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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15416.txt b/15416.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..17fba80 --- /dev/null +++ b/15416.txt @@ -0,0 +1,17410 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spinners, by Eden Phillpotts + +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: The Spinners + +Author: Eden Phillpotts + +Release Date: March 20, 2005 [EBook #15416] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPINNERS *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + THE SPINNERS + + BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + Author of "Old Delabole," "Brunel's Tower," etc. + + 1918 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I + +I THE FUNERAL +II AT 'THE TIGER' +III THE HACKLER +IV CHAINS FOR RAYMOND +V IN THE MILL +VI 'THE SEVEN STARS' +VII A WALK +VIII THE LECTURE +IX THE PARTY +X WORK +XI THE OLD STORE-HOUSE +XII CREDIT +XIII IN THE FOREMAN'S GARDEN +XIV THE CONCERT +XV A VISIT TO MISS IRONSYDE +XVI AT CHILCOMBE +XVII CONFUSION +XVIII THE LOVERS' GROVE +XIX JOB LEGG'S AMBITION +XX A CONFERENCE +XXI THE WARPING MILL +XXII THE TELEGRAM +XXIII A LETTER FOR SABINA +XXIV MRS. NORTHOVER DECIDES +XXV THE WOMAN'S DARKNESS +XXVI OF HUMAN NATURE +XXVII THE MASTER OF THE MILL +XXVIII CLASH OF OPINIONS +XXIX THE BUNCH OF GRAPES +XXX A TRIUMPH OF REASON +XXXI THE OFFER DECLINED + + +BOOK II + +I THE FLYING YEARS +II THE SEA GARDEN +III A TWIST FRAME +IV THE RED HAND +V AN ACCIDENT +VI THE GATHERING PROBLEM +VII THE WALK HOME +VIII EPITAPH +IX THE FUTURE OF ABEL +X THE ADVERTISEMENT +XI THE HEMP BREAKER +XII THE PICNIC +XIII THE RUNAWAY +XIV THE MOTOR CAR +XV CRITICISM +XVI THE OFFER OF MARRIAGE +XVII SABINA AND ABEL +XVIII SWAN SONG +XIX NEW WORK FOR ABEL +XX IDEALS +XXI ATROPOS +XXII THE HIDING-PLACE + + + + +BOOK I + +SABINA + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FUNERAL + + +The people were coming to church and one had thought it Sunday, but for +two circumstances. The ring of bells at St. Mary's did not peal, and the +women were dressed in black as the men. + +Through the winding lanes of Bridetown a throng converged, drawn to the +grey tower by a tolling bell; and while the sun shone and a riot of many +flowers made hedgerows and cottage gardens gay; while the spirit of the +hour was inspired by June and a sun at the zenith unclouded, the folk of +the hamlet drew their faces to sadness and mothers chid the children, +who could not pretend, but echoed the noontide hour in their hearts. + +All were not attired for a funeral. A small crowd of women, with one or +two men among them, stood together where a sycamore threw a patch of +shade on a triangular space of grass near the church. There were fifty +of these people--ancient women, others in their prime, and many young +maidens. Some communion linked them and the few men who stood with them. +All wore a black band upon their left arms. Drab or grey was their +attire, but sun-bonnets nodded bright as butterflies among them, and even +their dull raiment was more cheerful than the gathering company in black +who now began to mass their numbers and crane their heads along the +highway. + +Bridetown lies near the sea in a valley under a range of grassy downs. +It is the centre of a network of little lanes with cottages dotted upon +them, or set back behind small gardens. The dwellings stood under +thatch, or weathered tile, and their faces at this season were radiant +with roses and honeysuckles, jasmine and clematis. Pinks, lilies, +columbines made the garden patches gay, and, as though so many flowers +were not enough, the windows, too, shone with geraniums and the scarlet +tassels of great cactus, that lifted their exotic, thorny bodies behind +the window panes. Not a wall but flaunted red valerian and snapdragon. +Indeed Bridetown was decked with blooms. + +Here and there in the midst stood better houses, with some expanse of +lawn before them and flat shrubs that throve in that snug vale. Good +walnut trees and mulberries threw their shadows on grass plat and house +front, while the murmur of bees came from many bright borders. + +South the land rose again to the sea cliffs, for the spirits of ocean +and the west wind have left their mark upon Bride Vale. The white gulls +float aloft; the village elms are moulded by Zephyr with sure and steady +breath. Of forestal size and unstunted, yet they turn their backs, as it +were, upon the west and, yielding to that unsleeping pressure, incline +landward. The trees stray not far. They congregate in an oasis about +Bridetown, then wend away through valley meadows, but leave the green +hills bare. The high ground rolls upward to a gentle skyline and the +hillsides, denuded by water springs, or scratched by man, reveal the +silver whiteness of the chalk where they are wounded. + +Bride river winds in the midst, and her bright waters throw a loop round +the eastern frontier of the hamlet, pass under the highway, bring life +to the cottage gardens and turn more wheels than one. Bloom of apple +and pear are mirrored on her face and fruit falls into her lap at autumn +time. Then westward she flows through the water meadows, and so slips +uneventfully away to sea, where the cliffs break and there stretches a +little strand. To the last she is crowned with flowers, and the +meadowsweets and violets that decked her cradle give place to sea +poppies, sea hollies, and stones encrusted with lichens of red gold, +where Bride flows to one great pool, sinks into the sand and glides +unseen to her lover. + +"They're coming!" said one of the crowd; but it was a false alarm. A +flock of breeding lambs of the Dorset horned sheep pattered through the +village on their way to pasture. The young, healthy creatures, with +amber-coloured horns and yellow eyes, trotted contentedly along together +and left an ovine reek in the air. Behind them came the shepherd--a +high-coloured, middle-aged man with a sharp nose and mild, grey eyes. He +could give news of the funeral, which was on the way behind him. + +An iron seat stood under the sycamore on the triangular patch of grass, +and a big woman sat upon it. She was of vast dimensions, broad and beamy +as a Dutch sloop. Her bulk was clad in dun colour, and on her black +bonnet appeared a layer of yellow dust. She spoke to others of the +little crowd who surrounded her. They came from Bridetown Spinning Mill, +for work was suspended because Henry Ironsyde, the mill owner, had died +and now approached his grave. + +"The Ironsydes bury here, but they don't live here," said Sally Groves. +"They lived here once, at North Hill House; but that's when I first came +to the Mill as a bit of a girl." + +The big woman fanned herself with a handkerchief, then spoke a grey man +with a full beard, small head, and discontented eyes. He was Levi Baggs, +the hackler. + +"We shall have those two blessed boys over us now, no doubt," he said. +"But what know they? Things will be as they were, and time and wages the +same as before." + +"They'll be sure to do what their father wished, and there was a murmur +of changes before he died," said Sally Groves; but Levi shook his head. + +"Daniel Ironsyde is built like his father, to let well alone. Raymond +Ironsyde don't count. He'll only want his money." + +"Have you ever seen Mr. Raymond?" asked a girl. She was Nancy Buckler, +a spinner--hard-featured, sharp-voiced, and wiry. Nancy might have been +any age between twenty-five and forty. She owned to thirty. + +"He don't come to Bridetown, and if you want to see him, you must go to +'The Tiger,' at Bridport," declared another girl. Her name was Sarah +Northover. + +"My Aunt Nelly keeps 'The Seven Stars,' in Barrack Street," she +explained, "and that's just alongside 'The Tiger,' and my Aunt Nelly's +very friendly with Mr. Gurd, of 'The Tiger,' and he's told her that +Mr. Raymond is there half his time. He's all for sport and such like, and +'The Tiger's' a very sporting house." + +"He won't be no good to the mills if he's that sort," prophesied Sally +Groves. + +"I saw him once, with another young fellow called Motyer," answered +Sarah Northover. "He's very good-looking--fair and curly--quite +different from Mr. Daniel." + +"Light or dark, they're Henry Ironsyde's sons and be brought up in his +pattern no doubt," declared Mr. Baggs. + +People continued to appear, and among them walked an elderly man, a +woman and a girl. They were Mr. Ernest Churchouse, of 'The Magnolias,' +with his widowed housekeeper, Mary Dinnett, and her daughter, Sabina. +The girl was nineteen, dark and handsome, and very skilled in her +labour. None disputed her right to be called first spinner at the mills. +She was an impulsive, ambitious maiden, and Mr. Best, foreman at the +works, claimed for her that she brought genius as well as understanding +to her task. Sabina joined her friend, Nancy Buckler; Mrs. Dinnett, who +had been a mill hand in her youth, took a seat beside Sally Groves, and +Mr. Churchouse paced alone. He was a round-faced, clean-shaven man with +mild, grey eyes and iron grey hair. He looked gentle and genial. His +shoulders were high, and his legs short. Walking irked him, for a +sedentary life and hearty appetite had made him stout. + +The fall of Henry Ironsyde served somewhat to waken Ernest Churchouse +from the placid dream in which he lived, shake him from his normal +quietude, and remind him of the flight of time. He and the dead man were +of an age and had been boys together. Their fathers founded the +Bridetown Spinning Mill, and when the elder men passed away, it was +Henry Ironsyde who took over the enterprise and gradually bought out +Ernest Churchouse. But while Ironsyde left Bridetown and lived +henceforth at Bridport, that he might develop further interests in the +spinning trade, Ernest had been well content to remain there, enjoy his +regular income and live at 'The Magnolias,' his father's old-world +house, beside the river. His tastes were antiquarian and literary. He +wrote when in the mood, and sometimes read papers at the Mechanics' +Institute of Bridport. But he was constitutionally averse from real work +of any sort, lacked ambition, and found all the fame he needed in the +village community with which his life had been passed. He was a +childless widower. Mr. Churchouse strolled now into the churchyard to +look at the grave. It opened beside that of Henry Ironsyde's parents and +his wife. She had been dead for fifteen years. A little crowd peered +down into the green-clad pit, for the sides, under the direction of John +Best, had been lined with cypress and bay. The grass was rank, but it +had been mown down for this occasion round the tombs of the Ironsydes, +though elsewhere darnel rose knee deep and many venerable stones slanted +out of it. Immediately south of the churchyard wall stood the Mill, and +Benny Cogle, engineman at the works, who now greeted Mr. Churchouse, +dwelt on the fact. + +"Morning, sir," he said, "a brave day for the funeral, sure enough." + +"Good morning, Benny," answered the other. His voice was weak and +gentle. + +"When I think how near the church and Mill do lie together, I have +thoughts," continued Benny. He was a florid man of thirty, with +tow-coloured hair and blue eyes. + +"Naturally. You work and pray here all inside a space of fifty yards. +But for my part, Benny Cogle, I am inclined to think that working is the +best form of praying." + +Mr. Churchouse always praised work for others and, indeed, was under the +impression that he did his share. + +"Same here," replied the engineman, "especially while you're young. +Anyway, if I had to choose between 'em, I'd sooner work. 'Tis better for +the mind and appetite. And I lay if Mr. Ironsyde, when he lies down +there, could tell the truth, he'd rather be hearing the Mill going six +days a week and feeling his grave throbbing to my engines, than list to +the sound of the church organ on the seventh." + +"Not so," reproved Mr. Churchouse. "We must not go so far as that. Henry +Ironsyde was a God-fearing man and respected the Sabbath as we all +should, and most of us do." + +"The weaker vessels come to church, I grant," said Benny, "but the men +be after more manly things than church-going of a Sunday nowadays." + +"So much the worse for them," declared Mr. Churchouse. "Here," he +continued, "there are naturally more women than men. Since my father and +Henry Ironsyde's father established these mills, which are now justly +famous in the county, the natural result has happened and women have +come here in considerable numbers. Women preponderate in spinning +places, because the work of spinning yarn has always been in their hands +from time immemorial. And they tend our modern machinery as deftly as of +old they twirled the distaff and worked the spinning-wheel; and as +steadily as they used to trudge the rope walks and spin, like spiders, +from the masses of flax or hemp at their waists." + +"The females want religion without a doubt," said Benny. "I'm tokened to +Mercy Gale, for instance; she looks after the warping wheels, and if +that girl didn't say her prayers some fine morning, she'd be as useless +as if she hadn't eat her breakfast. 'Tis the feminine nature that craves +for support." + +A very old man stood and peered into the grave. He was the father of +Levi Baggs, the hackler, and people said he was never seen except on the +occasion of a funeral. The ancient had been reduced to a mere wisp by +the attrition of time. + +He put his hand on the arm of Mr. Churchouse and regarded the grave with +a nodding head. + +"Ah, my dear soul," he said. "Life, how short--eternity, how long!" + +"True, most true, William." + +"And I ask myself, as each corpse goes in, how many more pits will open +afore mine." + +"'Tis hid with your Maker, William." + +"Thank God I'm a good old man and ripe and ready," said Mr. Baggs. +"Not," he added, "that there's any credit to me; for you can't be +anything much but good at ninety-two." + +"While the brain is spared we can think evil, William." + +"Not a brain like mine, I do assure 'e." + +A little girl ran into the churchyard--a pretty, fair child, whose +bright hair contrasted with the black she wore. + +"They have come and father sent me to tell you, Mr. Churchouse," she +said. + +"Thank you, Estelle," he answered, and they returned to the open space +together. The child then joined her father, and Mr. Churchouse, saluting +the dead, walked to the first mourning coach and opened the door. + +It was a heavy and solid funeral of Victorian fashion proper to the +time. The hearse had been drawn by four black horses with black +trappings, and over the invisible coffin nodded a gloomy harvest of +black ostrich plumes. There were no flowers, and some children, who +crept forward with a little wreath of wild roses, were pushed back. + +The men from the Mill helped to carry their master into the church; but +there were not enough of them to support the massive oak that held a +massive man, and John Best, Levi Baggs, Benny Cogle and Nicholas Roberts +were assisted by the undertakers. + +From the first coach descended an elderly woman and a youth. The lady +was Miss Jenny Ironsyde, sister of the dead, and with her came her +nephew Daniel, the new mill-owner. He was five-and-twenty--a sallow, +strong-faced young fellow, broad in the shoulder and straight in the +back. His eyes were brown and steady, his mouth and nose indicated +decision; the funeral had not changed his cast of countenance, which was +always solemn; for, as his father before him, he lacked a sense of +humour. + +Mr. Churchouse shook hands and peered into the coach. + +"Where's Raymond?" he asked. + +"Not come," answered Miss Ironsyde. She was a sturdy woman of +five-and-fifty, with a pleasant face and kindly eyes. But they were +clouded now and she showed agitation. + +"Not come!" exclaimed Ernest with very genuine consternation. + +Daniel Ironsyde answered. His voice was slow, but he had a natural +instinct for clarity and spoke more to the point than is customary with +youth. + +"My brother has not come because my father has left him out of his will, +Mr. Churchouse." + +"Altogether?" + +"Absolutely. Will you take my aunt's arm and follow next after me, +please?" + +Two clergymen met the coffin at the lich-gate, and behind the chief +mourners came certain servants and dependents, followed by the women of +the Mill. Then a dozen business men walked together. A few of his +co-workers had sent their carriages; but most came themselves, to do the +last honour to one greatly respected. + +Mr. Churchouse paid little attention to the obsequies. + +"Not at his father's funeral!" he kept thinking to himself. His simple +mind was thrown into a large confusion by such an incident. The fact +persisted rather than the reason for it. He longed to learn more, but +could not until the funeral was ended. + +When the coffin came to the grave, Mary Dinnett stole home to look after +the midday dinner. It had weighed on her mind since she awoke, for Miss +Ironsyde and Daniel were coming to 'The Magnolias' to partake of a meal +before returning home. There were no relations from afar to be +considered, and no need for funeral baked meats in the dead man's house. + +When all was ended and only old William Baggs stood by the grave and +watched the sextons fill it, a small company walked together up the hill +north of Bridetown. Daniel went first with Mr. Churchouse, and behind +them followed Miss Jenny Ironsyde with a man and a child. The man rented +North Hill House. Arthur Waldron was a widower, who lived now for two +things: his little daughter, Estelle, and sport. No other considerations +challenged his mind. He was rich and good-hearted. He knew that his +little girl had brains, and he dealt fairly with her in the matter of +education. + +Of the Ironsyde brothers, Raymond was his personal friend, and Mr. +Waldron now permitted himself some vague expression of regret that the +young man should have been absent on such an occasion. + +"Yes," said Miss Ironsyde, to whom he spoke, "if there's any excuse for +convention it's at a funeral. No doubt people will magnify the incident +into a scandal--for their own amusement and the amusement of their +friends. If Raymond had enjoyed time to reflect, I feel sure he would +have come; but there was no time. His father has made no provision for +him, and he is rather upset. It is not unnatural that he should be, for +dear Henry, while always very impatient of Raymond's sporting tastes and +so on, never threatened anything like this." + +"No doubt Mr. Ironsyde would have made a difference if he had not died +so suddenly." + +"I think so too," she answered. + +Then Waldron and his daughter went homewards; while the others, turning +down a lane to the right, reached 'The Magnolias'--a small, ancient +house whose face was covered with green things and whose lawn spread to +the river bank. + +Mrs. Dinnett had prepared a special meal of a sort associated with the +mournful business of the day; for a funeral feast has its own character; +the dishes should be cold and the wine should be white or brown. + +Mr. Churchouse was concerned to know what Daniel meant to do for +Raymond; but he found the heir by no means inclined to emotional +generosity. + +Daniel spoke in a steady voice, though he showed a spark of feeling +presently. The fire, however, was for his dead father, not his living +brother. + +"I'm very sorry that Raymond could have been so small as to keep away +from the funeral," he said. "It was petty. But, as Aunt Jenny says, he's +built like that, and no doubt the shock of being ignored knocked him off +his balance." + +"He has the defects of his qualities, my dear. The same people can often +rise to great heights and sink to great depths. They can do worse +things--and better things--than we humdrum folk, who jog along the +middle of the road. We must forgive such people for doing things we +wouldn't do, and remember their power to do things we couldn't do." + +The young man was frankly puzzled by this speech, which came from his +aunt. He shrugged his shoulders. + +"I've got to think of father first and Raymond afterwards," he said. "I +owe my first duty to my father, who trusted me and honoured me, and knew +very well that I should obey his wishes and carry on with my life as he +would have liked to see me. He has made a very definite and clear +statement, and I should be disloyal to him--dishonest to him--if I did +anything contrary to the spirit of it." + +"Who would wish you to?" asked Ernest Churchouse. "But a brother is a +brother," he continued, "and since there is nothing definite about +Raymond in the will, you should, I think, argue like this. You should +say to yourself, 'my father was disappointed with my brother and did not +know what to do about him; but, having a high opinion of me and my good +sense and honesty, he left my brother to my care. He regarded me, in +fact, as my brother's keeper, and hoped that I would help Raymond to +justify his existence.' Don't you feel like that?" + +"I feel that my father was very long-suffering with Raymond, and his +will tells me that he had a great deal more to put up with from Raymond +than anybody ever knew, except my brother himself." + +"You needn't take up the cudgels for your father, Dan," interposed Miss +Ironsyde. "Be sure that your dear father, from the peace which now he +enjoys, would not like to see you make his quarrel with Raymond your +quarrel. I'm not extenuating Raymond's selfish and unthinking conduct as +a son. His own conscience will exact the payment for wrong done beyond +repair. He'll come to that some day. He won't escape it. He's not built +to escape it. But he's your brother, not your son; and you must ask +yourself, whether as a brother, you've fairly got any quarrel with him." + +Daniel considered a moment, then he spoke. + +"I have not," he said--"except the general quarrel that he's a waster +and not justifying his existence. We have had practically nothing to do +with each other since we left school." + +"Well," declared Mr. Churchouse, "now you must have something to do with +each other. It is an admirable thought of your Aunt Jenny's that your +father has honoured your judgment by leaving the destiny of Raymond more +or less in your hands." + +"I didn't say that; you said it," interrupted the lady. "Raymond's +destiny is in his own hands. But I do feel, of course, that Daniel can't +ignore him. The moment has come when a strong effort must be made to +turn Raymond into a useful member of society." + +"What allowance did dear Henry make him?" asked Mr. Churchouse. + +"Father gave him two hundred a year, and father paid all his debts +before his twenty-first birthday; but he didn't pay them again. Raymond +has told Aunt Jenny that he's owing two hundred pounds at this moment." + +"And nothing to show for it--we may be sure of that. Well, it might have +been worse. Is the allowance to be continued?" + +"No," said Miss Ironsyde. "That's the point. It is to cease. Henry +expressly directs that it is to cease; and to me that is very +significant." + +"Of course, for it shows that he leaves Raymond in his brother's hands." + +"I have heard Henry say that Raymond beat him," continued Miss Ironsyde. +"He was a good father and a forgiving father, but temperamentally he was +not built to understand Raymond. Some people develop slowly and remain +children much longer than other people. Raymond is one of those. Daniel, +like my dear brother before him, has developed quickly and come to man's +estate and understanding." + +"His father could trust his eldest son," declared Mr. Churchouse, "and, +as I happen to know, Daniel, you always spoke with patience and reason +about Raymond--your father has told me so. It was natural and wise, +therefore, that my late dear friend should have left Raymond to you." + +"I only want to do my duty," said the young man. "By stopping away +to-day Raymond hasn't made me feel any kinder to him, and if he were not +so stupid in some ways, he must have known it would be so; but I am not +going to let that weigh against him. How do you read the fact that my +father directs Raymond's allowance to cease, Uncle Ernest?" + +Mr. Churchouse bore no real connection to the Ironsydes; but his +relations had always been close and cordial after he relinquished his +share in the business of the mills, and the younger generation was +brought up to call him 'uncle.' + +"I read it like this," answered the elder. "It means that Raymond is to +look to you in future, and that henceforth you may justly demand that he +should not live in idleness. There is nothing more demoralising for +youth than to live upon money it doesn't earn. I should say--subject to +your aunt's opinion, to which I attach the greatest importance--that it +is your place to give your brother an interest in life and to show him, +what you know already, the value and dignity of work." + +"I entirely agree," said Jenny Ironsyde. "I can go further and declare +from personal knowledge that my brother had shadowed the idea in his +mind." + +They both regarded Daniel. + +"Then leave it there," he bade them, "leave it there and I'll think it +out. My father was the fairest man I ever met, and I'll try and be as +fair. It's up to Raymond more than me." + +"You can bring a horse to the water, though you can't make him drink," +admitted Mr. Churchouse. "But if you bring your horse to the water, +you've done all that reason and sense may ask you to do." + +Miss Ironsyde, from larger knowledge of the circumstances, felt disposed +to carry the question another step. She opened her mouth and drew in her +breath to speak--making that little preliminary sound only audible when +nothing follows it. But she did not speak. + +"Come into the garden and see Magnolia grandiflora," said Mr. +Churchouse. "There are twelve magnificent blossoms open this morning, +and I should have picked every one of them for my dear friend's grave, +only the direction was clear, that there were to be no flowers." + +"Henry disliked any attempt to soften the edges at such a time," +explained the dead man's sister. "He held that death was the skeleton at +the feast of life--a wholesome and stark reminder to the thoughtless +living that the grave is the end of our mortal days. He liked a funeral +to be a funeral--black--black. He did not want the skeleton at the feast +to be decked in roses and lilies." + +"An opinion worthy of all respect," declared Mr. Churchouse. + +Then he asked after the health of his guest and expressed sympathy for +her sorrow and great loss. + +"He'd been so much better lately that it was a shock," she said, "but he +died as he wanted to die--as all Ironsydes do die--without an illness. +It is a tradition that never seems to fail. That reconciled us in a way. +And you--how are you? You seldom come to Bridport nowadays." + +Mr. Churchouse rarely talked about himself. + +"True. I have been immersed in literary work and getting on with my +_magnum opus_: 'The Church Bells of Dorset.' You see one does not obtain +much help here--no encouragement. Not that I expect it. We men of +letters have to choose between being hermits, or humbugs." + +"I always thought a hermit was a humbug," said Jenny, smiling for the +first time. + +"Not always. When I say 'hermit,' I mean 'recluse.' With all the will to +be a social success and identify myself with the welfare of the place in +which I dwell, my powers are circumscribed. Do not think I put myself +above the people, or pretend any intellectual superiority, or any +nonsense of that sort. No, it is merely a question of time and energy. +My antiquarian work demands both, and so I am deprived by duty from +mixing in the social life as much as I wish. This is not, perhaps, +understood, and so I get a character for aloofness, which is not wholly +deserved." + +"Don't worry," said Miss Ironsyde. "Everybody cares for you. People +don't think about us and our doings half as much as we are prone to +fancy. I liked your last article in the _Bridport Gazette_. Only I +seemed to have read most of it before." + +"Probably you have. The facts, of course, were common property. My task +is to collect data and retail them in a luminous and illuminating way." + +"So you do--so you do." + +He looked away, where Daniel stood by himself with his hands in his +pockets and his eyes on the river. + +"A great responsibility for one so young; but he will rise to it." + +"D'you mean his brother, or the Mill?" + +"Both," answered Ernest Churchouse. "Both." + +Mrs. Dinnett came down the garden. + +"The mourning coach is at the door," she said. + +"Daniel insisted that we went home in a mourning coach," explained Miss +Ironsyde. "He felt the funeral was not ended until we returned home. +That shows imagination, so you can't say he hasn't got any." + +"You can never say anybody hasn't got anything," declared Mr. +Churchouse. "Human nature defeats all calculations. The wisest only +generalise about it." