened and her voice was less severe than it had been. + +Mary Juxon is the happiest of women; happy in her husband, in her +eldest daughter, in John Short and in the little children with bright +faces and ringing voices who nestle at her knee or climb over the sturdy +sailor-squire, and pull his great beard and make him laugh. They will +never know, any more than Nellie knew, all that their mother suffered; +and as she looks upon them and strokes their long fair hair and listens +to their laughter, she says to herself that it was perhaps almost worth +while to have been dragged down towards the depths of shame for the sake +of at last enjoying such pride and glory of happy motherhood. + + +THE END. + + + + +THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. MARION CRAWFORD + + I. Mr. Isaacs + II. Doctor Claudius + III. To Leeward + IV. A Roman Singer + V. An American Politician + VI. Marzio's Crucifix Zoroaster + VII. A Tale of a Lonely Parish + VIII. Paul Patoff + IX. Love in Idleness: A Tale of Bar Harbor Marion Darche + X. Saracinesca + XI. Sant' Ilario + XII. Don Orsino + XIII. Corleone: A Sicilian Story + XIV. With the Immortals + XV. Greifenstein + XVI. A Cigarette-Maker's Romance Khaled + XVII. The Witch of Prague + XVIII. The Three Fates + XIX. Taquisara + XX. The Children of the King + XXI. Pietro Ghisleri + XXII. Katharine Lauderdale + XXIII. The Ralstons + XXIV. Casa Braccio (Part I) + XXV. Casa Braccio (Part II) + XXVI. Adam Johnstone's Son A Rose of Yesterday + XXVII. Via Crucia + XXVIII. In the Palace of the King + XXIX. Marietta: A Maid of Venice + XXX. Cecilia: A Story of Modern Rome + XXXI. The Heart of Rome + XXXII. Whosoever Shall Offend + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH*** + + +******* This file should be named 13597.txt or 13597.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/3/5/9/13597 + + + +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.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +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 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://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +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://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/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 including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/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/13597.zip b/old/13597.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d66285c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13597.zip |