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AT 'THE TIGER' + + +The municipal borough of Bridport stretches itself luxuriously from east +to west beneath a wooded hill. Southward the land slopes to broad +water-meadows where rivers meet and Brit and Asker wind to the sea. +Evidences of the great local industry are not immediately apparent; but +streamers and wisps of steam scattered above the red-tiled roofs tell of +work, and westward, where the land falls, there stand shoulder to +shoulder the busy mills. + +From single yarn that a child could break, to hawsers strong enough to +hold a battleship, Bridport meets every need. Her twines and cords and +nets are famous the world over; her ropes, cables, cablets and canvas +rigged the fleet that scattered the Spanish Armada. + +The broad streets with deep, unusual side-walks are a sign of Bridport's +past, for they tell of the days when men and women span yarn before +their doors, and rope-walks ran their amber and silver threads of hemp +and flax along the pavements. But steel and steam have taken the place +of the hand-spinners, though their industry has left its sign-manual +upon the township. For the great, open side-walks make for distinction +and spaciousness, and there shall be found in all Dorset, no brighter, +cheerfuller place than this. Bridport's very workhouse, south-facing and +bowered in green, blinks half a hundred windows amiably at the noonday +sun and helps to soften the life-failure of those who dwell therein. Off +Barrack Street it stands, and at the time of the terror, when Napoleon +threatened, soldiers hived here and gave the way its name. + +Not far from the workhouse two inns face each other in Barrack +Street--'The Tiger' upon one side of the way, 'The Seven Stars' upon the +other; and at the moment when Henry Ironsyde's dust was reaching the +bottom of his grave at Bridetown, a young man of somewhat inane +countenance, clad in garments that displayed devotion to sport and +indifference to taste, entered 'The Tiger's' private bar. + +Behind the counter stood Richard Gurd, a middle-aged, broad-shouldered +publican with a large and clean-shaven face, heavy-jaw, rather sulky +eyes and mighty hands. + +"The usual," said the visitor. "Ray been here?" + +Mr. Gurd shook his head. + +"No, Mr. Ned--nor likely to. They're burying his father this morning." + +The publican poured out a glass of cherry brandy as he spoke and Mr. +Neddy Motyer rolled a cigarette. + +"Ray ain't going," said the customer. + +"Not going to his father's funeral!" + +"For a very good reason, too; he's cut off with a shilling." + +"Dear, dear," said Mr. Gurd. "That's bad news, though perhaps not much +of a surprise to Mr. Raymond." + +"It's a devil of a lesson to the rising generation," declared the youth. +"To think our own fathers can do such blackguard things, just because +they don't happen to like our way of life. What would become of England +if every man was made in the pattern of his father? Don't education and +all that count? If my father was to do such a thing--but he won't; he's +too fond of the open air and sport and that." + +"Young men don't study their fathers enough in this generation, +however," argued the innkeeper, "nor yet do young women study their +mothers enough." + +"We've got to go out in the world and play our parts," declared Neddy. +"'Tis for them to study us--not us them. You must have progress. The +thing for parents to do is to know they're back numbers and act +according." + +"They do--most of them," answered Mr. Gurd. "A back number is a back +number and behaves as such. I speak impartial being a bachelor, and I +forgive the young men their nonsense and pardon their opinions, because +I know I was young myself once, and as big a fool as anybody, and put +just the same strain on my parents, no doubt, though they lived to see +me a responsible man and done with childish things. The point for +parents is not to forget what it feels like to be young. That I never +have, and you young gentlemen would very soon remind me if I did. But +the late Mr. Henry Ironsyde found no time for all-round wisdom. He +poured his brains into hemp and jute and such like. Why, he didn't even +make a minute to court and wed till he was forty-five year old. And the +result of that was that when his brace of boys was over twenty, he stood +in sight of seventy and could only see life at that angle. And what made +it worse was, that his eldest, Mister Daniel, was cut just in his own +pattern. So the late gentleman never could forgive Mr. Raymond for being +cut in another pattern. But if what you say is right and Mister Raymond +has been left out in the cold, then I think he's been badly used." + +"So he has--it's a damned shame," said Mr. Motyer, "and I hope Ray will +do something about it." + +"There's very little we can do against the writing of the dead," +answered Mr. Gurd. Then he saluted a man who bustled into the bar. + +"Morning, Job. What's the trouble?" + +Job Legg was very tall and thin. He dropped at the middle, but showed +vitality and energy in his small face and rodent features. His hair was +black, and his thin mouth and chin clean-shaven. His eyes were small and +very shrewd; his manner was humble. He had a monotonous inflection and +rather chanted in a minor key than spoke. + +"Mrs. Northover's compliments and might we have the big fish kettle +till to-morrow? A party have been sprung on us, and five-and-twenty sit +down to lunch in the pleasure gardens at two o'clock." + +"And welcome, Job. Go round to the kitchen, will 'e?" + +Job disappeared and Mr. Gurd explained. + +"My good neighbour at 'The Seven Stars'--her with the fine pleasure +gardens and swings and so on. And Job Legg's her potman. Her husband's +right hand while he lived, and now hers. I have the use of their +stable-yard market days, for their custom is different from mine. A +woman's house and famous for her meat teas and luncheons. She does very +well and deserves to." + +"That old lady with the yellow wig?" + +Mr. Gurd pursed his lips. + +"To you she might seem old, I suppose. That's the spirit that puts a bit +of a strain on the middle-aged and makes such men as me bring home to +ourselves what we said and thought when we were young. 'Tis just the +natural, thoughtless insolence of youth to say Nelly Northover's an old +woman--her being perhaps eight-and-forty. And to call her hair a wig, +because she's fortified it with home-grown what's fallen out over a +period of twenty years, is again only the insolence of youth. One can +only say 'forgive 'em, for they know not what they do.'" + +"Well, get me another brandy anyway." + +Then entered Raymond Ironsyde, and Mr. Gurd for once felt genuinely +sorry to see his customer. + +The young man was handsome with large, luminous, grey eyes, curly, brown +hair and a beautiful mouth, clean cut, full, firm and finely modelled in +the lips. His nose was straight, high in the nostril and sensitive. He +resembled his brother, Daniel, but stood three inches taller, and his +brow was fuller and loftier. His expression in repose appeared frank and +receptive; but to-day his face wore a look half anxious, half ferocious. +He was clad in tweed knickerbockers and a Norfolk jacket, of different +pattern but similar material. His tie was light blue and fastened with +a gold pin modelled in the shape of a hunting-horn. He bore no mark of +mourning whatever. + +"Whiskey and soda, Gurd. Morning, Neddy." + +He spoke defiantly, as though knowing his entrance was a challenge. Then +he flung himself down on a cushioned seat in the bow window of the +bar-room and took a pipe and tobacco pouch from his pocket. + +Mr. Gurd brought the drink round to Raymond. He spoke upon some general +subject and pretended to no astonishment that the young man should be +here on this day. But the customer cut him short. There was only one +subject for discussion in his mind. + +"I suppose you thought I should go to my father's funeral? No doubt, +you'll say, with everybody else, that it's a disgrace I haven't." + +"I shall mind my own business and say nothing, Mister Raymond. It's your +affair, not ours." + +"I'd have done the same, Ray, if I'd been treated the same," said Neddy +Motyer. + +"It's a protest," explained Raymond Ironsyde. "To have gone, after being +publicly outraged like this in my father's will, was impossible to +anybody but a cur. He ignored me as his son, and so I ignore him as my +father; and who wouldn't?" + +"I suppose Daniel will come up to the scratch all right?" hazarded +Motyer. + +"He'll make some stuffy suggestion, no doubt. He can't see me in the +gutter very well." + +"You must get to work, Mr. Raymond; and I can tell you, as one who +knows, that work's only dreaded by them who have never done any. You'll +soon find that there's nothing better for the nerves and temper than +steady work." + +Neddy chaffed Mr. Gurd's sentiments and Raymond said nothing. He was +looking in front of him, his mind occupied with personal problems. + +Neddy Motyer made another encouraging suggestion. + +"There's your aunt, Miss Ironsyde," he said. "She's got plenty of cash, +I've heard people say, and she gives tons away in charity. How do you +stand with her?" + +"Mind your own business, Ned." + +"Sorry," answered the other promptly. "Only wanted to buck you up." + +"I'm not in need of any bucking up, thanks. If I've got to work, I'm +quite equal to it. I've got more brains than Daniel, anyway. I'm quite +conscious of that." + +"You've got tons more mind than him," declared Neddy. + +"And if that's the case, I could do more good, if I chose, than ever +Daniel will." + +"Or more harm," warned Mr. Gurd. "Always remember that, Mister Raymond. +The bigger the intellects, the more power for wrong as well as right." + +"He'll ask me to go into the works, I expect. And I may, or I may not." + +"I should," advised Neddy. "Bridetown is a very sporting place and you'd +be alongside your pal, Arthur Waldron." + +"Don't go to Bridetown with an idea of sport, however--don't do that, +Mister Raymond," warned Richard Gurd. "If you go, you put your back into +the work and master the business of the Mill." + +The young men wasted an hour in futile talk and needless drinking while +Gurd attended to other customers. Then Raymond Ironsyde accepted an +invitation to return home with Motyer, who lived at Eype, a mile away. + +"I'm going to give my people a rest to-day," said Raymond as he +departed. "I shall come in here for dinner, Dick." + +"Very good, sir," answered Mr. Gurd; but he shook his head when the +young men had gone. + +Others in the bar hummed on the subject of young Ironsyde after his back +was turned. A few stood up for him and held that he had been too +severely dealt with; but the majority and those who knew most about him +thought that his ill-fortune was deserved. + +"For look at it," said a tradesman, who knew the facts. "If he'd been +left money, he'd have only wasted the lot in sporting and been worse off +after than before; but now he's up against work, and work may be the +saving of him. And if he won't work, let him die the death and get off +the earth and make room for a better man." + +None denied the honourable obligation to work for every responsible +human being. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE HACKLER + + +The warehouse of Bridetown Mill adjoined the churchyard wall and its +northern windows looked down upon the burying ground. The store came +first and then the foreman's home, a thatched dwelling bowered in red +and white roses, with the mill yard in front and a garden behind. From +these the works were separated by the river. Bride came by a mill race +to do her share, and a water wheel, conserving her strength, took it to +the machinery. For Benny Cogle's engine was reinforced by the river. +Then, speeding forward, Bride returned to her native bed, which wound +through the valley south of the works. + +A bridge crossed the river from the yard and communicated with the +mills--a heterogeneous pile of dim, dun colours and irregular roofs +huddled together with silver-bright excrescences of corrugated iron. A +steady hum and drone as of some gigantic beehive ascended from the +mills, and their combined steam and water power produced a tremor of +earth and a steady roar in the air; while a faint dust storm often +flickered about the entrance ways. + +The store-house reeked with that fat, heavy odour peculiar to hemp and +flax. It was a lofty building of wide doors and few windows. Here in the +gloom lay bales and stacks of raw material. Italy, Russia, India, had +sent their scutched hemp and tow to Bridetown. Some was in the rough; +the dressed line had already been hackled and waited in bundles of long +hemp composed of wisps, or 'stricks' like horses' tails. The silver and +amber of the material made flashes of brightness in the dark storerooms +and drew the light to their shining surfaces. Tall, brown posts +supported the rafters, and in the twilight that reigned here, a man +moved among the bales piled roof-high around him. He was gathering rough +tow from a broken bale of Russian hemp and had stripped the Archangel +matting from the mass. + +Levi Baggs, the hackler, proceeded presently to weigh his material and +was taking it over the bridge to the hackling shop when he met John +Best, the foreman. They stopped to speak, and Levi set down the barrow +that bore his load. + +"I see you with him, yesterday. Did you get any ideas out of the man?" + +Baggs referred to the new master and John Best understood. + +"In a manner of speaking, yes," he said. "Nothing definite, of course. +It's too soon to talk of changes, even if Mister Daniel means them. +He'll carry on as before for the present, and think twice and again +before he does anything different from his father." + +"'Tis just Bridetown luck if he's the sort to keep at a dead parent's +apron-strings," grumbled the other. "Nowadays, what with education and +so on, the rising generation is generally ahead of the last and moves +according." + +"You can move two ways--backward as well as forward," answered Best. +"Better he should go on as we've been going, than go back." + +"He daren't go back--the times won't let him. The welfare of the workers +is the first demand on capital nowadays. If it weren't, labour would +very soon know the reason why." + +Mr. Best regarded Levi without admiration. + +"You are a grumbler born," he said, "and so fond of it that you squeal +before you're hurt, just for the pleasure of squealing. One thing I can +tell you, for Mister Daniel said it in so many words: he's the same in +politics as his father; and that's Liberal; and since the Liberals of +yesterday are the Radicals of to-morrow, we have every reason to +suppose he'll move with the times." + +"We all know what that means," answered Mr. Baggs. "It means getting new +machinery and increasing the output of the works for the benefit of the +owners, not them that run the show. I don't set no store on a man being +a Radical nowadays. You can't trust nobody under a Socialist." + +Mr. Best laughed. + +"You wait till they've got the power, and you'll find that the whip will +fall just as heavy from their hands as the masters of to-day. Better to +get small money and be free, than get more and go a slave in state +clothes, on state food, in a state house, with a state slave-driver to +see you earn your state keep and take your state holidays when the state +wills, and work as much or as little as the state pleases. What you +chaps call 'liberty' you'll find is something quite different, Baggs, +for it means good-bye to privacy in the home and independence outside +it." + +"That's a false and wicked idea of progress, John Best, and well you +know it," answered Levi. "You're one of the sort content to work on a +chain and bring up your children likewise; but you can't stand between +the human race and freedom--no more can Daniel Ironsyde, or any other +man." + +"Well, meantime, till the world's put right by your friends, you get on +with your hackling, my old bird, else you'll have the spreaders +grumbling," answered Mr. Best. Then he went into his home and Levi +trundled the wheelbarrow to a building with a tar-pitched, penthouse +roof, which stuck out from the side of the mill, like a fungus on a tree +stem. + +Within, before a long, low window, stood the hand dresser's tools--two +upturned boards set with a mass of steel pins. The larger board had tall +teeth disposed openly; upon the smaller, the teeth were shorter and as +dense as a hair brush. In front of them opened a grating and above ran +an endless band. Behind this grille was an exhaust, which sucked away +the dust and countless atoms of vegetable matter scattered by Levi's +activities, and the running band from above worked it. For the +authorities, he despised, considered the operations of Mr. Baggs and +ordained that they should be conducted under healthy conditions. + +He took his seat now before the rougher's hackle, turned up his shirt +sleeves over a pair of sinewy arms and powerful wrists and set to work. + +From the mass of hemp tow he drew hanks and beat the pins with them +industriously, wrenched the mass through the steel teeth again and again +and separated the short fibre from the long. Presently in his hand +emerged a wisp of bright fibre, and now flogging the finer hackling +board, he extracted still more short stalks and rubbish till the +finished strick came clean and shining as a lock of woman's hair. From +the hanks of long tow he seemed to bring out the tresses like magic. In +his swift hand each strick flashed out from the rough hank with great +rapidity, and every crafty, final touch on the teeth made it brighter. +Giving a last flick or two over the small pins, Mr. Baggs set down his +strick and soon a pile of these shining locks grew beside him, while the +exhaust sucked away the rubbish and fragments, and the mass of short +fibre which he had combed out, also accumulated for future treatment. + +He worked with the swiftness and surety of a master craftsman, scourged +his tow and snorted sometimes as he struggled with it. He was exerting a +tremendous pressure, regulated and applied with skill, and he always +exulted in the thought that he, at least, of all the workers performed +hand labour far more perfectly than any machine. But still it was not +the least of his many grievances that Government showed too little +concern for his comfort. He was always demanding increased precautions +for purifying the air he breathed. From first to last, indeed, the hemp +and tow are shedding superfluities, and a layman is astonished to see +how the broad strips and ribbons running through the machines and torn +by innumerable systems of sharp teeth in transit, emerge at the last +gasp of attenuation to trickle down the spindles and turn into the glory +of yarn. + +From Mr. Baggs, the long fibre and the short which he had combed out of +it, proceeded to the spinning mill; and now a girl came for the stricks +he had just created. + +Their future under the new master was still on every tongue at Bridetown +Mill, and the women turned to the few men who worked among them for +information on this paramount subject. + +"No, I ain't heard no more, Sarah," answered the hackler to Miss +Northover's question. "You may be sure that those it concerns most will +be the last to hear of any changes; and you may also be sure that the +changes, when made, will not favour us." + +"You can't tell that," answered Sarah, gathering the stricks. "Old Mrs. +Chick, our spreader minder, says the young have always got bigger hearts +than the old, and she'd sooner trust them than--" + +Mr. Baggs tore a hank through the comb with such vigour that its steel +teeth trembled and the dust flew. + +"Tell Granny Chick not to be a bigger fool than God made her," he said. +"The young have got harder hearts than the old, and education, though it +may make the head bigger for all I know, makes the heart smaller. He'll +be hard--hard--and I lay a week's wages that he'll get out of his +responsibilities by shovelling 'em on his dead father." + +"How can he?" asked Sarah. + +"By letting things be as they are. By saying his father knew best." + +"Young men never think that," answered she. "'Tis well known that no +young man ever thought his father knew better than himself." + +"Then he'll pretend to for his own convenience." + +"What about all that talk of changes for the better before Mister +Ironsyde died then?" + +"Talk of dead men won't go far. We'll hear no more of that." + +Sarah frowned and went her way. At the door, however, she turned. + +"I might get to hear something about it next Sunday very like," she +said. "I'm going into Bridport to my Aunt Nelly at 'The Seven Stars'; +and she's a great friend of Richard Gurd at 'The Tiger'; and 'tis there +Mister Raymond spends half his time, they say. So Mr. Gurd may have +learned a bit about it." + +"No doubt he'll hear a lot of words, and as for Raymond Ironsyde, his +father knew him for a man with a bit of a heart in him and didn't trust +him accordingly. But you can take it from me--" + +A bell rang and its note struck Mr. Baggs dumb. He ceased both to speak +and work, dropped his hank, turned down his shirt sleeves and put on his +coat. Sarah at the stroke of the bell also manifested no further +interest in Levi's forebodings but left him abruptly. For it was noon +and the dinner-hour had come. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +CHAINS FOR RAYMOND + + +Raymond Ironsyde had spent his life thus far in a healthy and selfish +manner. He owned no objection to hard work of a physical nature, for as +a sportsman and athlete he had achieved fame and was jealous to increase +it. He preserved the perspective of a boy into manhood; while his father +waited, not without exasperation, for him to reach adult estate in mind +as well as body. Henry Ironsyde was still waiting when he died and left +Raymond to the mercy of Daniel. + +Now the brothers had met to thresh out the situation; and a day came +when Raymond lunched with his friend and fellow sportsman, Arthur +Waldron, of North Hill House, and furnished him with particulars. + +In time past, Raymond's grandfather had bought a thousand acres of land +on the side of North Hill. Here he destroyed one old farmhouse and +converted another into the country-seat of his family. He lived and died +there; but his son, Henry, cared not for it, and the place had been let +to successive tenants for many years. + +Waldron was the last of these, and Raymond's ambition had always been +some day to return to North Hill House and dwell in his grandfather's +home. + +At luncheon the party of three sat at a round table on a polished floor +of oak. Estelle played hostess and gazed with frank admiration at the +chattering visitor. He brought a proposition that made her feel very +excited to learn what her father would think of it. + +Mr. Waldron was tall and thin. He lived out of doors and appeared to be +made of iron, for nothing wearied him as yet. He had high cheek-bones, +and a clean-shaved, agreeable face. He took sport most seriously, was +jealous for its rights and observant of its rituals even in the smallest +matters. Upon the etiquette of all field sports he regarded himself, and +was regarded, as an arbiter. + +"Tell me how it went," he said. "I hope your brother was sporting?" + +Mr. Waldron used this adjective in the widest possible sense. It +embraced all reputable action and covered virtue. If conduct were +'sporting,' he demanded no more from any man; while, conversely, +'unsporting' deeds condemned the doer in all relations of life and +rendered him untrustworthy from every standpoint. + +"Depends what you call 'sporting,'" answered Raymond, whose estimate of +the word was not so comprehensive. "You'd think it would have been +rather a case for generosity, but Dan didn't seem to see that. It's +unlucky for me in a way he's not larger-minded. He's content with +justice--what he calls justice. But justice depends on the mind that's +got to do it. There's no finality about it, and what Daniel calls +justice, I call beastly peddling, if not actual bullying." + +"And what did he call justice?" + +"Well, his first idea was to be just to my father, who was wickedly +unjust to me. That wasn't too good for a start, for if you are going to +punish the living, because the dead wanted them to be punished, what +price your justice anyway? But Daniel had a sort of beastly fairness +too, for he recognised that my father's very sudden death must be taken +into account. My Aunt Jenny supported me there; and she was sure he +would have altered his will if he had had time. Daniel granted that, and +I began to hope I was going to come well out of it; but I counted my +chickens before they were hatched. Some people have a sort of diseased +idea of the value of work and seem to think if you don't put ten hours a +day into an office, you're not justifying your existence. Unfortunately +for me Daniel is one of those people. If you don't work, you oughtn't +to eat--he actually thinks that." + +"The fallacy is that what seems to be play to a mind like Daniel's, is +really seen to be work by a larger mind," explained Arthur Waldron. +"Sport, for instance, which is the backbone of British character, is a +thousand times more important to the nation than spinning yarn; and we, +who keep up the great tradition of British sport on the highest possible +plane, are doing a great deal more valuable work--unpaid, mark you--than +mere merchants and people of that kind who toil after money." + +"Of course; but I never yet met a merchant who would see it--certainly +not Daniel. In fact I've got to work--in his way." + +"D'you mean he's stopping the allowance?" + +"Yes. At least he's not renewing it. He's offering me a salary if I'll +work. A jolly good salary, I grant. I can be just to him, though he +can't to me. But, if I'm going to draw the salary, I've got to learn the +business and, in fact, go into it and become a spinner. Then, at the end +of five years, if I shine and really get keen about it and help the +show, he'll take me into partnership. That's his offer; and first I told +him to go to the devil, and then I changed my mind and, after my aunt +had sounded Daniel and found that was his ultimatum, I climbed down." + +"What are you to do? Surely he won't chain an open-air man like you to a +wretched desk all your time?" + +"So I thought; but he didn't worry about that. I wanted to go abroad, +and combine business with pleasure, and buy the raw material in Russia +and India and Italy and so on. That might have been good enough; but in +his rather cold-blooded way, he pointed out that to buy raw material, +you wanted to know something about raw material. He asked me if I knew +hemp from flax, and of course I had to say I did not. So that put the +lid on that. I've got to begin where Daniel began ten years ago--at the +beginning--with this difference, that I get three hundred quid a year. +In fact there's such a mixture of fairness and unfairness in Daniel's +idea that you don't know where to have him." + +"What shall you do about it?" + +"I tell you I've agreed. I must live, obviously, and I'd always meant +to do something some day. But naturally my ideas were open air, and I +thought when I got things going and took a scheme to my father--for +horse-breeding or some useful enterprise--he would have seen I meant +business and come round and planked down. But Daniel has got no use for +horse-breeding, so I must be a spinner--for the time anyway." + +Estelle ventured to speak. + +"But only girls spin," she said. "You'd never be able to spin, Ray." + +Raymond laughed. + +"Everybody's got to spin, it seems," he answered. + +"Except the lilies," declared Estelle gravely. "'They toil not, neither +do they spin,' you know." + +Mr. Waldron regarded his daughter with respect. + +"Just imagine," he said, "at her age. They've made her a member of the +Field Botanists' Club. Only eleven years old and invited to join a +grown-up club!" + +Raymond was somewhat impressed. + +"Fancy a kid like you knowing anything about botany," he said. + +"I don't," answered the child. "I'm only just beginning. Why, I haven't +mastered the grasses yet. The flowers are easy, of course, but the +grasses are ever so difficult." + +They returned to Ironsyde's plans. + +"And when d'you weigh in?" queried his friend. + +"That's the point. That's why I invited myself to lunch. Daniel doesn't +want me in the office at Bridport; he wants me here--at Bridetown--so +that I can mess about in the works and see a lot of John Best, the +foreman, and learn all the practical side of the business. It seems +rather footling work for a man, but he did it; and he says the first +thing is to get a personal understanding of the processes and all that. +Of course I've always been keen on machinery." + +"Good, then we shall see something of each other." + +"That's what I want--more than you do, very likely. The idea was that +I went to Uncle Ernest, who is willing to let me have a room at 'The +Magnolias' and live with him for a year, which is the time Daniel wants +me to be here; but I couldn't stick Churchouse for a year." + +"Naturally." + +"So what do you say? Are you game for a paying guest? You've got tons of +room and I shouldn't be in the way." + +"How lovely!" cried Estelle. "Do come!" + +Arthur Waldron was quietly gratified. + +"I'm sure I should be delighted to have a pal in the house--a kindred +spirit, who understands sport. By all means come," he said. + +"You're sure? I should be out most of my time at the blessed works, you +know. Could I bring my horse?" + +"Certainly bring your horse." + +"That reminds me of one reasonable thing Dan's going to do," ran on +the other. "He's going to clear me. I told Aunt Jenny it was no good +beginning a new life with a millstone of debts round my neck--in fact we +came down to that. I said it was a vital condition. Aunt Jenny had +rather a lively time between us. She sympathises with me tremendously, +however, and finally got Daniel to promise he would pay off every penny +I owed--a paltry two hundred or so." + +"A very sporting arrangement. Make the coffee, Estelle, then we'll take +a walk on the downs." + +"I'm going to Uncle Ernest to tea," explained Raymond. "I shall tell him +then that I'm not coming to him, thanks to your great kindness." + +"He will be disappointed," declared Estelle. "It seems rather hard of +us to take you away from him, I'm afraid." + +"Don't you worry, kiddy. He'll get over it. In fact he'll be jolly +thankful, poor old bird. He only did it because he thought he ought to. +It's the old, traditional attitude of the Churchouses to the Ironsydes." + +"He's very wise about church bells, but he's rather vague about +flowers," replied Estelle. "He's only interested in dead things, +I think; and things that happened long, long ago." + +"In a weird sort of way, a hobby is a man's substitute for sport, I +believe," said Estelle's father. "Many have no feeling for sport; it's +left out of them and they seem to be able to live comfortably without +it. Instead they develop an instinct for something else. Generally it's +deadly from the sportsman's point of view; but it seems to take the +place of sport to the sportless. How old ruins, or church bells, can +supersede a vital, living thing, like the sport of a nation, of course +you and I can't explain; but so it is with some minds." + +"It depends how they were brought up," suggested Raymond. + +"No--take you; you weren't brought up to sport. But your own natural, +good instinct took you to it. Same with me. The moment I saw a ball, I'm +told that I shrieked till they gave it to me--at the age of one that +was. And from that time forward they had no trouble with me. A ball +always calmed me. Why? Because a ball, you may say, is the emblem of +England's greatness. I was thinking over it not long ago. There is not a +single game of the first importance that does not depend on a ball. If +one had brains, one could write a book on the inner meaning of that +fact. I believe that the ball has a lot to do with the greatness of the +Empire." + +"A jolly good idea. I'll try it on Uncle Ernest," promised Raymond. + +He was cheerful and depressed in turn. His company made him happy and +the thought that he would come to live at North Hill House also pleased +him well; but from time to time the drastic change in his life swept his +thoughts like a cloud. The picture of regular work--unloved work that +would enable him to live--struck distastefully upon his mind. + +They strolled over North Hill after luncheon and Estelle ran hither and +thither, busy with two quests. Her sharp eyes were in the herbage for +the flowers and grasses; but she also sought the feathers of the rooks +and crows who assembled here in companies. + +"The wing feathers are the best for father's pipes," she explained; "but +the tail feathers are also very good. Sometimes I get splendid luck and +find a dozen or two in a morning, and sometimes the birds don't seem to +have parted with a single feather. The place to find them is round the +furze clumps, because they catch there when the wind blows them." + +The great hogged ridge of North Hill keeps Bridetown snug in winter +time, and bursts the snow clouds on its bosom. To-day the breezes blew +and shadows raced above the rolling green expanses. The downs were +broken by dry-built walls and spattered with thickets of furze and +white-thorn, black-thorn and elder. Blue milkwort, buttercups and +daisies adorned them, with eye-bright and the lesser, quaking grass that +danced over the green. Rabbits twinkled into the furzes where Waldron's +three fox terriers ran before the party; and now and then a brave buck +coney would stand upon the nibbled knoll above his burrow and drum +danger before he darted in. It was a haunt of the cuckoo and peewit, the +bunting and carrion crow. + +"Here we killed on the seventeenth of January last," said Raymond's +host. "A fine finish to a grand run. We rolled him over on this very +spot after forty-five minutes of the best. It is always good to remember +great moments in the past." + +On the southern slope of North Hill there stood a ruined lime-kiln +whose walls were full of fern and coated with mother o' thyme. A bank of +brier and nettles lay before the mouth. They hid the foot of the kiln +and made a snug and secluded spot. Bridetown clustered in its elms far +below; then the land rose again to protect the hamlet from the south; +and beyond stretched the blue line of the Channel. + +The men sat here and smoked, while Estelle hunted for flowers and +feathers. + +She came back to them presently with a bee orchis. "For you," she said, +and gave it to Raymond. "What the dickens is it?" he asked, and she told +him. "They're rather rare, but they live happily on the down in some +places. I know where." He thanked her very much. + +"Never seen one before," he said. "A funny little pink and black devil, +isn't it?" + +"It isn't a devil," she assured him; "if anything, it's an angel. But +really it's more like a small bumble-bee than anything. Perhaps you've +never seen a bumble-bee either?" + +"Oh, yes, I have--they don't sting." Estelle laughed. + +"I thought that once. A boy in the village told me that bumble-bees have +'got no spears.' And I believed him and tried to help one out of the +window once. And I very soon found that he had got a spear." + +"That reminds me I must take a wasps' nest to-night," said her father. +"I've not decided which way to take it yet. There are seven different +ways to take a wasps' nest--all good." + +They strolled homeward presently and parted at the lodge of North Hill +House. + +"You must come down and choose your room soon," said Estelle. "It must +be one that gets the sun in it, and the moon. People always want the +sun, but they never seem to want the moon." + +"Don't they, Estelle! I know lots of people who want the moon," +declared Raymond. "Perhaps I do." + +"You can have your choice of four stalls for the horse," said Arthur +Waldron. "I always ride before breakfast myself, wet or fine. Only frost +stops me. I hope you will too--before you go to the works." + +Raymond was soon at 'The Magnolias,' and found Mr. Churchouse expecting +him in the garden. They had not met since Henry Ironsyde's death, but +the elder, familiar with the situation, did not speak of Raymond's +father. + +He was anxious to learn the young man's decision, and proved too +ingenuous to conceal his relief when the visitor explained his plans. + +"I felt it my duty to offer you a temporary home," he said, "and we +should have done our best to make you comfortable, but one gets into +one's routine and I won't disguise from you that I am glad you go to +North Hill House, Raymond." + +"You couldn't disguise it if you tried, Uncle Ernest. You're +thankful--naturally. You don't want youth in this dignified abode of +wisdom. Besides, you've got no place for a horse--you know you haven't." + +"I've no objection to youth, my dear boy, but I can't pretend that the +manners and customs of youth are agreeable to me. Tobacco, for example, +causes me the most acute uneasiness. Then the robustness and general +exaggeration of the youthful mind and body! It rises beyond fatigue, +above the middle-aged desire for calm and comfort. It kicks up its heels +for sheer joy of living; it is ever in extremes; it lacks imagination, +with the result that it is ruthless. All these characteristics may go +with a delightful personality--as in your case, Raymond--but let youth +cleave to youth. Youth understands youth. You will in fact be much +happier with Waldron." + +"And you will be happier without me." + +"It may be selfish to say so, but I certainly shall." + +"Well, you've had the virtue of making the self-denial and I think it +was awfully good of you to do so." + +"I am always here and always very happy and willing to befriend the +grandson of my father's partner," declared Mr. Churchouse. "It is +excellent news that you are going into the business." + +"Remains to be seen." + +The dining room at 'The Magnolias' was also the master's study. There +were innocent little affectations in it and the room was arranged to +create an atmosphere of philosophy and art. Books thronged in lofty +book-shelves with glass doors. These were surmounted by plaster busts of +Homer and Minerva, toned to mellowness by time. In the window was the +writing desk of Mr. Churchouse, upon which stood a photograph of Goethe. + +Tea was laid and a girl brought in the hot water when Mr. Churchouse +rang for it. After she had gone Raymond praised her enthusiastically. + +"By Jove, what a pretty housemaid!" he exclaimed. + +"Pretty, yes; a housemaid, no," explained Mr. Churchouse. "She is the +daughter of my housekeeper, Mrs. Dinnett. Mrs. Dinnett has been called +to Chilcombe, to see her old mother who is, I fear, going to die, and so +Sabina, with her usual kindness, has spent her half-holiday at home to +look after me. Sabina lives here. She is Mrs. Dinnett's daughter and one +of the spinners at the mill. In fact, Mr. Best tells me she is his most +accomplished spinner and has genius for the work. In her leisure she +does braiding at home, as many of the girls do." + +"She's jolly handsome," declared Raymond. "She's chucked away in a place +like this." + +"D'you mean 'The Magnolias'?" asked the elder mildly. + +"No, not 'The Magnolias' particularly, but Bridetown in general." + +"And why should Bridetown be denied the privilege of numbering a +beautiful girl amongst its population?" + +"Oh--why--she's lost, don't you see. Working in a stuffy mill, she's +lost. If she was on the stage, then thousands would see her. A beautiful +thing oughtn't to be hidden away." + +"God Almighty hides away a great many beautiful things," answered Mr. +Churchouse. "There are many beautiful things in our literature and our +flora and fauna that are never admired." + +"So much the worse. When our fauna blossoms out in the shape of a lovely +girl, it ought to be seen and give pleasure to thousands." + +Ernest smiled. + +"I don't think Sabina has any ambition to give pleasure to thousands. +She is a young woman of very fine temper, with a dignified sense of her +own situation and an honest pride in her own dexterity." + +"Engaged to be married, of course?" + +"I think not. She and her mother are my very good friends. Had any +betrothal taken place, I feel sure I should have heard of it." + +"Do ring for her, Mr. Churchouse, and let me look at her again. Does she +know how good-looking she is?" + +"Youth! Youth! Yes, not being a fool, she knows she is +well-favoured--much as you do, no doubt. I mean that you cannot shave +yourself every morning without being conscious that you are in the Greek +mould. I could show you the engraving of a statue by Praxiteles which is +absurdly like you. But this accident of nature has not made you vain." + +"Me! Good Lord!" + +Raymond laughed long. + +"Do not be puffed up," continued Mr. Churchouse, "for, with charm, you +combine to a certain extent the Greek vacuity. There are no lines upon +your brow. You don't think enough." + +"Don't I, by Jove! I've been thinking a great deal too much lately. I've +had a headache once." + +"Lack of practice, my dear boy. Sabina, being a woman of observation +and intelligence, is no doubt aware of the fact that she is unusually +personable. But she has brains and knows exactly what importance to +attach to such an accident. If you want to learn what spinning means, +she will be able to teach you." + +"Every cloud has a silver lining, apparently," said Raymond, and when +Sabina returned, Ernest introduced him. + +The girl was clad in black with a white apron. She wore no cap. + +"This is Mr. Raymond Ironsyde, Sabina, and he's coming to learn all +about the Mill before long." + +Raymond began to rattle away and Sabina, without self-consciousness, +listened to him, laughed at his jests and answered his questions. + +Mr. Churchouse gazed at them benevolently through his glasses. He came +unconsciously under the influence of their joy of life. + +Their conversation also pleased him, for it struck a right note--the +note which he considered was seemly between employer and employed. He +did not know that youth always modifies its tone in the presence of age, +and that those of ripe years never hear the real truth concerning the +opinions of the younger generation. + +When Raymond left for home and Mr. Churchouse walked out to the gate +with him, Sabina peeped out of the kitchen window which commanded the +entrance, and her face was lighted with very genuine animation and +interest. + +Mrs. Dinnett returned at midnight tearful, for the ancient woman at +Chilcombe had died in her arms--"at five after five," as she said. + +Mary Dinnett was an excitable and pessimistic person. She always leapt +to meet trouble half way and invariably lost her nerve upon the least +opportunity to do so. The peace of 'The Magnolias' had long offered her +a fitting sanctum, for here life moved with the utmost simplicity and +regularity; but, though as old as he was, Mary looked ahead to the time +when Mr. Churchouse might fall, and could always win an ample misery +from the reflection that she must then be at the mercy of an unfriendly +world. + +Sabina heard the full story of her grandmother's decease with every +detail of the passing, but it was the face of a young man, not the +countenance of an old woman, that flitted through her thoughts as she +went to sleep that night. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +IN THE MILL + + +John Best was taking Raymond Ironsyde round the spinning mill, but the +foreman had his own theory and proposed to initiate the young man by +easy stages. + +"You've seen the storehouses and the hacklers," he said. "Now if you +just look into the works and get a general idea of the scheme of things, +that's enough for one day." + +In the great building two sounds deafened an unfamiliar ear: a steady +roar, deep and persistent, and through it, like a staccato pulse, a +louder, more painful, more penetrating din. The bass to this harsh +treble arose from humming belts and running wheels; the crash that +punctuated their deep-mouthed riot broke from the drawing heads of the +machines. + +A lofty, open roof, full of large sky-lights, covered the operating +room, and in its uplifted dome supports and struts leapt this way and +that, while, at the height of the walls, ran rods supporting rows of +silver-bright wheels from which the power descended, through endless +bands, to the machinery beneath. The floor was of stone, and upon it +were disposed the various machine systems--the Card and Spreader, the +Drawing Frames, Roving Frames, Gill Spinners and Spinning Frames. + +The general blurred effect in Raymond's mind was one of disagreeable +sound, which made speech almost impossible. The din drove at him from +above and below; and it was accompanied by a thousand unfamiliar +movements of flying bands and wheels and squat masses of machinery that +convulsed and heaved and palpitated round him. From nearly all the +machines there streamed away continuous bright ribbons of hemp or flax, +that caught the light and shone. This was the 'sliver,' the wrought, +textile material passing through its many changes before it came to the +spinners. The amber and lint-white coils of the winding sliver made a +brightness among the duns and drabs around them and their colour was +caught again aloft where whisps of material hung irregularly--lumps of +waste from the ends of the bobbins--and there were also colour notes of +warmth in the wooden wheels on many of the machines. These struck a +genial tone into the chill greys and flash of polished steel on every +side. + +After the mechanical activity, movement came from the irregular actions +of the workers. Forty women and girls laboured here, and while some old +people only sat on stools by the spouting sliver and wound it away into +the tall cans that received it, other younger folk were more intensively +engaged. The massive figure of Sally Groves lumbered at her ministry, +where she fed the Carding Machine. She was subdued to the colour of the +hemp tow with which she plied it. Elsewhere Sarah Northover flashed the +tresses of long lines over her head and seemed to perform a rhythmic +dance with her hands, as she tore each strick into three and laid the +shining locks on her spread board. Others tended the drawers and rovers, +while Sabina Dinnett, Nancy Buckler and Alice Chick, whose high task it +was to spin, seemed to twinkle here, there and everywhere in a +corybantic measure as they served the shouting and insatiable monsters +that turned hemp and flax to yarn. + +They, indeed, specially attracted Raymond, by the activity of their work +and the charm of their swift, supple figures, where, never still, they +danced about, with a thousand, strenuous activities of hand and foot and +eye. Their work dazed him and he wanted to stop here and ask Sabina many +questions. She looked much more beautiful while spinning than in her +black dress and white apron--so the young man thought. Her work +displayed her neat, slim shape as she twirled round, stooped, leapt up +again, twisted and stood on tip-toe in a thousand fascinating +attitudes. Never a dancer in the limelight had revealed so much beauty. +She was rayed in a brown gown with a short skirt, and on her head she +wore a grey woollen cap. + +But Mr. Best forbade interest in the spinners. + +"You'll not get to them for a week yet," he said. "I'll ask you to just +take in the general hang of it, Mister Raymond, please. Power comes from +the water-wheel and the steam engine and it's brought down to each +machine. Just throw your eyes round. You ain't here to look at the +girls, if you'll excuse my saying so. You're here to learn." + +"You can learn more from the girls than all these noisy things put +together," laughed Raymond; while Mr. Best shook his head and proceeded +with his instructions. + +"Those exhausts above each system suck away the dust and small rubbish," +he explained. "We shouldn't be able to breathe without them." + +The other looked up and saw great leaden-coloured tubes, like organ +pipes, above him. Mr. Best droned on and strove to lay a foundation for +future knowledge. He was skilled in every branch of the work, and a past +master of all spinning mysteries. His lucid and simple exposition had +very well served to introduce an attentive stranger to the complex +operations going on around him, but Raymond was not attentive. He failed +to concentrate and missed fundamental essentials from the desire to +examine more advanced and obviously interesting operations. + +He apologised to John Best before the dinner-hour. + +"This is only a preliminary canter," he said. "It's all Greek to me and +it will take time to get the thing clear. It looks quite different to me +from what it must to you. I'll get the general scheme into my head first +and then work out the details. A man's mind can't make order out of this +chaos in a minute." + +He stood and tried to appreciate the trend of events. He enjoyed the +adventure, but at present made no effort to do more than enjoy it. He +would start to work later. He began to like the din and the dusty light +and the glitter and shine of polished metal and bright sliver eternally +winding into the cans. Round it hovered or sat the women like dull +moths. They wound the stream of hemp or flax away and snapped it when a +can was full. There was no pause or slackening, nothing but the whirl of +living hands and arms and bodies, dead wheels and teeth and pulleys and +pins operating on the inert tow. The mediators, animate and inanimate, +laboured together for its manufacture; while the masses of mingled wood +and steel, leather and brass and iron, moved in controlled obedience to +the giant forces liberated from steam and water that drove all. The +selfsame power, gleaned from sunshine and moisture and sublimated to +human flesh and blood through bread, plied in the fingers and muscles +and countless, complex mental directions of the men and women who +controlled. From sun-light and air, earth and water had also sprung the +fields of hemp and flax in far-off lands and yielded up their loveliness +to foreign scutchers. The dried death of countless beautiful herbs now +represented the textile fabric on which all this immense energy was +applied. + +Thus far, along an obvious line of thought, Raymond's reflections took +him, but there his slight mental effort ended, and even this much tired +him. The time for dinner came; Mr. Best now turned certain hand-wheels +and moved certain levers. They shut off the power and gradually the din +lessened, the pulsing and throbbing slowed until the whole great +complexity came to a stand-still. The drone of the overhead wheels +ceased, the crash of the draw-heads stopped. A startling silence seemed +to grow out of the noise and quell it, while a new activity manifested +itself among the workers. As a bell rang they were changed in a +twinkling and, amid chatter and laughter, like breaking chrysalids, they +flung off their basset aprons and dun overalls, to emerge in brighter +colours. Blouses of pink and blue and red flashed out, straw hats and +sun-bonnets appeared, and all streamed away like magic to their +neighbouring houses. It was as though its soul had passed and left a +dead mill behind it. + +Raymond, released for a moment from the attentions of the foreman, +strolled among the machines of the minders and spinners. Then his eyes +were held by an intimate and personal circumstance that linked these +women to this place. He found that on the whitewashed walls beside their +working corners, the girls had impressed themselves--their names, their +interests, their hopes. With little picture galleries were the walls +brightened, and with sentiments and ideas. The names of the workers were +printed up in old stamps--green and pink--and beside them one might +read, in verses, or photographs, or pictures taken from the journals, +something of the history, taste and personal life of those who set them +there. Serious girls had written favourite hymns beside their working +places; the flippant scribbled jokes and riddles; the sentimental copied +love songs that ran to many verses. Often the photograph of a maiden's +lover accompanied them, and there were also portraits of mothers and +sisters, babies and brothers. Some of the girls had hung up +fashion-plates and decorated their workshop with ugly and mean designs +for clothing that they would never wear. + +Raymond found that picture postcards were a great feature of these +galleries, and they contained also, of course, many private jests and +allusions lost upon the visitor. Character was revealed in the +collections; for the most part they showed desire for joy, and +aspiration to deck the working-place with objects and words that should +breed happy thoughts and draw the mind where its treasure harboured. +Each heart it seemed was holding, or seeking, a romance; each heart was +settled about some stalwart figure presented in the picture gallery, or +still finding temporary substance for dreams in love poetry, in +representations of happy lovers at stiles, in partings of soldier and +sailor lads from their sweethearts. Beside some of the old workers the +walls were blank. They had nothing left to set down, or hang up. + +Raymond was arrested by a little rhyme round which a black border had +been pasted. It was original: + +"I am coiling, coiling, coiling + Into the can, +And thinking, thinking, thinking, + Of my dear man. + +"He is toiling, toiling, toiling + Out on the sea, +And thinking, thinking, thinking + Only of me. + +"F.H." + +Mr. Best joined Ironsyde. + +"These walls!" he said. "It's about time we had a coat of whitewash. +Mister Daniel thinks so too." + +"Why--good lord--this is the most interesting part of the whole show. +This is alive! Who's F.H.?" + +"The girls will keep that. They like it, though I tell them it would be +better rubbed out. Poor Flossy Hackett wrote that. She was going to +marry a sailor-man, but he changed his mind, and she broke her heart and +drowned herself--that's all there is to it." + +"The damned rascal. I hope he got what he deserved." + +Mr. Best allowed his mind to peep from the shell that usually concealed +it. + +"If he did, he was one man in a thousand. He married a Weymouth woman +and Flossy went into the river--in the deep pool beyond the works. A +clever sort of girl, but a dreamer you might say." + +"I'd like to have had the handling of that devil!" + +"You never know. She may have had what's better than a wedding ring--in +happy dreams. Reality's not the best of life. People do change their +minds. He was honest and all that. Only he found somebody else he liked +better." + +At this moment Daniel Ironsyde came into the works, and while John Best +hastened to him, Raymond pursued his amusement and studied the wall by +the spinning frame where Sabina Dinnett worked. He found a photograph of +her mother and a quotation from Shakespeare torn off a calendar for the +date of August the third. He guessed that might be Sabina's birthday. +The quotation ran:-- + + "To thine own self be true; +And it must follow, as the night the day, +Thou canst not then be false to any man." + +There was no male in Sabina's picture gallery--indeed, no other picture +but that of a girl--her fellow spinner, Nancy Buckler. + +His brother approached Raymond. + +"You've made a start, Ray?" + +"Rather. It's jolly interesting. Best is wonderful, but he can't fathom +my ignorance yet." + +"It's all very simple and straightforward. Do you like your office?" + +"Yes," declared the younger. "Couldn't beat it. When I want something to +do, I can fling a line out of the window and fish in the river." + +"You have plenty to do besides fish out of the window I should hope. Let +us lunch. I'm stopping here this afternoon. Aunt Jenny wanted to know +whether you'd come to Bridport to dinner on Sunday." + +Daniel was entirely friendly now and he designed--if the future should +justify the step--to take Raymond into partnership. But only in the +event of very material changes in his brother's life would he do so. +Their aunt felt sanguine that Raymond must soon recognise his +responsibilities, settle to the business of justifying his existence and +put away childish things; Daniel was less hopeful, but trusted that she +might be right. Her imagination worked for Raymond and warned her nephew +not to be too exacting at first. She pointed out that it was very +improbable Daniel's brother would become a model in a moment, or settle +down to the business of fixed hours and clerical work without a few +lapses from the narrow and arduous path. So the elder was prepared to +see his brother kick against the pricks and even warned John Best that +it might be so. Brief acquaintance with Raymond had already convinced +the foreman of this probability, and he found himself liking Daniel's +brother from the first. The dangers, however, were not hid from him; but +while he perceived the youthful instability of the newcomer and his +impatience of detail, he presently discovered an interest in mechanical +contrivances, a spark of originality, and a feeling for new things that +might lead to results, if only the necessary application were +forthcoming and the vital interest aroused. + +Mr. Best had a simple formula. + +"The successful spinner," he often remarked, "is the man who can turn +out the best yarn from a given sample of the raw. Hand identical stuff +to ten manufacturers and you'll soon see where the best yarn comes +from." + +He knew of better yarns than came from the Ironsyde mill, and regretted +the fact. That a time might arrive when Raymond would see with him +seemed exceedingly improbable; yet he felt the dim possibility by +occasional flashes in the young man, and it was a quality of Mr. Best's +mind to be hopeful and credit other men with his own aspirations, if any +excuse existed for so doing. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +'THE SEVEN STARS' + + +On a Saturday in August, Sarah Northover, one of those who minded the +'spreader' at Bridetown Mill, came to see her aunt--the mistress of 'The +Seven Stars,' in Barrack Street, Bridport. + +She had walked three miles through the hot and dusty lanes and found the +shady streets of Bridport cool by comparison, but there was work for her +at 'The Seven Stars,' and Mrs. Northover proved very busy. A holiday +party of five-and-twenty guests was arriving at five o'clock for tea, +and Sarah, perceiving that her own tea would be a matter for the future, +lent her aunt a hand. + +Her tea gardens and pleasure grounds were the pride of Nelly Northover's +heart. Three quarters of an acre extended here behind the inn, and she +had erected swings for the children and laid a croquet lawn for those +who enjoyed that pastime. Lawn tennis she would not permit, out of +respect for her herbaceous border which surrounded the place of +entertainment. At one corner was a large summer-house in which her +famous teas were generally taken. The charge was one shilling, and being +of generous disposition, Mrs. Northover provided for that figure a +handsome meal. + +She was a large, high-bosomed woman, powerfully built, and inclined to +stoutness. Her complexion was sanguine, and her prominent eyes were very +blue. Of a fair-minded and honest spirit, she suffered from an excitable +temper and rather sharp tongue. But her moods were understood by her +staff, and if her emotional quality did injustice, an innate sense of +what was reasonable ultimately righted the wrong. + +Sarah helped Job Legg and others to prepare for the coming party, while +Mrs. Northover roamed the herbaceous border and cut flowers to decorate +the table. While she pursued this work there bustled in Richard Gurd +from 'The Tiger.' He was in his shirt-sleeves and evidently pushed for +time. + +"Wonders never cease," said Nelly, smiling upon him. "It's a month of +Sundays since you was in my gardens. I'll lay you've come for some +flowers for your dining table." + +Reciprocity was practised between these best of friends, and while Mr. +Gurd often sent customers to Mrs. Northover, since tea parties were not +a branch of business he cared about, she returned his good service with +gifts from the herbaceous border and free permission to use her spacious +inn yard and stables. + +"I'm always coming to have a look round at your wonderful flower-bed," +said Richard, "and some Sunday morning, during church hours, I will do +so; but you know how busy we all are in August. And I don't want no +flowers; but I want the run of your four-stall stable. There's a 'beano' +coming over from Lyme and I'm full up already." + +"Never no need to ask," she answered. "I'll tell Job to set a man on to +it." + +He thanked her very heartily and she gave him a rose. Then he admired +the grass, knowing that she prided herself upon it. + +"Never seen such grass anywhere else in Bridport," he assured her. +"There's lots try to grow grass like yours; but none can come near +this." + +"'Tis Job's work," she told him. "He's a Northerner and had the charge +of a bowling-green at his uncle's public; and what he don't know about +grass ain't worth knowing." + +"He's a sheet-anchor, that man," confessed Richard; "a sheet-anchor and +a tower of strength, as you might say." + +"I don't deny it," admitted Nelly. "Sometimes, in a calm moment, I run +my mind over Job Legg, and I'm almost ashamed to think how much I owe +him." + +"It ain't all one way, however. He's got a snug place, and no potman in +Dorset draws more money, though there's some who draws more beer." + +"There's no potman in Dorset with his head," she answered. "He's got a +brain and it's very seldom indeed you find such an honest chap with such +a lot of intellects. The clever ones are mostly the downy ones; but +Job's single thought is the welfare of the house, and he pushes honesty +to extremes." + +"If you can say that, he must be a wonder, certainly, for none knows +what honesty means better than you," said Mr. Gurd. He had put Nelly's +rose into his coat. + +"He's more than a potman, chiefly along of being such a good friend to +my late husband. Almost the last sensible thing my poor dear said to me +before he died was never to get rid of Job. And no doubt I never shall. +I'm going to put up his money at Michaelmas." + +"Well, don't make the man a god, and don't you spoil him. Job's a very +fine chap and can carry corn as well as most of 'em--in fact far better; +but a man is terrible quick to trade on the good opinion of his fellow +man, and if you let him imagine you can't do without him, you may put +false and fantastic ideas into his head." + +"I'm not at all sure if I could do without him," she answered, "though, +even if he knew it, he's far too fine a character to take advantage. A +most modest creature and undervalued accordingly." + +Then a boy ran in for Richard and he hastened away, while Nelly took a +sheaf of flowers to the summer-house and made the table bright with +them. + +She praised her niece's activities. + +"'Tis a shame to ring you in on your half-holiday," she said. "But +you're one of the sensible sort, and you won't regret being a good girl +to me in the time to come." + +Then she turned to Job. + +"Gurd's got a char-a-bank and a party on the way from Lyme, and he's +full up and wants the four-horse stable," she told him. It was part of +Job's genius never to be put about, or driven from placidity by +anything. + +"Then there's no time to lose," he said. "We're ready here, and now if +Sarah will lend a hand at the table over there in the shade for the +party of six--" + +"Lord! I'd forgotten them." + +"I hadn't," he answered. "They're cutting in the kitchen now and the +party's due at four. So you'll have them very near off your hands before +the big lot comes. I'll see to the stable and get in a bit of fresh +straw and shake down some hay. Then I'll take the bar and let Miss +Denman come to help with the tea." + +He went his way and Sarah sat down a moment while her aunt arranged the +flowers. + +"There's no tea-tables like yours," she said. + +"I pride myself on 'em. A lot goes to a tea beside the good food, in my +opinion. Some human pigs don't notice my touches and only want to stuff; +but the bettermost have an eye for everything sweet and clean about 'em. +Such nicer characters don't like poultry messing round and common things +in sight while they eat and drink. I know what I feel myself about a +clean cloth and a bunch of fine flowers on the table, and many people +are quite as particular as me. I train the girls up to take a pride in +such things, and now and again a visitor will thank me for it." + +"I could have brought a bunch of flowers from our little garden," said +Sarah. + +"It would be coals to Newcastle, my dear. We make a feature of 'em. Job +Legg understands the ways of 'em, and you see the result. You can pick +all day from my herbaceous border and not miss what you take." + +"Nobody grows sweet peas like yours." + +"Job again. He's mastered the sweet pea in a manner given to few. He'll +bring out four on a stalk, and think nothing of it." + +"Mister Best, our foreman, is wonderful in a garden, too," answered +Sarah. "And a great fruit grower also." + +"That reminds me. I've got a fine dish of greengages for this party. In +the season I fling in a bit of fruit sometimes. It always comes as a +pleasant surprise to tea people that they ain't called to pay extra for +fruit." + +She went her way and Sarah turned to a lesser entertainment under +preparation in a shady corner of the garden. + +A girl of the house was already busy there, and the guests had arrived. +They were hot and thirsty. Some sat on the grass and fanned themselves. +A young man did juggling feats with the croquet balls for the amusement +of two young women. + +Not until half-past six came any pause, but after that hour the tea +drinkers thinned off; the big party had come and gone; the smaller +groups were all attended to and tea was served in Mrs. Northover's +private sitting-room behind the bar for herself, Sarah and the barmaid. +Being refreshed and rested, Mrs. Northover turned to the affairs of her +niece. At the same moment Mr. Legg came in. + +"Sit down and have some tea," said Mrs. Northover. + +"I've took a hasty cup," he answered, "but could very well do with +another." + +"And how's Mister Roberts, Sarah?" asked her aunt. + +"Fine. He's playing in a cricket match to-day--Bridetown against +Chilcombe. They've asked him to play for Bridport since Mister Raymond +saw him bowl. He's very pleased about it." + +"Teetotal, isn't he?" asked Mr. Job. + +"Yes, Mister Legg. Nick have never once touched a drop in all his life +and never means to." + +"A pity there ain't more of the same way of thinking," said Mrs. +Northover. "And I say that, though a publican and the wife of a +publican; and so do you, don't you, Job?" + +"Most steadfast," he replied. "When I took on barman as a profession, I +never lifted pot or glass again to my own lips, and have stood between +many a young man and the last half pint. I tell you this to your face, +Missis Northover. Not an hour ago I was at 'The Tiger,' to let Richard +Gurd know the stable was ready, and in the private bar there were six +young men, all drinking for the pleasure of drinking. If the younger +generation only lapped when 'twas thirsty, half the drinking-places +would shut, and there wouldn't be no more brewers in the peerage." + +He shook his head and drank his tea. + +Mrs. Northover changed the subject. + +"How's the works?" she asked. "Do the people like the new master?" + +"Just the same--same hours, same money--everything. And Mister Daniel's +brother, Mister Raymond's, come to it to learn the business. He is a +cure!" + +"He's over there now," said Job, waving his hand in the direction of +'The Tiger.' "Drinking port wine he is with that young sport, Motyer, +and others like him. I don't like Motyer's face. He's a shifty chap, and +a thorn in his family's side by all accounts. But Mister Raymond have a +very open countenance and ought to have a good heart." + +"What do you mean when you say he's a 'cure,' Sarah?" asked her aunt. + +"He's that friendly with us girls," she answered. "He's supposed to be +learning all there is to spinning, but he plays about half his time and +you can't help laughing. He's so friendly as if he was one of us; but +Sabina Dinnett is his pet. Wants to make her smoke cigarettes! But +there's no harm to him if you understand." + +"There's always harm to a chap that plays about and don't look after his +own business," declared Job. "I understand his brother's been very +proper about him, and now it's up to him; and he ain't at the Mill to +offer the girls cigarettes." + +"He's got his own room and Mister Best wishes he'd bide in it," +explained Sarah, "but he says he must learn, and so he's always +wandering around. But everybody likes him, except Levi Baggs. He don't +like anybody. He'd like to draw us all over his hackling frames if he +could." + +They chattered awhile, then worked again; but Sarah stayed to supper, +and it was not until half-past ten o'clock that she started for home. + +Another Bridetown girl--Alice Chick, the spinner--had been spending her +half holiday in Bridport. Now she met Sarah, by appointment, at the top +of South Street and the two returned together. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A WALK + + +The Carding Machine was a squat and noisy monster. Mr. Best confessed +that it had put him in mind of a passage from Holy Writ, for it seemed +to be all eyes, behind and before. The eyes were wheels, and beneath, +the mass of the carder opened its mouth--a thin and hungry slit into +which wound an endless band. Spread upon this leathern roller was the +hemp tow--that mass of short material which Levi Baggs, the hackler, +pruned away from his long strides. As for the minder, Sally Groves, she +seemed built and born to tend a Carding Machine. She moved with dignity +despite her great size, and although covered in tow dust from head to +foot and powdered with a layer of pale amber fluff, she stood as well as +another for the solemnity of toil, laboured steadfastly, was neither +elated, nor cast down, and presented to younger women a spectacle of +skill, resolution and good sense. The great woman ennobled her work; +through the dust and din, with placid and amiable features, she peered, +and ceased not hour after hour, to spread the tow truly and evenly upon +the rolling board. One of less experience might have needed to weigh her +material, but Sally never weighed; by long practice and good judgment, +she produced sliver of even texture. + +The carder panted, crashed and shook with its energies. It glimmered all +over with the bright, hairy gossamer of the tow, which wound thinly +through systems of fast and slow wheels. Between them the material was +lashed and pricked, divided and sub-divided, torn and lacerated by +thousands of pins, that separated strand from strand and shook the +stuff to its integral fibres before building it up again. Despite the +thunder and the suggestion of immense forces exerted upon the frail +material, utmost delicacy marked the operations of the card. Any real +strain must have torn to atoms the fine amber coils in which it ejected +the strips of shining sliver. Enormous waste marked the operation. +Beneath the machine rose mounds of dust and dirt, and fluff, light as +thistledown; while as much was sucked away into the air by the exhaust +above. + +In a lion-coloured overall and under a hat tied beneath her chin with a +yellow handkerchief, Sally Groves pursued her task. Then came to her +Sabina Dinnett and, ceasing not to spread her tow the while, Sally spoke +serious words. + +"I asked Nancy Buckler to send you along when your machine stopped a +minute. You won't be vexed with me if I say something, will you?" + +"Vexed with you, Sally? Who ever was vexed with you?" + +"I'm old enough to be your mother, and 'tis her work if anybody's to +speak to you," explained Sally; "but she's not here, and she don't see +what I can't help seeing." + +"What have you seen then?" + +"I've seen a very good-looking young man by the name of Raymond Ironsyde +wasting a deuce of a lot of his time by your spinning frame; and wasting +your time, too." + +Sabina changed colour. + +"Fancy you saying that!" she exclaimed. "He's got to learn the +business--the practical side, Sally. And he wants to master it carefully +and grasp the whole thing." + +Miss Groves smiled. + +"Ah. He didn't take long mastering the carder," she said. "Just two +minutes was all he gave me, and I don't think he was very long at the +drawing heads neither; and I ain't heard Sarah Northover say he spent +much of his time at the spreader. It all depends on the minder whether +Mister Raymond wants to know much about the work!" + +"But the spinning is the hardest to understand, Sally." + +"Granted, but he don't ask many questions of Alice Chick or Nancy +Buckler, do he? I'm not blaming him, Lord knows, nor yet you, but for +friendship I'm whispering to you to be sensible. He's a very +kind-hearted young gentleman, and if he had a memory as big as his +promises, he'd soon ruin himself. But, like a lot of other nice chaps +full of generous ideas, he forgets 'em when the accident that woke 'em +is out of his mind. And all I say, Sabina, is to be careful. He may be +as good as gold, and I dare say he is, but he's gone on you--head +over heels--he can't hide it. He don't even try to. And he's a gentleman +and you're a spinner. So don't you be silly, and don't think the worse +of me for speaking." + +Sabina entertained the opinions concerning middle-age common to youth, +but she was fond of Sally and set her heart at rest. + +"You needn't be frightened," she answered. "He's a gentleman, as you +say; and you know I'm not the sort to be a fool. I can't help him +coming; and I can't be rude to the young man. For that matter I +wouldn't. I won't forget what you've said all the same." + +She hurried away and started her machine; but while her mind +concentrated on spinning, some subconscious instincts worked at another +matter and she found that Sally had cast a cloud upon a coming event +which promised nothing but sunshine. + +She had agreed to go for a walk with Raymond Ironsyde on the following +Sunday, and he had named their meeting-place: a bridge that crossed the +Bride in the vale two miles from the village. She meant to go, for the +understanding between her and Raymond had advanced far beyond any point +dreamed of by Sally Groves. Sabina's mind was in fact exceedingly full +of Raymond, and his mind was full of her. Temperament had conspired to +this state of things, for while the youth found himself in love for the +first time in his life, and pursued the quest with that ardour and +enthusiasm until now reserved for sport, Sabina, who had otherwise been +much more cautious, was not only in love, but actually felt that shadowy +ambitions from the past began to promise realisation. She was not vain, +but she knew herself a finer thing in mind and body than most of the +girls with whom she worked. She had read a great deal and learned much +from Mr. Churchouse, who delighted to teach her, and from Mr. Best, with +whom she was a prime favourite. She had refused several offers of +marriage and preserved a steady determination not to wed until there +came a man who could lift her above work and give her a home that would +embrace comfort and leisure. She waited, confident that this would +happen, for she knew that she could charm men. As yet none had come who +awakened any emotion of love in Sabina; and she told herself that real +love might alter her values and send her to a poor man's home after all. +If that happened, she was willing; but she thought it improbable; +because, in her experience, poor men were ignorant, and she felt very +sure no ignorant man would ever make her love him. + +Then came into her life one very much beyond her dreams, and from an +attitude of utmost caution before a physical beauty that fascinated her, +she woke into tremendous excitation of mind at the discovery that he, +too, was interested. To her it seemed that he had plenty of brains. His +ideas were human and beautiful. He declared the conditions of the +workers to be not sufficiently considered. He was full of nebulous +theories for the amelioration of such conditions. The spectacle of women +working for a living caused Raymond both uneasiness and indignation. To +Sabina, it seemed that he was a chivalric knight of romance--a being +from a fairy story. She had heard of such men, but never met with one +outside a novel. She glorified Raymond into something altogether +sublime--as soon as she found that he liked her. He filled her head, +and while her common-sense vainly tried to talk as Sally Groves had +talked, each meeting with the young man threw her back upon the +tremendous fact that he was deeply interested in her and did not care +who knew it. Common-sense could not modify that; nor would she listen to +common-sense, when it suggested that Raymond's record was uninspiring, +and pointed to no great difference between him and other young men. She +told herself that he was misunderstood; she whispered to herself that +she understood him. It must be so, for he had declared it. He had said +that he was an idealist. As a matter of fact he did not himself know the +meaning of the word half as well as Sabina. + +He filled her thoughts, and believing him to be honourable, in the +everyday acceptation of the word, she knew she was safe and need not +fear him. This fact added to the joy and excitement of a situation that +was merely thrilling, not difficult. For she had to be receptive only, +and that was easy: the vital matter rested with him. She did not do +anything to encourage him, or take any step that her friends could call +"forward." She just left it to him and knew not how far he meant to go, +yet felt, in sanguine moments, that he would go all the way, sooner or +later, and offer to marry her. Her friends declared it would be so. They +were mightily interested, but not jealous, for the girls recognised +Sabina's advantages. + +When, therefore, he asked her to take a walk on a certain Sunday +afternoon, she agreed to do so. There was no plotting or planning about +it. He named a familiar place of meeting and proposed to go thence to +the cliffs--a ramble that might bring them face to face with a dozen +people who knew them. She felt the happier for that. Nor could Sally +Groves and her warning cast her down for long. The hint that Raymond was +a gentleman and Sabina a spinner touched a point in their friendship +long past. The girl knew that well enough; but she also knew what Sally +did not, and told herself that Raymond was a great deal more than a +gentleman, just as she--Sabina--was something more than a spinner. That, +however, was the precious knowledge peculiar to the young people +themselves. She could not expect Sally, or anybody else, to know it yet. + +As for the young man, life had cut away from him most of his former +interests and amusements. He was keeping regular hours and working +steadily. He regarded himself as a martyr, yet could get none to take +that view. To him, then, came his love affair as a very present help in +time of trouble. The emotions awakened by Sabina were real, and he fully +believed that she was going to be essential to his life's happiness and +completion. He knew nothing about women, for his athletic pursuits and +ambitions to excel physically produced an indifference to them. But with +the change in his existence, and the void thereby created, came love, +and he had leisure to welcome it. He magnified Sabina, and since her +intellect was as good as his own and her education better, he assured +himself that she was in every respect superior to her position and +worthy of any man's admiration. + +He did not analyse his feelings or look ahead very far. He did not +bother to ask himself what he wanted. He was only concerned to make +Sabina 'a chum,' as he said, to himself. He knew this to be nonsense, +even while he said it, but in the excitement of the quest, chose to +ignore rational lines of thought. + +They met by the little bridge over Bride, then walked southerly up a +hill to a hamlet, and so on to the heights. Beneath the sponge-coloured +cliffs eastward swept the grand scythe of Chesil Bank; but an east wind +had brought its garment of grey-blue haze and the extremity of the Bank, +with Portland Bill beyond, was hidden. The cliffs gave presently and +green slopes sank to the beaches. They reached a place where, separated +from the sea by great pebble-ridges, there lay a little mere. Two swans +swam together upon it, and round about the grey stone banks were washed +with silver pink, where the thrift prospered. + +Sabina had not talked much, though she proved a good listener; but +Raymond spoke fitfully, too, at first. He was new to this sort of thing +and told her so. + +"I don't believe I've ever been for a walk with a girl in my life +before," he said. + +"I can't walk fast enough for you, I'm afraid." + +"Oh yes, you can; you're a very good walker." + +At last he began to tell her about himself, in the usual fashion of the +male, who knows by instinct that subject is most interesting to both. He +dwelt on his sporting triumphs of the past, and explained his trials and +tribulations in the present. He represented that he was mewed up like an +eagle. He described how the tragic call to work for a living had sounded +in his ear when he anticipated no such painful experience. Before this +narrative Sabina affected a deeper sympathy than she felt, yet honestly +perceived that to such a man, his present life of regular hours must be +dreary and desolate. + +"It's terrible dull for you, I'm sure," she said. + +"It was," he confessed, "but I'm getting broken in, or perhaps it's +because you're so jolly friendly. You're the only person I know in the +whole world who has got the mind and imagination to see what a frightful +jar it was for an open-air man like me to be dropped into this. People +think it is the most unnatural thing on earth that I should suddenly +begin to work. But it's just as unnatural really as if my brother +suddenly began to play. Even my great friend, Arthur Waldron, talks +rubbish about everybody having to work sooner or later--not that he ever +did. But you were quick enough to see in a moment. You're tremendously +clever, really." + +"I wish I was; but I saw, of course, that you were rather contemptuous +of it all." + +"So I was at first," he confessed. "At first I felt that it was a +woman's show, and that what women can do well is no work for men. But +I soon saw I was wrong. It increased my respect for women in a way. To +find, for instance, that you could do what you do single-handed and make +light of it; that was rather an eye-opener. Whenever any pal of mine +talks twaddle about what women can't do, I shall bring him to see you at +work." + +"I could do something better than spin if I got the chance," she said, +and he applauded the sentiment highly. + +"Of course you could, and I'm glad you've got the pluck to say so. I +knew that from the first. You're a lot too clever for spinning, really. +You'd shine anywhere. Let's sit here under this thorn bush. I must get +some rabbiting over this scrub. The place swarms with them. You don't +mind if I smoke?" + +They rested, and he ventured to make a personal remark after Sabina had +taken off her gloves to cool her hands. + +"You've hurt yourself," he said, noting what seemed to be an injury. But +she made light of it. + +"It's only a corn from stopping the spindles. Every spinner's hands are +like that. Alice Chick has chilblains in winter, then she gets a cruel, +bad hand." + +The slight deformity made Raymond uncomfortable. He could not bear to +think of a woman suffering such a stigma in her tender flesh. + +"They ought to invent something to prevent you being hurt," he said, and +Sabina laughed. + +"Why, there are very few manual trades don't leave their mark," she +answered, "and a woman's lucky to get nothing worse than a scarred +hand." + +"Would it come right," he ventured to ask, "if you gave up spinning?" + +"Yes, in no time. There are worse things happen to you in the mills than +that--and more painful. Sometimes the wind from the reels numbs your +fingers till you can't feel 'em and they go red, and then blue. And +there's always grumbling about the temperature, because what suits hemp +and flax don't suit humans. If some clever man could solve these +difficulties, it would be more comfortable for us. Not that I'm +grumbling. Our mill is about as perfect as any mill can be, and we've +got the blessing of living in the country, too--that's worth a lot." + +"You're fond of the country." + +"Couldn't live out of it," she said. "Thanks to Mr. Churchouse, I know +more about things than some girls." + +"I should think you did." + +"He's very wise and kind and lends me books." + +"A very nice old bird. I nearly went to live with him when I came to +Bridetown. Sorry I didn't, now." + +She smiled and did not pretend to miss the compliment. + +"As to the Mill," he went on; "don't think I'm the sort of chap that +just drifts and is contented to let things be as they were in the time +of his father and grandfather." + +"Wouldn't you?" + +"Certainly not. No doubt it's safer and easier and the line of least +resistance and all that sort of thing. But when I've once mastered the +business, you'll see. I didn't want to come in, but now I'm in, I'm +going to the roots of it, and I shall have a pretty big say in things, +too, later on." + +"Fancy!" said Sabina. + +"Oh yes. You mustn't suppose my brother and I see alike all round. We +don't. He wants to be a copy of my father, and I've no ambition to be +anything of the kind. My father wasn't at all sporting to me, Sabina, +and it doesn't alter the fact because he's dead. The first thing is the +workers, and whatever I am, I'm clever enough to know that if we don't +do a good many things for the workers pretty soon, they'll do those +things for themselves. But it will be a great deal more proper and breed +a lot more goodwill between labour and capital, if capital takes the +first step and improves the conditions and raises the wages all round. +D'you know what I would do if I had my way? I'd go one better than the +Trade Unions! I'd cut the ground from under their feet! I'd say to +Capital 'instead of whining about the Trades Unions, get to work and +make them needless.'" + +But these gigantic ideas, uttered on the spur of the moment by one who +knew less than nothing of his subject, did not interest Sabina as much +as he expected. The reason, however, he did not know. It was that he +had called her by her name for the first time. It slipped out without +intention, though he was conscious of it as he spoke it; but he had no +idea that it had greatly startled her and awoke mingled feelings of +delight and doubt. She was delighted, because it meant her name must +have been often in his thoughts, she was doubtful, because its argued +perhaps a measure less of that respect he had always paid her. But, on +the whole, she felt glad. He waited for her to speak and did not know +that she had heard little, but was wondering at that moment if he would +go back to the formal 'Miss Dinnett' again, or always call her 'Sabina' +in future. + +After a pause Raymond spoke. + +"Now tell me about yourself," he said. "I'm sure you've heard enough +about me." + +"There's nothing to tell." + +"How did you happen to be a spinner?" + +"Mother was, so I went into it as a matter of course." + +"I should have thought old Churchouse would have seen you're a genius, +and educated you and adopted you." + +"Nothing of a genius about me. I'm like most other girls." + +"I never saw another girl like you," he said. + +"You'd spoil anybody with your compliments." + +"Never paid a compliment in my life," he declared. + +Their conversation became desultory, and presently Sabina said she must +be going home. + +"Mother will be wondering." + +On the way back they met another familiar pair and Sabina speculated as +to what Raymond thought; but he showed no emotion and took off his hat +to Sarah Northover and Nicholas Roberts, the lathe worker, as they +passed by. Sarah smiled, and Nicholas, a thin, good-looking man, took +off his hat also. + +"I must go and study the lathes," said Raymond after they had passed. +"That's a branch of the work I haven't looked at yet. Roberts seems a +good chap, and he's a very useful bowler, I find." + +"He's engaged to Sarah; they're going to be married when he can get a +house." + +"That's another thing that must be looked to. There are scores of +cottages that want pulling down here. I shall point that out to the Lord +of the Manor when I get a chance." + +"You're all for changes and improvements, Mister Ironsyde." + +"Call me Raymond, Sabina." + +"I couldn't do that." + +"Why not? I want you to. By the way, may I call you Sabina?" + +"Yes, if you care to." + +They parted at the entrance gate of 'The Magnolias,' and Raymond thanked +her very heartily for her company. + +"I've looked forward to this," he said. "And now I shall look forward to +the next time. It's very sporting of you to come and I'm tremendously +grateful and--good-bye, Sabina--till to-morrow." + +He went on up the road to North Hill House and felt the evening had +grown tasteless without her. He counted the hours to when he would see +her again. She went to work at seven o'clock, but he never appeared at +the Mill until ten, or later. + +He began to see that this was the most serious thing within his +experience. He supposed that it must be enduring and tend to alter the +whole tenor of his life. Marriage was one of the stock jokes in his +circle, yet, having regard for Sabina, this meant marriage or nothing. +He felt ill at ease, for love had not yet taken the bit and run away +with him. Other interests cried out to him--interests that he would have +to give up. He tried to treat the matter as a joke with himself, but he +could not. He felt melancholy, and that night at supper Waldron asked +what was wrong, while Estelle told him he must be ill, because he was +so dull. + +"I don't believe the spinning works are good for you," she said. + +"Ask for a holiday and distract your mind with other things," suggested +Waldron. "If you'd come out in the mornings and ride for a couple of +hours before breakfast, as I do, you'd be all right." + +"I will," promised Raymond. "I want bucking up." + +He pictured Sabina on horseback. + +"I wish to God I was rich instead of being a pauper!" he exclaimed. + +"My advice is that you stick it out for a year or more, till you've +convinced your brother you'll never be any good at spinning," said +Arthur Waldron. "Then, after he knows you're not frightened of work, +but, of course, can't excel at work that isn't congenial, he'll put +money into your hands for a higher purpose, and you will go into +breeding stock, or some such thing, to help keep up the sporting +instincts of the country." + +With that bright picture still before him Raymond retired. But he was +not hopeful and even vague suggestions on Waldron's part that his friend +should become his bailiff and study agriculture did not serve to win +from the sufferer more than thanks. The truth he did not mention, +knowing that neither Waldron, nor anybody else, would offer palatable +counsel in connection with that. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LECTURE + + +Daniel Ironsyde sat with his Aunt Jenny after dinner and voiced +discontent. But it was not with himself and his personal progress that +he felt out of tune. All went well at the Mill save in one particular, +and he found no fault either with the heads of the offices at Bridport, +or with John Best, who entirely controlled the manufacture at Bridetown. +His brother caused the tribulation of his mind. + +Miss Ironsyde sympathised, but argued for Raymond. + +"He has an immense respect for you and would not willingly do anything +to annoy you, I'm sure of that. You must remember that Raymond was not +schooled to this. It takes a boy of his temperament a long time to find +the yoke easy. You were naturally studious, and wise enough to get into +harness after you left school; Raymond, with his extraordinary physical +powers, found the fascination of sport over-mastering. He has had to give +up what to your better understanding is trivial and unimportant, but it +really meant something to him." + +"He hasn't given up as much as you might think," answered Daniel. "He's +always taking holidays now for cricket matches, and he rides often with +Waldron. It was a mistake his going there. Waldron is a person with one +idea, and a foolish idea at that. He only thinks a man is a man when +he's tearing about after foxes, or killing something, or playing with a +ball of some sort. He's a bad influence for Raymond. But it's not that. +It's not so much what Raymond doesn't do as what he does do. He's +foolish with the spinners and minders at the Mill." + +"He might be," said Jenny Ironsyde, "but he's a gentleman." + +"He's an idiot. I believe he'd wreck the whole business if he had the +power. Best tells me he talks to the girls about what he's going to do +presently, and tells them he will raise all their wages. He suggests to +perfectly satisfied people that they are not getting enough money! Well, +it's only human nature for them to agree with him, and you can easily +see what the result of that would be. Instead of having the hands +willing and contented, they'll grow unsettled and grumble, and then work +will suffer and a bad spirit appear in the Mill. It is simply insane." + +"I quite agree," answered his aunt. "There's no excuse whatever for +nonsense of that sort, and if Raymond minded his own business, as he +should, it couldn't happen. Surely his own work doesn't throw him into +the company of the girls?" + +"Of course it doesn't. It's simply a silly excuse to waste his time and +hear his own voice. He ought to have learned all about the mechanical +part weeks ago." + +"Well, I can only advise patience," said Miss Ironsyde. "I don't suppose +a woman would carry much weight with him, an old one I mean--myself in +fact. But failing others I will do what I can. You say Mr. Waldron's no +good. Then try Uncle Ernest. I think he might touch Raymond. He's +gentle, but he's wise. And failing that, you must tackle him yourself, +Daniel. It's your duty. I know you hate preaching and all that sort of +thing, but there's nobody else." + +"I suppose there isn't. It can't go on anyway, because he'll do harm. I +believe asses like Raymond make more trouble than right down wicked +people, Aunt Jenny." + +"Don't tell him he's an ass. Be patient--you're wonderfully patient +always for such a young man, so be patient with your brother. But try +Uncle Ernest first. He might ask Raymond to lunch, or tea, and give him +a serious talking to. He'll know what to say." + +"He's too mild and easy. It will go in at one ear and come out of the +other," prophesied Daniel. + +But none the less he called on Mr. Churchouse when next at Bridetown. + +The old man had just received a parcel by post and was elated. + +"A most interesting work sent to me from 'A Well Wisher,'" he said. "It +is an old perambulation of Dorsetshire, which I have long desired to +possess." + +"People like your writings in the _Bridport Gazette_," declared Daniel. +"Can you give me a few minutes, Uncle Ernest? I won't keep you." + +"My time is always at the service of Henry Ironsyde's boys," answered +the other, "and nothing that I can do for you, or Raymond, is a +trouble." + +"Thank you. I'm grateful. It is about Raymond, as a matter of fact." + +"Ah, I'm not altogether surprised. Come into the study." + +Mr. Churchouse, carrying his new book, led the way and soon he heard of +the younger man's anxieties. But the bookworm increased rather than +allayed them. + +"Do you see anything of Raymond?" began Daniel. + +"A great deal of him. He often comes to supper. But I will be frank. He +does not patronise my simple board for what he can get there, nor does +he find my company very exciting. He wouldn't. The attraction, I'm +afraid, is my housekeeper's daughter, Sabina. Sabina, I may tell you, is +a very attractive girl, Daniel. It has been my pleasure during her youth +to assist at her education, and she is well informed and naturally +clever. She is inclined to be excitable, as many clever people are, but +she is of a charming disposition and has great natural ability. I had +thought she would very likely become a schoolmistress; but in this place +the call of the mills is paramount and, as you know, the young women +generally follow their mothers. So Sabina found the thought of the +spinning attractive and is now, Mr. Best tells me, an amazingly clever +spinner--his very first in fact. And it cannot be denied that Raymond +sees a good deal of her. This is probably not wise, because friendship, +at their tender ages, will often run into emotion, and, naturally +flattered by his ingenuous attentions, Sabina might permit herself to +spin dreams and so lessen her activities as a spinner of yarn. I say she +might. These things mean more to a girl than a boy." + +"What can I do about it? I was going to ask you to talk sense to +Raymond." + +"With all the will, I am not the man, I fear. Sense varies so much from +the standpoint of the observer, my dear Daniel. You, for example, having +an old head on young shoulders, would find yourself in agreement with my +sentiments; Raymond, having a young and rather empty head on his +magnificent shoulders, would not. I take the situation to be this. +Raymond's life has been suddenly changed and his prodigious physical +activities reduced. He bursts with life. He is more alive than any youth +I have ever known. Now all this exuberance of nature must have an +outlet, and what more natural than that, in the presence of such an +attractive young woman, the sex instinct should begin to assert itself?" + +"You don't mean he is in love, or anything like that?" + +"That is just exactly what I do mean," answered Mr. Churchouse. + +"I thought he probably liked to chatter to them all, and hear his own +voice, and talk rubbish about what he'll do for them in the future." + +"He has nebulous ideas about wages and so on; but women are quicker than +men, and probably they understand perfectly well that he doesn't know +what he's talking about so far as that goes. How would it be if you took +him into the office at Bridport, where he would be more under your eye?" + +"He must learn the business first and nobody can teach him like Best." + +"Then I advise that you talk to him yourself. Don't let the fact that +you are only a year and three months older than Raymond make you too +tolerant. You are really ten, or twenty, years older than he is in +certain directions, and you must lecture him accordingly. Be firm; be +decisive. Explain to him that life is real and that he must approach it +with the same degree of earnestness and self-discipline as he devotes to +running and playing games and the like. I feel sure you will carry great +weight. He is far from being a fool. In fact he is a very intelligent +young man with excellent brains, and if he would devote them to the +business, you would soon find him your right hand. The machinery does +honestly interest him. But you must make it a personal thing. He must +study political economy and the value of labour and its relations to +capital and the market value of dry spun yarns. These vague ideas to +better the lot of the working classes are wholly admirable and speak of +a good heart. But you must get him to listen to reason and the laws of +supply and demand and so forth." + +"What shall I say about the girls?" + +"It is not so much the girls as the girl. If he had manifested a general +interest in them, you need have said nothing; but, with the purest good +will to Raymond and a great personal affection for Sabina, I do feel +that this friendship is not desirable. Don't think I am cynical and +worldly and take too low a view of human nature--far from it, my dear +boy. Nothing would ever make me take a low view of human nature. But one +has not lived for sixty years with one's eyes shut. Unhappy things occur +and Nature is especially dangerous when you find her busy with such +natural creatures as your brother and Sabina. A word to the wise. I +would speak, but you will do so with far greater weight." + +"I hate preaching and making Raymond think I'm a prig and all that sort +of thing. It only hardens him against me." + +"He knows better. At any rate try persuasion. He has a remarkably good +temper and a child could lead him. In fact a child sometimes does. He'd +do anything for Waldron's little girl. Just say you admire and share his +ambitions for the welfare of the workers. Hint at supply and demand; +then explain that all must go according to fixed laws, and amelioration +is a question of time and combination, and so on. Then tackle him +fearlessly about Sabina and appeal to his highest instincts. I, too, in +my diplomatic way will approach him with modern instances. Unfortunately +it is only too easy to find modern instances of what romance may end in. +And to say that modern instances are exceedingly like ancient ones, is +merely to say, that human nature doesn't change." + +Fired by this advice, Daniel went straight to the works, and it was +about eleven o'clock in the day when he entered his brother's office +above the Mill--to find it empty. + +Descending to the main shop, he discovered Raymond showing a visitor +round the machines. Little Estelle Waldron was paying her first visit to +the spinners and, delighted at the distraction, Raymond, on whose +invitation she had come, displayed all the operation of turning flax and +hemp into yarn. He aired his knowledge, but it was incomplete and he +referred constantly to the operators from stage to stage. + +Round-eyed and attentive, Estelle poured her whole heart and soul into +the business. She showed a quick perception and asked questions that +interested the girls. Some, indeed, they could not answer. Estelle's +mind approached their work from a new angle and saw in it mysteries and +points calling for solution that had never challenged them. Neither had +her problems much struck Raymond, but he saw their force when she raised +them and pronounced them most important. + +"Why, that's fundamental, really," he said, "and yet, be shot, if I +ever thought of it! Only Best will know and I shouldn't be surprised if +he doesn't." + +They stood at the First Drawing Frame when Daniel appeared. They had +followed the flat ribbon of sliver from the Carding Machine. At the +Drawing Frame six ribbons from the Carder were all brought together into +one ribbon and so gained in quality, while losing more impurities during +a second severe process of combing out. + +"And even now it's not ready for spinning," explained Raymond. "Now it +goes on to the Second Drawing Frame, and four of these ribbons from the +First Drawer are brought together into one ribbon again. So you see that +no less than twenty-four ribbons from the Carder are brought together to +make stuff good enough to spin." + +"What do the Drawing Frames do to it?" asked Estelle; "it looks just the +same." + +"Blessed if I know," confessed Raymond. "What do they do to it, Mrs. +Chick?" + +A venerable old woman, whose simple task was to wind away the flowing +sliver into cans, made answer. She was clad in a dun overall and had a +dim scarlet cap of worsted drawn over her white hair. The remains of +beauty homed in her brown and wrinkled face; her grey eyes were gentle, +and her expression wistful and kindly. + +"The Drawing Heads level the 'sliver,' and true it, and make it good," +she said. "All the rubbish is dragged out on the teeth and now, though +it seems thinner and weaker, it isn't really. Now it goes to the Roving +Frame and that makes it still better and ready for the spinners." + +Then came Daniel, and Raymond, leaving Estelle with Mrs. Chick, departed +at his brother's wish. The younger anticipated trouble and began to +excuse himself. + +"Waldron's so jolly friendly that I thought you wouldn't mind if I +showed his little girl round the works. She's tremendously clever and +intelligent." + +"Of course I don't mind. That's nothing, but I want to speak to you on +the general question. I do wish, Raymond, you'd be more dignified." + +"Dignified! Me? Good Lord!" + +"Well, if you don't like that word, say 'self-respecting.' You might +take longer views and look ahead." + +"You may bet your boots I do that, Dan. This life isn't so delightful +that I am content to live in the present hour, I assure you. I look +ahead all right." + +"I mean look ahead for the sake of the business, not for your own sake. +I don't want to preach, or any nonsense of that kind; but there's nobody +else to speak, so I must. The point is that you don't see in the least +what you are doing here. In the future my idea was--and yours, too, I +suppose--that you came into the business as joint partner with me in +everything." + +"Jolly sporting of you, Dan." + +"But that being so, can't you see you ought to support me in +everything?" + +"I do." + +"No, you don't. You're not taking the right line in the least, and +what's more, I believe you know it yourself. Don't think I'm selfish +and careless about our people, or indifferent to their needs and rights. +I'm quite as keen about their welfare as you are; but one can't do +everything in a moment. And you're not helping them and only hindering +me by talking a lot of rubbish to them." + +"It isn't rubbish, Dan. I had all the facts from Levi Baggs, the +hackler. He understands the claims of capital and what labour is +entitled to, and all the rest of it." + +"Baggs is a sour, one-sided man and will only give you a biased and +wrong view. If you want to know the truth, you can come into Bridport +and study it. Then you'll see exactly what things are worth, and what we +get paid in open market for our goods. All you do by listening to Levi +is to waste your time and waste his. And then you wander about among the +women talking nonsense. And remember this: they know it's nonsense. +They understand the question very much better than you do, and instead +of respecting you, as they ought to respect a future master, they only +laugh at you behind your back. And what will the result be? Why, when +you come to have a voice in the thing, they'll remind you of all your +big talk. And then you've got to climb down and they'll not respect you, +or take you seriously." + +"All right, old chap--enough said. Only you needn't think the people +wouldn't respect me. I get on jolly well with them as a matter of fact. +And I do look ahead--perhaps further than you do. I certainly wouldn't +promise anything I wouldn't try to perform. In fact, I'm very keen about +them. And I believe if we scrapped all the machinery and got new--" + +"When you've mastered the present machinery, it will be time to talk +about scrapping it," answered Daniel. "People are always shouting out +for new things, and when they get them--and sacrifice a year's profits +very likely in doing so--often the first thing they hear from the +operatives is, that the old machinery was much better. Our father always +liked to see other firms make the experiments." + +"That's the way to get left, if you ask me." + +"I don't ask you," answered the master. "I'm telling you, Raymond; and +you ought to remember that I very well know what I'm talking about and +you don't. You must give me some credit. To question me is to question +our father, for I learned everything from him." + +"But times change. You don't want to be left high and dry in the march +of progress, my dear chap." + +"No--you needn't fear that. If you're young, you're a part of progress; +you belong to it. But you must get a general knowledge of the present +situation in our trade before you can do anything rational in the shape +of progress. I've been left a very fine business with a very honoured +name to keep up, and if I begin trying to run before I can walk, I +should very soon fall down. You must see that." + +Raymond nodded. + +"Yes, that's all right. I'm a learner and I know you can teach me a +lot." + +"If you'd come to me instead of to the mill people." + +"You don't know their side." + +"Much better than you do. I've talked with our father often and often +about it. He was no tyrant and nobody could ever accuse him of +injustice." + +Raymond flashed; but he kept his mouth shut on that theme. The only +bitter quarrels between the brothers had been on the subject of their +father, and the younger knew that the ground was dangerous. At this +moment the last thing he desired was any difference with Daniel. + +"I'll keep it all in mind, Dan. I don't want to do anything to annoy +you, God knows. Is there any more? I must go and look after young +Estelle." + +"Only one thing; and this is purely personal, and so I hope you'll +excuse me. I've just been seeing Uncle Ernest, and nobody wished us +better fortune than he does." + +"He's a good old boy. I've learned a lot about spinning from him." + +"I know. But--look here, Raymond, I do beg of you--I implore of you not +to be too friendly with Sabina Dinnett. You can't think how I should +hate anything like that. It isn't fair--it isn't fair to the woman, or +to me, or to the family. You must see yourself that sort of thing isn't +right. She's a very good girl--our champion spinner Best says; and if +you go distracting her and taking her out of her station, you are doing +her a very cruel turn and upsetting her peace of mind. And the others +will be jealous, of course, and so it will go on. It isn't playing the +game--it really isn't. That's all. I know you're a sportsman and all +that; so I do beg you'll be a sportsman in business too, and take a +proper line and remember your obligations. And if I've said a harsh, or +unfair word, I'm sorry for it; but you know I haven't." + +Seeing that Sabina Dinnett was now in paramount and triumphant +possession of Raymond's mind, he felt thankful that his brother, by +running on over this subject and concluding upon the whole question, had +saved him the necessity for any direct reply. Whether he would have lied +or no concerning Sabina, Raymond did not stop to consider. There is +little doubt that he would. But the need was escaped; and so thankful +did he feel, that he responded to the admonishment in a tone more +complete and with promises more comprehensive than Daniel expected. + +"You're dead right. Of course I know it! I've been a silly fool all +round. But I won't open my mouth so wide in future, Dan. And don't think +I'm wasting my time. I'm working like the devil, really, and learning +everything from the beginning. Best will tell you that's true. He's a +splendid teacher and I'll see more of him in future. And I'll read all +about yarn and get the hang of the markets, and so on." + +"Thank you--you can't say more. And you might come into Bridport +oftener, I think. Aunt Jenny was saying she never sees you now." + +"I will," promised Raymond. "I'm going to dine with you both on my +birthday. I believe she'll be good for fifty quid this year. Father left +her a legacy of a thousand." + +They parted, and Raymond returned to Estelle, who was now watching the +warping, while Daniel went into his foreman's office. + +Estelle was radiant. She had fallen in love with the works. + +"The girls are all so kind and clever," she said. + +"Rather so. I expect you know all about everything now." + +"Hardly anything yet. But you must let me come again. I do want to know +all about it. It is splendidly interesting." + +"Of course, come and go when you like, kiddy." + +"And I'm going to ask some of them to tea with me," declared Estelle. +"They all love flowers, and I'm going to show them our garden and my +pets. I've asked seven of them and two men." + +"Ask me, too." + +She brought out a piece of paper and showed him that she had written +down nine names. + +"And if they like it, they'll tell the others and I shall ask them too," +she said. "Father is always wanting me to spend money, so now I'll spend +some on a beautiful tea." + +Raymond saw the name of Sabina Dinnett. + +"I'll be there to help you," he promised. + +"Nicholas Roberts is the lover of Miss Northover," explained Estelle, +"and Benny Cogle is the lover of Miss Gale. That's why I asked them. I +very nearly went back and asked Mister Baggs to come, because he seems a +silent, sad man; but I was rather frightened of him." + +"Don't ask him; he's an old bear," declared Raymond. + +Thus, forgetting his brother as though Daniel had ceased to exist, he +threw himself into Estelle's enterprise and planned an entertainment +that must at least have rendered the master uneasy. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE PARTY + + +Arthur Waldron did more than love his daughter. He bore to her almost a +superstitious reverence, as for one made of superior flesh and blood. He +held her in some sort a reincarnation of his wife and took no credit for +her cleverness himself. Yet he did not spoil her, for her nature was +proof against that. + +Estelle, though old for her age, could not be called a prig. She +developed an abstract interest in life as her intellect unfolded to +accept its wonders and mysteries, yet she remained young in mind as well +as body, and was always very glad to meet others of her own age. The +mill girls were indeed older than she, but Mr. Waldron's daughter found +their minds as young as her own in such subjects as interested her, +though there were many things hidden from her that life had taught them. + +Her father never doubted Estelle's judgment or crossed her wishes. +Therefore he approved of the proposed party and did his best to make it +a success. Others also were glad to aid Estelle and, to her delight, +Ernest Churchouse, with whom she was in favour, yielded to entreaty and +joined the company on the lawn of North Hill House. Tea was served out +of doors, and to it there came nine workers from the mill, and two of +Mr. Best's own girls, who were friends of Estelle. Nicholas Roberts +arrived with his future wife, Sarah Northover; Sabina Dinnett came with +Nancy Buckler and Sally Groves from the Carding Machine, while Alice +Chick brought old Mrs. Chick; Mercy Gale came too--a fair, florid girl, +who warped the yarn when it was spun. + +Mr. Waldron was not a ladies' man, and after helping with the tea, +served under a big mulberry tree in the garden, he turned his attention +to Mr. Roberts, already known favourably to him as a cricketer, and +Benny Cogle, the engine man. They departed to look at a litter of +puppies and the others perambulated the gardens. Estelle had a plot of +her own, where grew roses, and here, presently, each with a rose at her +breast, the girls sat about on an old stone seat and listened to Mr. +Churchouse discourse on the lore of their trade. + +Some, indeed, were bored by the subject and stole away to play beside a +fountain and lily pond, where the gold fish were tame and crowded to +their hands for food; but others listened and learned surprising facts +that set the thoughtful girls wondering. + +"You mustn't think, you spinners, that you are the last word in +spinning," he said; "no, Alice and Nancy and Sabina, you're not; no more +are those at other mills, who spin in choicer materials than flax and +hemp--I mean the workers in cotton and silk. For the law of things in +general, called evolution, seems to stand still when machinery comes to +increase output and confuse our ideas of quality and quantity. Missis +Chick here will tell you, when she was a spinner and the old rope walks +were not things of the past, that she spun quite as good yarn from the +bundle of tow at her waist as you do from the regulation spinners." + +"And better," said Mrs. Chick. + +"I believe you," declared Ernest, "and before your time the yarn was +better still. For, though some of the best brains in men's heads have +been devoted to the subject, we go backwards instead of forwards, and +things have been done in spinning that I believe will never be done +again. In fact, the further you go back, the better the yarn seems to +have been, and I'm sure I don't know how the laws of evolution can +explain that. The secret is this: machinery, for all its marvellous +improvements, lags far behind the human hand, and the record yarns were +spun in the East, while our forefathers still went about in wolf-skins +and painted their faces blue. You may laugh, but it is so." + +"Tell us about them, Mister Churchouse," begged Estelle. + +"For the moment we needn't go back so far," he said. "I'll remind you +what a girl thirteen years old did in Ireland a hundred years ago. Only +thirteen was Catherine Woods--mark that, Sabina and Alice--but she was a +genius who lived in Dunmore, County Down, and she spun a hank of linen +yarn of such tenuity that it would have taken seven hundred such hanks +to make a pound of yarn." + +He turned to Estelle. + +"Sabina and the other spinners will appreciate this," he said, "but to +explain the marvel of such spider-like spinning, Estelle, I may tell you +that seventeen and a half pounds of Catherine's yarn would have sufficed +to stretch round the equator of the earth. No machine-spun yarn has ever +come within measurable distance of this astounding feat, and I have +never heard of any spinner in Europe or America equalling it; yet even +this has been beaten when we were painting our noses blue." + +"Where?" asked Estelle breathlessly. + +"In the land of all wonders: Egypt. Herodotus tells us of a linen +corselet, presented to the Lacedemonians by King Amasis, each thread of +which commanded admiration, for though very fine, each was twisted of +three hundred and sixty others! And if you decline to believe this--" + +"Oh, Mister Churchouse, we quite believe it I'm sure, sir, if you say +so," interrupted Mrs. Chick. + +"Well, a later authority, Sir Gardiner Wilkinson, tells us of equal +wonders. The linen which he unwound from Egyptian mummies has proved as +delicate as silk, and equal, if not superior, to our best cambrics. Five +hundred and forty threads went to the warp and a hundred and ten to the +weft; and I'm sure a modern weaver would wonder how they could produce +quills fine enough for weaving such yarn through." + +"There's nothing new under the sun, seemingly," said old Mrs. Chick. + +"Indeed there isn't, my dear, and so, perhaps, in the time to come, we +shall spin again as well as the Egyptians five or six thousand years +ago," declared Ernest. + +"And even then the spiders will always beat us I expect," said Estelle. + +"True--true, child; nor has man learned the secret, of the caterpillar's +silken spinning. Talking of caterpillars, you may, or may not, have +observed--" + +It was at this point that Raymond, behind the speaker's back, beckoned +Sabina, and presently, as Mr. Churchouse began to expatiate on Nature's +spinning, she slipped away. The garden was large and held many winding +paths and secluded nooks. Thus the lovers were able to hide themselves +from other eyes and amuse themselves with their own conversation. + +Sabina praised Estelle. + +"She's a dear little lady and ever so clever, I'm sure." + +"So she is, and yet she loses a lot. Though her father's such a great +sportsman, she doesn't care a button about it. Wouldn't ride on a pony +even." + +"I can very well understand that. Nor would I if I had the chance." + +"You're different, Sabina. You've not been brought up in a sporting +family. All the same you'd ride jolly well, because you've got nerve +enough for anything and a perfect figure for riding. You'd look fairly +lovely on horseback." + +"Whatever will you say next?" + +"I often wonder myself," he answered. "This much I'll say any way: it's +meat and drink to me to be walking here with you. I only wish I was +clever and could really amuse you and make you want to see me, +sometimes. But the things I understand, of course, bore you to tears." + +"You know very well that isn't so," she said. "You've told me heaps of +things well worth knowing--things I should never have heard of but for +you. And--and I'm sure I'm very proud of your friendship." + +"Good Lord! It's the other way about. Thanks to Mister Churchouse and +your own wits, you are fearfully well read, and your cleverness fairly +staggers me. Just to hear you talk is all I want--at least that isn't +all. Of course, it is a great score for an everyday sort of chap like me +to have interested you." + +Sabina did not answer and after a silence which drew out into +awkwardness, she made some remark on the flowers. But Raymond was not +interested about the flowers. He had looked forward to this occasion as +an opportunity of exceptional value and now strove to improve the +shining hour. + +"You know I'm a most unlucky beggar really, Sabina. You mightn't think +it, but I am. You see me cheerful, and joking and trying to make things +pleasant for us all at the works; but sometimes, if you could see me +tramping alone over North Hill, or walking on the beach and looking at +the seagulls, you'd be sorry for me." + +"Of course, I'd be sorry for you--if there was anything to be sorry +for." + +"Look at it. An open-air man brought up to think my father would leave +me all right, and then cut off with nothing and forced to come here and +stew and toil and wear myself out struggling with a most difficult +business--difficult to me, any way." + +"I'm sure you're mastering it as quickly as possible." + +"But the effort. And my muscles are shrinking and I'm losing weight. +But, of course, that's nothing to anybody but myself. And then, another +side: I want to think of you people first and raise your salaries and +so on--especially yours, for you ought to have pounds where you have +shillings. And my wishes to do proper things, in the line of modern +progress and all that, are turned down by my brother. Here am I thinking +about you and worrying and knowing it's all wrong--and there's nobody on +my side--not a damned person. And it makes me fairly mad." + +"I'm sure it's splendid of you to look at the Mill in such a high-minded +way," declared Sabina. "And now you've told me, I shall understand +what's in your mind. I'm sure I thank you for the thought at any rate." + +"If you'd only be my friend," he said. + +"It would be a great honour for a girl--just a spinner--to be that." + +"The honour is for me. You've got such tons of mind, Sabina. You +understand all the economical side, and so on." + +"A thing is only worth what it will fetch, I'm afraid." + +"That's the point. If you would help me, we would go into it and +presently, when I'm a partner, we could bring out a scheme; and then +you'd know you'd been instrumental in raising the tone of the whole +works. And probably, if we set a good example, other works would raise +their tone, too, and gradually the workers would find the whole scheme +of things changing, to their advantage." + +Sabina regarded this majestic vision with due reverence. She praised his +ideals and honestly believed him a hero. + +They discussed the subject while the dusk came down and he prophesied +great things. + +"We shall live to see it," he assured her, "and it may be largely thanks +to you. And when you have a home of your own and--and--" + +It was then that she became conscious of his very near presence and the +dying light. + +"They'll all have gone, and so must I," she said, "and I hope you'll +thank Miss Waldron dearly for her nice party." + +"This is only the first; she'll give dozens more now that this has been +such a success. She loves the Mill. If you come this way I can let you +out by the bottom gate--by the bamboo garden. You've bucked me up like +anything--you always do. You're the best thing in my life, Sabina. Oh, +if I was anything to you--if--but of course it's all one way." + +His voice shook a little. He burned to put his arms round her, and +Nature shouted so loud in his humming ears that he hardly heard her +answer. For she echoed his emotion. + +"What can I say to that? You're so kind--you don't know how kind. You +can't guess what such friendship means to a girl like me. It's something +that doesn't come into our lives very often. I'm only wondering what the +world will be like when you've gone again." + +"I shan't go--I'm never going. Never, Sabina. I--I couldn't live without +you. Kiss me, for God's sake. I must kiss you--I must--or I shall go +mad." + +His arms were round her and he felt her hot cheek against his. They were +young in love and dared not look into each other's eyes. But she kissed +him back, and then, as he released her, she ran away, slipped through +the wicket, where they stood and hastened off by the lane to Bridetown. +He glowed at her touch and panted at his triumph. She had not rebuked +him, but let him see that she loved him and kissed him for his kiss. He +did not attempt to follow her then but turned full of glory. Here was a +thing that dwarfed every interest of life and made life itself a +triviality by comparison. She loved him; he had won her; nothing else +that would be, or had been, in the whole world mattered beside such a +triumph. His head had touched the stars. + +And he felt amazingly grateful to her. His thoughts for the moment were +full of chivalry. Her life must be translated to higher terms and new +values. She should have the best that the world could offer, and he +would win it for her. Her trust was so pathetic and beautiful. To be +trusted by her made him feel a finer thing and more important to the +cosmic scheme. + +In itself this was a notable sensation and an addition of power, for +nobody had ever trusted him until now. And here was a radiant creature, +the most beautiful in the world, who trusted him with herself. His love +brought a sense of splendour; her love brought a sense of strength. + +He swung back to the house feeling in him such mastery as might bend the +whole earth to his purposes, take Leviathan with a hook, and hang the +constellations in new signs upon the void of heaven. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WORK + + +Sarah Northover and another young woman were tending the Spread Board. +To this came the 'long line' from the hackler--those strides of amber +hemp and lint-white flax that Mr. Baggs prepared in the hackler's shop. +The Spread Board worked upon the long line as the Carder on the tow. +Over its endless leathern platform, or spreading carriage, the long +fibre was drawn into the toothed gills of the machine and converted into +sliver for the Drawing Frames. + +With swift and rhythmic flinging apart of her arms over her head, Sarah +separated the stricks into three and laid them overlapping on the +carriage. The ribbon thus created was never-ending and wound away into +the torture chambers of wheels and teeth within, while from the rear of +the Spreader trickled out the new-created sliver. Great scales hung +beside Sarah and from time to time she weighed fresh loads of long line +and recorded the amount. + +Her arms flashed upwards, the divided stricks came down to be laid in +rotation on the running carriage, and ceaselessly she and her fellow +worker chattered despite the din around them. + +"My Aunt Nelly's coming to see me this morning," said Sarah. "She's +driving over to talk to Mister Waldron about his apple orchard and have +a look round. Last year she bought the whole orchard for cider; and if +she thinks well of it, she'll do the same this year." + +"I wonder you stop here," answered the other girl, "when you might go to +your aunt and work in her public-house. I'd a long sight sooner be there +than here." + +"You wouldn't if you was engaged to Mister Roberts," answered Sarah. +"Of course seeing him every day makes all the difference. And as to +work, there's nothing in it, for everybody's got to work at 'The Seven +Stars,' I can tell you, and the work's never done there." + +"It's the company I should like," declared the other. "I'd give a lot to +see new people every day. In a public they come and go, before you've +got time to be sick of the sight of 'em. But here, you see the same +people and hear the same voices every day of your blessed life; and +sometimes it makes me feel right down wicked." + +"It's narrowing to the mind I dare say, unless you've got a man like +Mister Roberts with a lot of general ideas," admitted Sarah. "But you +know very well for that matter you could have a man to-morrow. Benny +Cogle's mate is daft for you." + +The other sniffed. + +"It's very certain he ain't got no general ideas, beyond the steam +engine. He can only talk about the water wheel to-day and the boilers +to-morrow. When I find a chap, he'll have to know a powerful lot more +about life than that chap--and shave himself oftener also." + +"He'd shave every day if you took him, same as Mister Roberts does," +said Sarah. + +Elsewhere Mr. Best was starting a run of the Gill Spinner, a machine +which took sliver straight from the Drawing Frames and spun it into a +large coarse yarn. A novice watched him get the great machine to work, +make all ready and then, at a touch, connect it with the power and set +it crashing and roaring. Its voice was distinctive and might be heard by +a practised ear above the prevailing thunder. + +Then came Mrs. Nelly Northover to this unfamiliar scene, peeped in at a +door or two and failed to see Sarah, who laboured at the other end of +the Mill. But the hostess of 'The Seven Stars' knew Sabina Dinnett and +now shook hands with her and then stood and watched in bewildered +admiration before a big frame of a hundred spindles. + +Sabina was spinning with a heart very full of happiness. On the previous +evening she had promised to wed Raymond Ironsyde, and her thoughts +to-day were winged with over-mastering joy. For life had turned into a +glorious triumph; the man who had asked her to marry him was not only a +gentleman, but far above the power of any wrong-doing. She knew in the +very secret places of her soul, that he could never act away from his +honest and noble character; that he was a knight above reproach, +incapable of wronging any living thing. There was an element of risk for +most girls who fell in love with those better born than themselves; but +none for her. Other men might deceive and abuse, and suffer outer +influences to chill their love, when the secret of it became known; but +not this man. His rare nature had been revealed to her; he desired the +welfare of all people; he was moved with nothing but the purest +principles and loftiest feeling. He would not willingly have brought +sorrow to a child. And she had won this unique spirit! He loved her with +the love that only such a man was great enough to show; and she echoed +it and knew that such a passion must be unchanging, everlasting, built +not only to make their united lives unspeakably happy and gloriously +content, but to run over also into the lives of others, less blessed, +and leave the sad world happier for their happiness. There was not a +cloud in the sky of her romance and she shared with him for the moment +the joy of secrecy. But that would not be long. They had determined to +hug their delicious knowledge for a little while and then proclaim the +great tidings to the world. + +So she followed the old road, along which her sisters had tramped from +immemorial time, and would still tramp through the generations to come, +when her journey was ended and the wonderful country of man's love +explored--its oases visited, its antres endured. + +Now Sabina played priestess to the Spinning Machine--a monster reared +above her, stupendous and insatiable. + +Along the summit of the Spinning Frame, just within reach of tall +Sabina's uplifted hand, there perched a row of reels from which the +finished material descended through series of rollers. The retaining +roller aloft gave it to the steel delivery roller which drew the thin, +sad-looking stuff with increased speed downward. And here at its moment +of most shivering tenuity, when the perfected and purified material +seemed reduced to an extremity of weakness, came the magic change. +Unseen in the whirring complexity of the spinner, it received the +momentous gift that translates fibre to yarn. In a moment it changed +from stuff a baby's finger could break to thread capable of supporting +fifteen pounds of pressure. For now came the twist--that word of mighty +significance--and the tiny thread of new-born yarn descended to the +spindle, vanished in the whirl of the flier and reappeared, an +accomplished miracle, winding on the bobbin beneath. + +Upon the spindle revolved the flier--a fork of steel with guide eye at +one leg of the fork--and through the guide eye came the twisted yarn to +wind on the bobbin below. There, as the bobbin frame rose and fell, the +thread was perfectly delivered to the reel and coiled off layer by layer +upon it. + +Mrs. Northover stared to see the nature of a Spinner's duties and the +ease with which she controlled the great, pulsing, roaring frame of a +hundred spindles. Sabina's eyes were everywhere; her hands were never +still; her feet seemed to dance a measure to the thunder of the Frame. +Now she marked a roving reel aloft that was running out, and in a moment +she had broken the sliver, swept away the empty reel and hung up a full +one. Then she drew the new sliver down to the point of the break and, in +a moment, the two merged and the thread ran on. Now her fingers touched +the spindles, as a musician touches the keys, and at a moment's pressure +the machine obeyed and the yarn flew on its way obedient. Now she +cleared a snarl, or catch, where a spindle appeared to have run amuck or +created hopeless confusion; now she readjusted the weights that kept a +drag on the humming bobbins. Her twinkling hands touched and calmed and +fed the monster. She knew its whims, corrected its errors, brought to +her insensate machine the complement of brain that made it trustworthy. +And when the bobbins were all full, she hastened along the Frame, turned +off the driving power and silenced the huge activity in a moment. Then, +like lightning, she cut her hundred threads and lifted the bobbins from +their spindles until she had a pile upon her shoulder. In a marvellously +short time she had doffed the bobbins and set up a hundred empty ones. +Then the cut threads were readjusted, the power turned on and all was +motion again. + +Sabina had never calculated her labours, until Raymond took the trouble +to do so; then she learned a fact that astonished her. He found that it +took a hundred and fifty minutes to spin one thousand and fifty yards; +and as each spindle spun two and a half miles in ten hours, her daily +accomplishment was two hundred and fifty miles of yarn. + +"You spin from seventy to eighty thousand miles of single yarn a year," +he told her, and the fact expressed in these terms amazed her and her +sister spinners. + +Now Nelly Northover praised the performance. + +"To think that you slips of girls can do anything so wonderful!" she +said. "We talk of the spinners of Bridport as if they were nobodies; but +upon my conscience, Sabina, I never will again. I've always thought I +was a pretty busy woman; but I'd drop to the earth I'm sure after an +hour of your job, let alone ten hours." + +Sabina laughed. + +"It's use, Mrs. Northover. Some take to it like a duck to water. I did +for one. But some never do. If you come to the Frame frightened, you +never make a spinner. They're like humans, the Spinning Frames; if they +think you're afraid of them, they'll always bully you, but if you show +them you're mistress, it's all right. They have their moods and whims, +just as we have. They vary, and you never know how the day will go. +Sometimes everything runs smoothly; sometimes nothing does. Some days +you're as fresh at the end as the beginning; some days you're dog-tired +and worn out after a proper fight." + +"There's something hungry and cruel and wicked about 'em to my eye," +declared Mrs. Northover. + +"We're oftener in fault than the Frames, however. Sometimes the +spinner's to blame herself--she may be out of sorts and heavy-handed and +slow on her feet and can't put up her ends right, or do anything right; +and often it's the fault of the other girls and the 'rove' comes to the +spinner rough; and often, again, it's just luck--good or bad. If the +machine always ran perfect, there'd be nothing to do. But you've got +to use your wits from the time it starts to the time it stops." + +"The creature would best me every time," said the visitor, regarding +Sabina's machine with suspicion and something akin to dislike. + +The spinner stopped a fouled spindle and rubbed her hand. + +"Sometimes the yarn's always snarling and your drag weights are always +burning off and the stuff is full of kinks and the sliver's badly pieced +up--that's the drawing minder's fault--and a bad drawing minder means +work for me. Your niece, Sarah, is a very good drawing minder, Mrs. +Northover. Then you'll get ballooning, when the thread flies round above +the flier, and that means too little strain on the jamb and the bobbin +has got to be tempered. And often it's too hot, or else too cold, for +hemp and flax must have their proper temperature. But to-day my machine +is as good and kind as a nice child, that only asks to be fed and won't +quarrel with anybody." + +Mrs. Northover, however, saw nothing to praise, for Sabina's speech had +been broken a dozen times. + +"If that's what you call working kindly, I'd like to see the wretch in a +nasty mood," she said. "I lay you want to slap it sometimes." + +Sabina was mending a drag that had burned off. The drags were heavy +weights hanging from strings that pressed upon the side of the bobbins +and controlled their speed. The friction often burned these cords +through and the weights had to be lifted and retied again and again. + +"We want a clever invention to put this right," she said. "A lot of good +time's wasted with the weights. Nobody's thought upon the right thing +yet." + +"I'm properly dazed," confessed Nelly Northover. "You live and learn +without a doubt--nothing's so true as that." + +Her niece had seen her and approached, as the machinery began to still +for the dinner-hour. + +"Morning, Sarah. Can you do such wonders as Miss Dinnett?" she asked. + +"No, Aunt Nelly. I'm a spreader minder. But I'll be a spinner some day, +if Mr. Roberts likes for me to stop, here after I'm married." + +"Sarah would soon learn to spin," declared Sabina. + +Then she turned to bid Raymond Ironsyde good morning. His brother was +away from Bridport on a tour with one of his travellers, that he might +become acquainted with many of his more important customers. Raymond, +therefore, felt safe and was wasting a good deal of his time. He had +brought a basket of fruit from North Hill House--a present from +Estelle--and he began to dispense plums and pears as the women streamed +away to dinner. + +They knew him very well now and treated him with varying degrees of +familiarity. Early doubts had vanished, and they took him as a good +natured, rather 'soft' young man, who meant well and was friendly and +harmless. The ill-educated are always suspicious, and Levi Baggs +declared from the first that Raymond was nothing better than his +brother's spy, placed here for a time to inquire into the ambitions and +ideas of the workers and so help the firm to combat the lawful demands +of those whom they employed; but this theory was long exploded save in +the mind of Mr. Baggs himself. The people of Bridetown Mill held Raymond +on their side, and all were secretly interested to know what would +spring of his frank friendship with Sabina. + +In serious moments Raymond felt uneasy at the relations he had +established with the workers, and Mr. Best did not hesitate to warn +him again and again that discipline was ill served by such easy terms +between employer and employed; but his moments of perspicuity were rare, +for now his mind and soul were poured into one thought and one only. He +was riotously happy in his love affair and could not pretend to his +fellow creatures anything he did not feel. Always amiable and +accessible, his romance made him still more so, and he was +constitutionally unable at this moment to take a serious view of +anything or anybody. + +One ray of hope, however, Mr. Best recognised: Raymond did show an +honest and genuine interest in the machines. He had told the foreman +that he believed the great problem lay there, and where machinery was +concerned he could be exceedingly intelligent and rational. This trait +in him had a bearing on the future and, in time to come, John Best +remembered its inception and perceived how it had developed. + +Now, his fruit dispensed, Raymond talked with Sabina about the Spinning +Frame and instructed Mrs. Northover, who was an acquaintance of his, in +its mysteries. + +"These are old-fashioned frames," he declared, "and I shan't rest till +I've turned them out of the works and got the latest and best. I'm all +for the new things, because they help the workers and give good results. +In fact, I tell my brother that he's behind the times. That's the +advantage of coming to a subject fresh, with your mind unprejudiced. +Daniel's all bound up in the past and, of course, everything my father +did must be right; but I know better. You have to move with the times, +and if you don't you'll get left." + +"That's true enough, Mr. Ironsyde, whatever your business may be," +answered Mrs. Northover. + +"Of course--look at 'The Seven Stars.' You're always up to date, and why +should my spinners--I call them mine--why should they have to spin on +machines that come out of the ark, when, by spending a few thousand, +they could have the latest?" + +"You've got to balance cost against value," answered the innkeeper. "It +don't do to dash at things. One likes for the new to be tried on its +merits first, and then, if it proves all that's claimed for it, you go +in and keep abreast of the times according; but the old will often be +found as good as the new; and so Mr. Daniel no doubt looks before he +leaps." + +"That's cowardly in my opinion," replied Raymond. "You must take the +chances. Of course if you're frightened to back your judgment, then that +shows you're a second class man with a second class sort of mind; but if +you believe in yourself, as everybody does who is any good, then you go +ahead, and if you come a purler now and again, that's nothing, because +you get it back in other ways. I'm not frightened to chance my luck, am +I, Sabina?" + +"Never was such a brave one, I'm sure," she said, conscious of their +secret. + +"If you haven't got nerve, you're no good," summed up the young man; +"and if you have got nerve, then use it and break out of the beaten +track and welcome your luck and court a few adventures for your soul's +sake." + +"All very well for you men," said Mrs. Northover. "You can have +adventures and no great harm done; but us women, if we try for +adventures, we come to a bad end." + +"Nobody's more adventurous than you," answered Raymond. "Look at your +gardens and your teas for a bob ahead. Wasn't that an adventure--to give +a better tea than anybody in Bridport?" + +"I believe women have quite as many adventures as men," declared Sarah +Northover, who was waiting for her aunt, "only we're quieter about 'em." + +"We've got to be," answered Mrs. Northover. "Now come on to your +mother's, Sarah. There's Mr. Roberts waiting for us outside." + +In the silent and empty mill Raymond dawdled for a few minutes with +Sabina, talked love and won a caress. Then she put on her sunbonnet and +he walked with her to the door of her home, left her at 'The Magnolias' +and went his way with Estelle's fruit basket. + +A great expedition had been planned by the lovers for a forthcoming +public holiday. They were going to rise in the dawn, before the rest of +the world was awake, and tramp out through West Haven to Golden Cap--the +supreme eminence of the south coast, that towers with bright, +sponge-coloured precipices above the sea, nigh Lyme. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE OLD STORE-HOUSE + + +Through a misty morning, made silver bright by the risen sun, Sabina and +Raymond started for their August holiday. They left Bridetown, passed +through a white fog on the water-meadows and presently climbed to the +cliffs and pursued their way westward. Now the sun was over the sea and +the Channel gleamed and flashed under a wakening, westerly breeze. + +To West Haven they came, where the cliffs break and the rivers from +Bridport flow through sluices into the little harbour. + +Among the ancient, weather-worn buildings standing here with their feet +in the sand drifts, was one specially picturesque. A long and lofty mass +it presented, and a hundred years of storm and salt-laden winds had +toned it to rich colour and fretted its roof and walls with countless +stains. It was a store, three stories high, used of old time for +merchandise, but now sunk to rougher uses. In its great open court, +facing north, were piled thousands of tons of winnowed sand; its vaults +were barred and empty; its glass windows were shattered; rust had eaten +away its metal work and rot reduced its doors and sashes to powder. Rich +red and auburn was its face, with worn courses of brickwork like wounds +gashed upon it. A staircase of stone rose against one outer wall, and +aloft, in the chambers approached thereby, was laid up a load of sweet +smelling, deal planks brought by a Norway schooner. Here too, were all +manner of strange little chambers, some full of old nettings, others +littered with the marine stores of the fishermen, who used the ruin for +their gear. The place was rat-haunted and full of strange holes and +corners. Even by day, with the frank sunshine breaking through boarded +windows and broken roof, it spoke of incident and adventure; by night it +was eloquent of the past--of smugglers, of lawless deeds, of Napoleonic +spies. + +Raymond and Sabina stood and admired the old store. To her it was +something new, for her activities never brought her to West Haven; but +he had been familiar with it from childhood, when, with his brother, he +had spent school holidays at West Haven, caught prawns from the pier, +gone sailing with the fisher folk, and spent many a wet day in the old +store-house. + +He smiled upon it now, told her of his childish adventures and took her +in to see an ancient chamber where he and Daniel had often played their +games. + +"Our nurse used to call it a 'cubby hole,'" he said. "And she was +always; jolly thankful when she could pilot us in here from the dangers +of the cliffs and the old pier, or the boats in the harbour. The place +is just the same--only shrunk. The plaster from the walls is all +mouldering away, or you might see the pictures we used to draw upon them +with paint from the fishermen's paint pots. Down below they bring the +sand and grade it for the builders. They've carted away millions of tons +of sand from the foreshore in the last fifty years and will cart away +millions more, no doubt, for the sea always renews it." + +She wandered with him and listened half-dreaming. The air for them was +electric with their love and they yearned for each other. + +"I wish we could spend the whole blessed day in this little den +together," he said suddenly putting his arms round her; and that brought +her to some sense of reality, but none of danger. Not a tremor of peril +in his company had she ever felt, for did not perfect love cast out +fear, and why should a woman hesitate to trust herself with one, to +her, the most precious in the world? + +He suggested dawdling awhile; but she would not. + +"We are to eat our breakfast at Eype Beach," she reminded him, "and +that's a mile or two yet." + +So they went on their way again, breasted the grassy cliffs westward of +the haven, admired the fog bank touched with gold that hung over the +river flats, praised Bridport wakening under its leafy woods, marked the +herons on the river mud in the valley and the sparrow-hawk poised aloft +above the downs. She took his arm up the hill and, like birds +themselves, they went lightly together, strong, lissome, radiant in +health and youth and the joy of a shared worship that made all things +sweet. + +They talked of the great day when the world was to know their secret. +The secret itself proved so attractive to both that they agreed to keep +it a little longer. Their shared knowledge proved amusing and each told +the other of the warnings and advice and fears imparted by careful +friends of both sexes, who knew not the splendid truth. + +How small the wisdom of the wise appeared--how peddling and foolish and +mean--contrasted with their superb trust. How sordid were the ways of +the world, its fears and suspicions, from the vantage point to which +they had climbed. Material things even suggested this thought to +Raymond, and when before noon, they stood on the green crown of Golden +Cap, with the earth and sea spread out around them in mighty harmonies +of blue and green, he told Sabina so. + +"We ought to be perched on a place like this," he said, "because we are +to the rest of the world, in mind and in happiness, as we are here in +body too." + +"Only the sea gulls can go higher, and I always feel they're more like +spirits than birds," she answered. + +"I've got no use for spirits," he told her. "The splendid thing about us +is that we're flesh and blood and spirit too. That's the really +magnificent combination for happy creatures. A spirit at best can only +be an unfinished thing. People make such a fuss about escaping from the +flesh. What the deuce do you want to escape from your flesh for, if it's +healthy and tough and fine?" + +"When they get old, they feel like that." + +"Let the old comfort the old then," he said. "I'm proud of my flesh and +bones, and so are you, and so we ought to be; and if I had to give them +up and die, I should hate it. And if I found myself in another world, a +poor shivering idea and nothing else, without flesh and bones to cover +me, or clothes to cover them, I should feel ashamed of myself. And they +might call it Paradise as much as they liked, but it would be Hades to +me. Of course many of the ghosts would pretend that they liked it; but I +bet none would really--so jolly undignified to be nothing but an idea." + +She laughed. + +"That's just what I feel too; and of course it's utterly wrong of us," +she said. "It shows we have got a lot to learn. We only feel like this +because we're young. Perhaps young ghosts begin like that; but I expect +they soon get past it." + +"I should never want to get past it," he said. + +He rolled over on the grass and played with her hand. + +"How could you love and cuddle a ghost?" + +"No doubt you could love it. I don't suppose you could cuddle it. You +wouldn't want to." + +"No--that's true, Sabina. If this cliff carried away this moment, and we +were both smashed to pulp and arrived together in another world without +any clothes and both horribly down on our luck--but it's too ghastly a +picture. I should howl all through eternity--to think what I'd missed." + +They talked nonsense, played with their thoughts and came nearer and +nearer together. One tremendous and masterful impulse drew them on--a +raging hunger and thirst on his part and something not widely different +on hers. Again and again they caught themselves in each other's arms, +then broke off, grew serious and strove to steady the trend of their +desires. + +Golden Cap was a lonely spot and few visited it that day. Once a +middle-aged man and woman surprised them where they sat behind a rock +near the edge of the great precipices. The man had grown warm and mopped +his face and let the wind cool it. + +He was ugly, clumsily built, and displayed large calves in +knickerbockers and a hot, bald head. + +"How hideous human beings can be," said Raymond after they had gone. + +"He wasn't hideous in his wife's eyes, I expect." + +"Middle-age is mercifully blind no doubt to its own horrors," he said. +"You can respect and even admire old age, like other ruins, if it's +picturesque, but middle-age is deadly always." + +He smoked and they dawdled the hours away until Sabina declared it was +tea time. Then they sought a little inn at Chidcock and spent an hour +there. + +The weather changed as the sun went westerly; the wind sank to a sigh +and brought with it rain clouds. But they were unconscious of such +accidents. Sabina longed for the cliffs again, so they turned homeward +by Seaton and Thorncombe Beacon and Eype Mouth. Their talk ran upon +marriage and Raymond swore that he could not wait long, while she urged +the importance to him of so doing. + +"'Twould shake your brother badly if you wed yet awhile, be sure of +that," she said. "He would say that you weren't thinking of the work, +and it might tempt him to change his mind about making you a partner." + +"Oh damn him. Don't talk about him--or work either. I shall never want +to work again, or think of work, or anything else on earth +till--till--What does he matter anyway--or his ideas? It's a free +country and a man has the right to plan his life his own way. If he +wants to get the best out of me, he'd better give me five hundred a +year to-morrow and tell me to marry you." + +"We don't want five hundred. That's a fortune. I'm a good manager and +know very well how far money can go. With your money and mine." + +"Yours? You won't have any--except mine. You'll stop work then and +live--not at Bridetown anyway." + +"I was forgetting. It will be funny not to spin." + +"You'll spin my happiness and my life and my fate and my children. +You'll have plenty of spinning. I'll spin for you and you'll spin for +me." + +"You darling boy! I know you'll spin for me." + +"Work! What's the good of working for yourself?" he asked. "Who the +devil cares about himself? It's because I don't care a button for myself +that I haven't bothered about the Mill. But when it comes to you--! +You're worth working for! I haven't begun to work yet. I'll surprise +Daniel presently and everybody else, when I fairly get into my stride. I +didn't ask for it and I didn't want it; but as I've got to work, I will +work--for you. And you'll live to see that my brother and his ways and +plans and small outlook are all nothing to the way I shall grasp the +business. And he'll see, too, when I get the lead by sheer better +understanding. And that won't be my work, Sabina. It will be yours. +Nothing's worth too much toil for you. And if you couldn't inspire a man +to wonderful things, then no woman could." + +This fit of exaltation passed and the craving for her dominated him +again and took psychological shape. He grew moody and abstracted. His +voice had a new note in it to her ear. He was fighting with himself and +did not guess what was in her mind, or how unconsciously it echoed to +his. + +At dusk the rain came and they ran before a sudden storm down the green +hills back to West Haven. The place already sank into night and a lamp +or two twinkled through the grey. It was past eight o'clock and Raymond +decided for dinner. + +"We'll go to the 'Brit Arms,'" he said, "and feed and get dry. The rain +won't last." + +"I told mother I should be home by nine." + +"Well, you told her wrong. D'you think I'm going to chuck away an hour +of this day for a thousand mothers?" + +When they sauntered out into the night again at ten o'clock, the Haven +had nearly gone to sleep and the rain was past. In the silence they +heard the river rushing through the sluices to the sea; and then they +set their faces homeward. + +But they had to pass the old store-house. It loomed a black, amorphous +pile heaved up against the stars, and the man's footsteps dragged as he +came to the gaping gates and silent court. + +He stopped and she stopped. + +His voice was gruff and queer and half-choked. + +"Come," he said, "I'm in hell, and you've got to turn it to heaven." + +She murmured something, but he put his arm round her and they vanished +into the mass of silent darkness. + +It was past midnight when they parted at the door of Sabina's home and +he gave her the cool kiss of afterwards. + +"Now we are one, body and soul, for ever," she whispered to him. + +"By God, yes," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +CREDIT + + +The mind of Raymond Ironsyde was now driven and tossed by winds of +passion which, blowing against the tides of his own nature, created +unrest and storm. A strain of chivalry belonged to him and at first this +conquered. He felt the magnitude of Sabina's sacrifice and his +obligation to a love so absolute. In this spirit he remained for a time, +during which their relations were of the closest. They spoke of +marriage; they even appointed the day on which the announcement of their +betrothal should be made. And though he had gone thus far at her +entreaty, always recognising when with her the reasonableness of her +wish, after she was gone, the cross seas of his own character, created a +different impression and swept the pattern of Sabina's will away. + +For a time the intrigue of meeting her, the planning and the plotting +amused him. He imagined the world was blind and that none knew, or +guessed, the truth. But Bridetown, having eyes as many and sharp as any +other hamlet, had long been familiar with the facts. The transparent +veil of their imagined secrecy was already rent, though the lovers did +not guess it. + +Then Raymond's chivalry wore thinner. Ruling passions, obscured for a +season by the tremendous experience of his first love and its success, +began by slow degrees to rise again, solid and challenging, through the +rosy clouds. His love, while he shouted to himself that it increased +rather than diminished, none the less assumed a change of colour and +contour. The bright vapours still shone and Sabina could always kindle +ineffable glow to the fabric; but she away, they shrank a little and +grew less radiant. The truth of himself and his ambitions showed +through. At such times he dinned on the ears of his heart that Sabina +was his life. At other times when the fading fire astonished him by +waking a shiver, he blamed fate, told himself that but for the lack of +means, he would make a perfect home for Sabina; worship and cherish her; +fill her life with happiness; pander to her every whim; devote a large +portion of his own time to her; do all that wit and love could devise +for her pleasure--all but one thing. + +He did not want to marry her. With that deed demanding to be done, the +necessity for it began to be questioned sharply. He was not a marrying +man and, in any case, too young to commit himself and his prospects to +such a course. He assured himself that he had never contemplated +immediate marriage; he had never suggested it to Sabina. She herself had +not suggested it; for what advantage could be gained by such a step? +While a thousand disasters might spring therefrom, not the least being a +quarrel with his brother, there was nothing to be said for it. He began +to suspect that he could do little less likely to assure Sabina's +future. He clung to his strand of chivalry at this time, like a drowning +man to a straw; but other ingredients of his nature dragged him away. +Selfishness is the parent of sophistry, and Raymond found himself +dismissing old rules of morality and inherited instincts of religion and +justice for more practical and worldly values. He told himself it was as +much for Sabina's sake as for his own that he must now respect the +dictates of common-sense. + +There came a day in October, when the young man sat in his office at the +mills, smoking and absorbed with his own affairs. The river Bride was +broken above the works, and while her way ran south of them, the +mill-race came north. Its labour on the wheel accomplished, the current +turned quickly back to the river bed again. From Raymond's window he +could see the main stream, under a clay bank, where the martins built +their nests in spring, and where rush and sedge and an over-hanging +sallow marked her windings. The sunshine found the stickles, and where +Bride skirted the works lay a pool in which trout moved. Water +buttercups shone silver white in this back-water at spring-time and the +water-voles had their haunts in the bank side. + +Beyond stretched meadow-lands and over the hill that rose behind them +climbed the road to the cliffs. Hounds had ascended this road two hours +before and their music came faintly from afar to Raymond's ear, then +ceased. Already his relations with Sabina had lessened his will to +pleasure in other directions. His money had gone in gifts to her, +leaving no spare cash for the old amusements; but the distractions, that +for a time had seemed so tame contrasted with the girl, cried louder and +reminded how necessary and healthy they were. + +Life seemed reduced to the naked question of cash. He was sorry for +himself. It looked hard, outrageous, wrong, that tastes so sane and +simple as his own, could not be gratified. A horseman descended the hill +and Raymond recognised him. It was Neddy Motyer. His horse was lame and +he walked beside it. Raymond smiled to himself, for Neddy, though a +zealous follower of hounds, lacked judgment and often met with disaster. + +Ten minutes later Neddy himself appeared. + +"Come to grief," he said. "Horse put his foot into a rabbit hole and cut +his knee on a flint. I've just taken him to the vet, here to be +bandaged, so I thought I'd look you up. Why weren't you out?" + +"I've got more important things to think about for the minute." + +Neddy helped himself to a cigarette. + +"Growing quite the man of business," he said. "What will power you've +got! A few of us bet five to one you wouldn't stick it a month; but here +you are. Only I can tell you this, Ray: you're wilting under it. You're +not half the man you were. You're getting beastly thin--looking a worm +in fact." + +Raymond laughed. + +"I'm all right. Plenty of time to make up for lost time." + +"It's metal more attractive, I believe," hazarded Motyer. "A little +bird's been telling us things in Bridport. Keep clear of the petticoats, +old chap--the game's never worth the candle. I speak from experience." + +"Do you? I shouldn't think any girl would have much use for you." + +"Oh yes, they have--plenty of them. But once bit, twice shy. I had an +adventure last year." + +"I don't want to hear it." + +Neddy showed concern. + +"You're all over the shop, Ray. These blessed works are knocking the +stuffing out of you and spoiling your temper. Are you coming to the +'smoker' at 'The Tiger' next month?" + +"No." + +"Well, do. You want bucking. It'll be a bit out of the common. Jack +Buckler's training at 'The Tiger' for his match with Solly Blades. You +know--eliminating round for middle-weight championship. And he's going +to spar three rounds with our boy from the tannery--Tim Chick." + +"I heard about it from one of our girls here--a cousin of Tim's. But I'm +off that sort of thing." + +"Since when?" + +"You can't understand, Ned; but life's too short for everything. Perhaps +you'll have to turn to work someday. Then you'll know." + +"You don't work from eight o'clock at night till eleven anyway. Take my +tip and come to the show and make a night of it. Waldron's going to be +there. He's hunting this morning." + +"I know." + +The dinner bell had rung and now there came a knock at Raymond's door. +Then Sabina entered and was departing again, but her lover bade her +stay. + +"Don't go, Sabina. This is my friend, Mr. Motyer--Miss Dinnett." + +Motyer, remembering Raymond's recent snub, was exceedingly charming to +Sabina. He stopped and chatted another five minutes, then mentioned the +smoking concert again and so took his departure. Raymond spoke +slightingly of him when he had gone. + +"He's no good, really," he said. "An utter waster and only a hanger-on +of sport--can't do anything himself but talk. Now he'll tell everybody +in Bridport about you coming up here in the dinner-hour. Come and cheer +me up. I'm bothered to death." + +He kissed her and put his arms round her, but she would not stop. + +"I can't stay here," she said. "I want to walk up the hill with you. If +you're bothered, so am I, my darling." + +He put on his hat and they went out together. + +"I've had a nasty jar," she told him. "People are beginning to say +things, Raymond--things that you wouldn't like to think are being said." + +"I thought we rose superior to the rest of the world, and what it said +and what it thought." + +"We do and we always have. We're not moral cowards either of us. But +there are some things. You don't want me to be insulted. You don't want +either of us to lose the respect of people." + +"We can't have our cake and eat it too, I suppose," he said rather +carelessly. "Personally I don't care a straw whether people respect me, +or despise me, as long as I respect myself. The people that matter to me +respect me all right." + +"Well, the people that matter to me, don't," she answered with a flash +of colour. "We'll leave you out, Raymond, since you're satisfied; but +I'm not satisfied. It isn't right, or fair, that I should begin to get +sour looks from the women here, where I used to have smiles; and looks +from the men--hateful looks--looks that no decent woman ought to suffer. +And my mother has heard a lot of lies and is very miserable. So I think +it's high time we let everybody know we're engaged. And you must think +so, too, after what I've told you, Ray dear." + +"Certainly," he answered, "not a shadow of doubt about it. And if I saw +any man insult you, I should delight to thrash him on the spot--or a +dozen of them. How the devil do people find out about one? I thought +we'd been more than clever enough to hoodwink a dead alive place like +this." + +"Will you let me tell mother, to-day? And Sally Groves, and one or two +of my best friends at the Mill? Do, Raymond--it's only fair to me now." + +Had she left unspoken her last sentence, he might have agreed; but it +struck a wrong note on his ear. It sounded selfish; it suggested that +Sabina was concerned with herself and indifferent to the complications +she had brought into his life. For a moment he was minded to answer +hastily; but he controlled himself. + +"It's natural you should feel like that; so do I, of course. We must +settle a date for letting it out. I'll think about it. I'd say this +minute, and you know I'm looking forward quite as much as you are to +letting the world know my luck; but unfortunately you've just raised the +question at an impossible moment, Sabina." + +"Why? Surely nothing can make it impossible to clear my good name, +Raymond?" + +"I've got a good name, too. At least, I imagine so." + +"Our names are one, or should be." + +"Not yet, exactly. I wanted to spare you bothers. I do spare you all the +bothers I can; but, of course, I've got my own, too, like everybody +else. You see it's rather vital to your future, which you're naturally +so keen about, Sabina, that I keep in with my brother. You'll admit +that much. Well, for the moment I'm having the deuce of a row with him. +You know what an exacting beggar he is. He will have his pound of flesh, +and he has no sympathy for anything on two legs but himself. I asked him +for a fortnight's holiday." + +"A fortnight's holiday, Raymond!" + +"Yes--that's not very wonderful, is it? But, of course, you can't +understand what this work is to me, because you look at it from a +different angle. Anyway I want a holiday--to get right away and consider +things; and he won't let me have it. And finding that, I lost my temper. +And if, at the present moment, Daniel hears that we're engaged to be +married, Sabina, it's about fifty to one that he'd chuck me altogether +and stop my dirty little allowance also." + +They had reached the gate of 'The Magnolias,' and Sabina did a startling +thing. She turned from him and went down the path to the back entrance +without another word. But this he could not stand. His heart smote him +and he called her with such emotion that she also was sorrowful and came +back to the gate. + +"Good God! you frightened me," he said. "This is a quarrel, Sabina--our +first and last, I hope. Never, never let anything come between us. +That's unthinkable and I won't have it. You must give and take, my +precious girl. And so must I. But look at it. What on earth happens to +us if Daniel fires me out of the Mill?" + +"He's a just man," she answered. "Dislike him as we may, he's a just man +and you need not fear him, or anybody else, if you do the right thing." + +"You oppose your will to mine, then, Sabina?" + +"I don't know your will. I thought I did; I thought I understood you so +well by now and was learning better and better how to please you. But +now I tell you I am being wronged, and you say nothing can be done." + +"I never said so. I'm not a blackguard, Sabina, and you ought to know +that as well as the rest of the world. I'm poor, unfortunately, and the +poor have got to be politic. Daniel may be just, but it's a +narrow-minded, hypocritical justice, and if I tell him I'm engaged to +you, he'll sack me. That's the plain English of it." + +"I don't believe he would." + +"Well, I know he would; and you must at least allow me to know more +about him than you do. And so I ask you whether it is common-sense to +tell him what's going to happen, for the sake of a few clod-hoppers, who +matter to nobody, or--" + +"But, but, how long is it to go on? Why do you shrink from doing now +what you wanted to do at first?" + +"I don't shrink from it at all. I only intend to choose the proper time +and not give the show away at a moment when to do so will be to ruin +me." + +"'Give the show away,'" she quoted bitterly. "You can look me in the +face and say a thing like that! It's only 'a show' to you; but it's my +life to me." + +"I'm sorry I used the expression. Words aren't anything. It's my life to +me, too. And I've got to think for both of us. In a week, or ten days, +I'll eat humble pie and climb down and grovel to Daniel. Then, when I'm +pardoned, we'll tell everybody. It won't kill you to wait another +fortnight anyway. And in the meantime we'd better see less of each +other, since you're getting so worried about what your friends say about +us." + +Now he had said too much. Sabina would have agreed to the suggestion of +a fortnight's waiting, but the proposal that they should see less of +each other both hurt and angered her. The quarrel culminated. + +"Caution seems to me rather a cowardly thing, Raymond, from you to me. I +tell you that your wife's good name is at stake. For, since you've +called me your wife so often, I suppose I may do the same. And if you're +so careless for my credit, then I must be jealous for it myself." + +"And my credit can go to the devil, I suppose?" + +Then she flamed, struck to the root of the matter and left him. + +"If the fact that you're engaged to me, by every sacred tie of honour, +ruins your credit--then tell yourself what you are," she said, and her +voice rose to a note he had never heard before. + +This time he did not call her back, but went his own way up the hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +IN THE FOREMAN'S GARDEN + + +Mr. Best was a good gardener and cultivated fruit and flowers to +perfection. His rambling patch of ground ran beside the river and some +of his apple trees bent over it. Pear trees also he grew, and a medlar +and a quince. But flowers he specially loved. His house was bowered in +roses to the thatched roof, and in the garden grew lilies and lupins, a +hundred roses and many bright tracts of shining, scented blossoms. Now, +however, they had vanished and on a Saturday afternoon John Best was +tidying up, tending a bonfire and digging potatoes. + +He was generous of his treasures and the girls never hesitated to ask +him for a rose in June. Ancient Mrs. Chick, too, won an annual gift from +the foreman. Down one side of his garden ranged great elder bushes, and +Mrs. Chick made of the blooth in summer time, a decoction very precious +for throat troubles. + +Now Best stood for a moment and regarded a waste corner where grew +nettles. Somebody approached him in this act of contemplation and he +spoke. + +"I often wonder if it would be worth while making an experiment with +stinging nettles," he said to Ernest Churchouse, who was the visitor. + +"They have a spinnable fibre, John, without a doubt." + +"They have, Mister Churchouse, and they scutch well and can be wrought +into textiles. But there's no temptation to make trial. I'm only +thinking in a scientific spirit." + +He swept up the fallen nettles for his bonfire. + +"I've come for a few balls of the rough twine," said Mr. Churchouse. + +"And welcome." + +An unusual air of gloom sat on Mr. Best and the other was quick to +observe it. + +"All well, I hope?" he said. + +"Not exactly. I'm rather under the weather; but I dare say it's my own +fault." + +"It often is," admitted Ernest; "but in my experience that doesn't make +it any better. In fact, the most disagreeable sort of depression is that +which we know we are responsible for ourselves. When other people annoy +us, we have the tonic effect of righteous indignation; but not when we +annoy ourselves and know ourselves to blame." + +"I wouldn't go so far as to say it's all my own fault, however," +answered Mr. Best. "It is and it isn't my fault. To be a father of +children is your own fault in a manner of speaking; and yet to be a +father is not any wrong, other things being as they should." + +"On the contrary, it's part of the whole duty of man--other things being +equal, as you say." + +"We look to see ourselves reflected in our offspring, yet how often do +we?" asked the foreman. + +"Perhaps we might oftener, if we didn't suffer from constitutional +inability to recognise ourselves, John. I've thought of this problem, +let me tell you, for you are one of many who feel the same. So far as I +can see, parents worry about what their children look like to them; but +never about what they look like to their children." + +"You speak as a childless widower," answered the other. "Believe me, +Mister Churchouse, children nowadays never hesitate to tell us what we +look like to them--or what they think of us either. Even my sailor boy +will do it." + +"It's the result of education," said Ernest. "There is no doubt that +education has altered the outlook of the child on the parent. The old +relation has disappeared and the fifth commandment does not make its old +appeal. Children are better educated than their parents." + +"And what's the result? They'd kill the home goose that lays the golden +eggs to-morrow, if they could. In fact, they're doing it. Those that +remain reasonable and obedient to their fathers and mothers feel +themselves martyrs. That's the best sort; but it ain't much fun having a +house full of martyrs whether or no; and it ain't much fun to know that +your offspring are merely enduring you, as a necessary affliction. As +for the other sort, who can't stick home life and old-fashioned ideas, +they just break loose and escape as quick as ever they know how--and no +loss either." + +"A gloomy picture," admitted Mr. Churchouse; "but, like every other +picture, it has two sides. I think time may be trusted to put it right. +After the young have left the nest, and hopped out into the world, and +been sharply pecked now and again, they begin to see home in its true +perspective and find that there is nothing like the affection of a +mother and father." + +"They don't want anything of that," declared John. "If you stand for +sense and experience and try to learn them, they think you're a fossil +and out of sight of reality; and if you attempt to be young and interest +yourself in their wretched little affairs and pay the boy with the boys +and the girl with the girls, they think you're a fool." + +"No doubt they see through any effort on the part of the middle-aged to +be one with them," admitted Ernest. "And for my part I deprecate such +attempts. Let us grow old like gentlemen, John, and if they cannot +perceive the rightness and stateliness of age, so much the worse for +them. Some of us, however, err very gravely in this matter. There are +men who have not the imagination to see themselves growing old; they +only feel it. And they try to hide their feelings and think they are +also hiding the fact. Such men, of course, become the laughing-stocks of +the rising generation and the shame of their own." + +"All the young are alike, so I needn't grumble at my own family for that +matter," confessed Mr. Best. "Their generation is all equally headstrong +and opinionated--high and low, the same. If I've hinted to Raymond +Ironsyde once, I've hinted a thousand times, that he's not going about +his business in a proper spirit." + +"He is at present obviously in love, John, and must not therefore be +judged. But I share your uneasiness." + +"It's wrong, and he knows it, and she ought to know it, too. Sabina, I +mean. I should have given her credit for more sense myself. I thought +she had plenty of self-respect and brains too." + +"Things are coming to a crisis in that quarter," prophesied Ernest. "It +is a quality of love that it doesn't stand still, John; and something is +going to happen very shortly. Either it will be given out that they are +betrothed, or else the thing will fade away. Sabina has very fine +instincts; and on his side, he would, I am sure, do nothing unbecoming +his family." + +"He has--plenty," declared Mr. Best. + +"Nothing about which there would not be two opinions, believe me. The +fact that he has let it go so far makes me think they are engaged. The +young will go their own way about things." + +"If it was all right, Sabina Dinnett wouldn't be so miserable," argued +John Best. "She was used to be as cheerful as a bird on a bough; and now +she is not." + +"Merely showing that the climax is at hand. I have seen myself lately +that Sabina was unhappy and even taxed her with it; but she denied it. +Her mother, however, knows that she is a good deal perturbed. We must +hope for the best." + +"And what is the best?" asked John. + +"There is not the slightest difficulty about that; the best is what will +happen," replied Mr. Churchouse. "As a good Christian you know it +perfectly well." + +But the other shook his head. + +"That won't do," he answered, "that's only evasion, Mister Ernest. +There's lots and lots of things happen, and the better the Christian +you are, the better you know they ought not to happen. And whether they +are engaged to be married, or whether they quarrel, trouble must come of +it. If people do wrong, it's no good for Christians to say the issue +must be right. That's simply weak-minded. You might as well argue +nothing wrong ever does happen, since nothing can happen without the +will of God." + +"In a sense that's true," admitted Ernest. "So true, in fact, that we'd +better change the subject, John. We thinking and religious men know +there's a good deal of thin ice in Christianity, where we've got to walk +with caution and not venture without a guide. One needs professional +theologians to skate over these dangerous places safely. But, for my +part, I have my reason well under control, as every religious person +should. I can perfectly accept the fact that evil happens, and yet that +nothing happens without the sanction of an all powerful and all good +God." + +"You'd better come and get your string then," said Mr. Best. "And long +may your fine faith flourish. You're a great lesson to us people cursed +with too much common-sense, I'm sure." + +"Where our religion is concerned, we should be too proud to submit it to +common-sense," declared Ernest. "Common-sense is all very well in +everyday affairs; in fact, this world would not prosper without it; but +I strongly deprecate common-sense as applied to the next world, John. +The next world, from what one glimpses of it in prophecy and revelation, +is outside the category of common-sense altogether." + +"I stand corrected," said Mr. Best. "But it's a startler--to leave +common-sense out of what matters most to thinking men." + +"We shall be altered in the twinkling of an eye," explained Ernest, "and +so, doubtless, will be our humble, earthly intelligence, our reliance on +reason and other mundane virtues. From the heavenly standpoint, earth +will seem a very sordid business altogether, I suspect, and even our +good qualities appear very peddling. In fact, we may find, John, that we +were in the habit of putting up statues to the wrong persons, and +discover the most unexpected people at the right hand of the Throne." + +"I dare say we shall," admitted Mr. Best; "for if common-sense is going +by the board and the virtues all to be scrapped also, then we that think +we stand had better take heed lest we fall--you and me included, Mister +Churchouse. However, I'm glad to say I'm not with you there. The Book +tells us very clear what's good and what's evil; and whatever else +Heaven will do, it won't go back on the Book. I suppose you'll grant +that much?" + +"Most certainly," said the elder. "Most certainly and surely, John. +That, at least, we can rely upon. Our stronghold lies in the fact that +we know good from evil, and though we don't know what 'infinite' +goodness is, we do know that it is still goodness. Therefore, though God +is infinitely good, He is still good; the difference between His +goodness and ours is one of degree, not kind. So metaphysics and +quibbling leave us quite safe, which is all that really matters." + +"I hope you're right," answered Best. "Life puts sharp questions to +religion, and I can't pretend my religion's always clever enough to +answer them." + +Ernest took his twine and departed; but the subject of Raymond and +Sabina was not destined to slumber, for now he met Raymond on his way to +North Hill House. + +He asked him to come into tea and, to his surprise, the young man +refused. + +"That means Sabina isn't at home then," said Mr. Churchouse blandly. + +"I don't know where she is." + +At this challenge Ernest spoke and struck into the matter very directly. +He blamed Raymond and feared that his course of action was not that of a +gentleman. + +"You would be the very first to protest and criticise unfavourably, my +dear boy, if you saw anybody else treating a girl in this fashion," he +concluded. + +"I'm going to clear it up," answered the culprit. "Don't you worry. +These things can't be done in a minute. This infernal place is always so +quick to think evil, apparently, and judges decent people by its own +dirty opinions. I've asked Daniel to give me a holiday, so that I may go +away and think over life in general. And he won't give me a holiday. +It's very clear to me, Uncle Ernest, that no self-respecting man would +be able to work under Daniel for long. Things are coming to a climax. I +doubt if I shall be able to keep on here." + +"You evade the subject, which is your friendship with Sabina, Raymond. +As to Daniel, there ought to be no difficulty whatever, and you know it +very well in your heart and head. Your protest deceives nobody. But +Sabina?" + +Here the conversation ceased abruptly, for Raymond committed an unique +offence. He told Mr. Churchouse to go to the devil, and left him, +standing transfixed with amazement, at the outer gate of 'The +Magnolias.' + +With the insult to himself Ernest was not much concerned. His regretful +astonishment centred in the spectacle of Raymond's downfall. + +"To what confusion and disorder must his mind have been reduced, before +he could permit himself such a lapse," reflected Mr. Churchouse. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE CONCERT + + +The effect of Raymond's attitude on Sabina's mind proved very serious. +It awoke in her first anger and then dismay. She was a woman of fine +feeling and quick perception. Love and ambition had pointed the same +road, and the hero, being, as it seemed, without guile, had convinced +her that she might believe every word that he spoke and trust everything +that he did. She had never contemplated any sacrifice before marriage, +and, indeed, when it came, the consummation of their worship proved no +sacrifice to her, but an added joy. Less than many a married woman had +she mourned the surrender, for in her eyes it made all things complete +between them and bound them inseparably with the golden links of love +and honour. + +When, therefore, upon this perfect union, sinister light from without +had broken, she felt it no great thing to ask Raymond that their +betrothal should be known. Reason and justice demanded it. She did not +for an instant suppose that he would hesitate, but rather expected him +to blame his own blindness in delay. But finding he desired further +postponement, she was struck with consternation that rose to wrath; and +when he persisted, she became alarmed and now only considered what best +she might do for her own sake. Her work suffered and her friends +perceived that all was not well with her. With the shortening days and +bad weather, the meetings with Raymond became more difficult to pursue +and she saw less of him. They had patched their quarrel and were +friendly enough, but the perfect understanding had departed. They +preserved a common ground and she did not mention subjects likely to +annoy him. He appeared to be working steadily, seldom came into the +shops and was more reserved to everybody in the Mill. + +Sabina had not yet spoken to her mother, though many times tempted to do +so. Her loyalty proved strong in the time of trial; but the greater the +strain on herself, the greater the strain on her love for the man. She +told herself that no such cruel imposition should have been placed upon +her; and she could not fail closely to question the need for it. Why did +Raymond demand continued silence even in the face of offences put upon +her by her neighbours? How could he endure to hear that people had been +rude to her, and uttered coarse jests in her hearing aimed only at her +ear? Would a man who loved her, as she deserved to be loved, suffer +this? Then fear grew. With her he was always kind--kind and considerate +in every matter but the vital matter. Yet there were differences. The +future, in which he had delighted to revel, bored him now, and when she +spoke of it, he let the matter drop. He was on good terms with his +brother for the moment, and appeared to be winning an increasing +interest in his business to the exclusion of other affairs. He would +become animated on the subject of Sabina's work, rather than the subject +of Sabina. He stabbed her unconsciously with many little shafts of +speech, yet knew not that he was doing so. He grew more grave and +self-controlled in their relations. Her personal touch began to lose +power and waken his answering fire less often. It was then that she +found herself with child, and knowing that despite much to cause +concern, Raymond was still himself, she rejoiced, since this fact must +terminate his wavering and establish her future. Here at least was an +event beyond his power to evade. He loved her and had promised to wed +her. He was a man who might be weak, but had never explicitly behaved in +a manner to make her tremble for such a situation as the present. +Procrastination ceased to be possible. What now had happened must +demand instant recognition of her rights, and that given, she assured +herself the future held no terrors. Now he must marry her, or contradict +his own record as a gentleman and a man of honour. + +Yet she told him with a tremor and, until the last moment, could not +banish from her heart the shadow of fear. He had never spoken of this +possibility, or taken it into account, and she felt, seeing his silence, +that it would be a shock. + +The news came to him as they walked from the Mill on a Saturday when the +works closed at noon. He was on his way to Bridport and she went beside +him for a mile through the lanes. + +For a moment he said nothing, then, seeing the road empty, he put his +arms round her and kissed her. + +"You clever girl!" he said. + +"Don't tell me you're sorry, for God's sake, or I shall go and drown +myself," she answered. Her face was anxious and she looked haggard in +the cold light of a sunless, winter day. But a genuine, generous emotion +had touched him, and with it woke pangs of remorse and contrition. He +knew very well what she had been suffering mentally on his account, and +he knew that the frightened voice in which she told him the news and the +trembling mouth and the tear in her eyes ought not to have been there. +Every fine feeling in the man and every honest instinct was aroused. For +the moment he felt glad that no further delay was possible. His +self-respect had already suffered; but now life offered him swift means +to regain it. He did not, however, think of himself while his arms were +round her; he thought of her and her only, while they remained together. + +"'Sorry'?" he said. "Can you think I'm sorry? I'm only sorry that I +didn't do something sooner and marry you before this happened, Sabina. +Good Lord--it throws a lot of light. I swear it does. I'm glad--I'm +honestly glad--and you must be glad and proud and happy and all the +rest of it. We'll be married in a month. And you must tell your mother +we're engaged to-day; and I'll tell my people. Don't you worry. Damn me, +I've been worrying you a lot lately; but it was only because I couldn't +see straight. Now I do and I'll soon atone." + +She wept with thankful heart and begged him to turn with her and tell +Mrs. Dinnett himself. But that he would not do. + +"It will save time if I go on to Bridport and let Aunt Jenny hear about +it. Of course the youngster is our affair and nobody need know about +that. But we must be married in a jiffey and--you must give notice at +the mill to-day. Go back now and tell Best." + +"How wonderful you are!" she said. "And yet I feared you might be savage +about it." + +"More shame to me that you should have feared it," he answered; "for +that means that I haven't been sporting. But you shall never be +frightened of me again, Sabina. To see you frightened hurts me like +hell. If ever you are again, it will be your fault, not mine." + +She left him very happy and a great cloud seemed to fall off her life as +she returned to the village. She blamed herself for ever doubting him. +Her love rose from its smothered fires. She soared to great heights and +dreamed of doing mighty things for Raymond. Straight home to her mother +she went and told Mrs. Dinnett of her engagement and swiftly approaching +marriage. The light had broken on her darkness at last and she welcomed +the child as a blessed forerunner of good. The coming life had already +made her love it. + +Meantime Raymond preserved his cheerful spirit for a season. But +existence never looked the same out of Sabina's presence and before he +had reached Bridport, his mood changed. He recognised very acutely his +duty and not a thought stirred in him to escape it; but what for a +little while had appeared more than duty and promised to end mean doubts +and fears for ever, began now to present itself under other aspects. +The joy of a child and a wife and a home faded. For what sort of a home +could he establish? He leaned to the hope that Daniel might prove +generous under the circumstances and believed that his aunt might throw +her weight on his side and urge his brother to make adequate provision; +but these reflections galled him unspeakably, for they were sordid. They +argued weakness in him. He must come as a beggar and eat humble pie; he +must for ever sacrifice his independence and, with it, everything that +had made life worth living. The more he thought upon it, the more he +began to hate the necessity of taking this story to his relations. +Better men than he had lived in poverty and risen from humble +beginnings. It struck him that if he went his own way, redoubled his +official energies and asked for nothing more on the strength of his +marriage, his own self-respect would be preserved as well as the respect +of his aunt and brother. He pictured himself as a hero, yet knew that +what he contemplated was merely the conduct of an honest man. + +The thought of approaching anybody with his intentions grew more +distasteful, and by the time he reached Bridport, he had determined not +to mention the matter, at any rate until the following day. So great a +thing demanded more consideration than he could give it for the moment, +because his whole future depended on the manner in which he broke it to +his people. It was true that the circumstances admitted of no serious +delay; Sabina must, of course, be considered before everything; but +twenty-four hours would make no difference to her, while it might make +all the difference to him. + +He reduced the courses of action to two. Either he would announce that +he was going to be married immediately as a fact accomplished; or he +would invite his aunt's sympathies, use diplomacy and win her to his +side with a view to approaching Daniel. Daniel appeared the danger, +because it was quite certain that he would strongly disapprove of +Raymond's marriage. This certainty induced another element of doubt. +For suppose, far from seeking to help Raymond with his new +responsibilities, Daniel took the opposite course and threatened to +punish him for any such stupidity? Suppose that his brother, from a +personal standpoint, objected and backed his objection with a definite +assurance that Raymond must leave the mill if he took this step? The +only way out of that would be to tell Daniel that he was compromised and +must wed Sabina for honour. But Raymond felt that he would rather die +than make any such confession. His whole soul rose with loathing at the +thought of telling the truth to one so frozen and unsympathetic. +Moreover there was not only himself to be considered, but Sabina. What +chance would she have of ever winning Daniel to acknowledge and respect +her if the facts came to his ears? + +Raymond thought himself into a tangle and found a spirit of great +depression settling upon him. But, at last, he decided to sleep on the +situation. He did not go home, but turned his steps to 'The Tiger,' ate +his luncheon and drank heartily with it. + +Then he went to see a boxer, who was training with Mr. Gurd, and +presently when Neddy Motyer appeared, he turned into the billiard room +and there killed some hours before the time of the smoking concert. + +He imbibed the intensely male atmosphere of 'The Tiger' with a good deal +of satisfaction; but surging up into the forefront of his mind came +every moment the truth concerning himself and his future. It made him +bitter. For some reason he could not guess, he found himself playing +billiards very much above his form. Neddy was full of admiration. + +"By Jove, you've come on thirty in a hundred," he said. "If you only +gave a fair amount of time to it, you'd soon beat anybody here but +Waldron." + +"My sporting days are practically over," answered Raymond. "I've got to +face real life now, and as soon as you begin to do that, you find sport +sinks under the horizon a bit. I thought I should miss it a lot, but I +shan't." + +"If anybody else said that, I should think it was the fox who had lost +his brush talking," replied Neddy; "but I suppose you mean it. Only +you'll find, if you chuck sport, you'll soon be no good. Even as it is, +going into the works has put you back a lot. I doubt if you could do a +hundred in eleven seconds now." + +"There are more important things than doing a hundred in eleven +seconds--or even time, either, for that matter." + +"You won't chuck football, anyway? You'll be fast enough for outside +right for year's yet if you watch yourself." + +"Damned easy to say 'watch yourself.' Yes, I shall play footer a bit +longer if they want me, I suppose." + +Arthur Waldron dropped in a few minutes later. + +He was glad to see Raymond. + +"Good," he said. "I thought you were putting in a blameless evening with +your people." + +"No, I'm putting in a blameless evening here." + +"He's playing enormous billiards, Waldron," declared Motyer. "I suppose +you've been keeping him at it. He's come on miles." + +"He didn't learn with me, anyway. It's not once in a blue moon that he +plays at North Hill. But if he's come on, so much the better." + +They played, but Raymond's form had deserted him. Waldron was much +better than the average amateur and now he gave Raymond fifty in two +hundred and beat him by as much. They dined together presently, and Job +Legg, who often lent a hand at 'The Tiger' on moments of extra pressure, +waited upon them. + +"How's your uncle, Job?" asked Arthur Waldron, who was familiar with Mr. +Legg, and not seldom visited 'The Seven Stars,' when Estelle came with +him to Bridport. + +"He's a goner, sir. I'm off to the funeral on Monday." + +"Hope the will was all right?" + +"Quite all right, sir, thank you, sir." + +"Then you'll leave, no doubt, and what will Missis Northover do then?" + +Legg smiled. + +"It's hid in the future, sir," he answered. + +A comedian, who was going to perform at the smoking concert, came in +with Mr. Gurd, and the innkeeper introduced him to Neddy and Raymond. He +joined them and added an element of great hilarity to the meal. He +abounded in good stories, and understood horse-racing as well as Neddy +Motyer himself. Neddy now called himself a 'gentleman backer,' but +admitted that, so far, it had not proved a lucrative profession. + +Their talk ranged over sport and athletics. They buzzed one against the +other, and not even the humour of the comic man was proof against the +seriousness of Arthur Waldron, who demonstrated, as always, that +England's greatness had sprung from the pursuit of masculine pastimes. +The breed of horses and the breed of men alike depended upon sport. The +Empire, in Mr. Waldron's judgment, had arisen from this sublime +foundation. + +"It reaches from the highest to the lowest," he declared. "The puppy +that plays most is the one that always turns into the best dog." + +The smoking concert, held in Mr. Gurd's large dining-room, went the way +of such things with complete success. The boxing was of the best, and +the local lad, Tim Chick, performed with credit against his experienced +antagonist. All the comic man's songs aimed at the folly of marriage and +the horrors of domesticity. He seemed to be singing at Raymond, who +roared with the rest and hated the humourist all the time. The young man +grew uneasy and morose before the finish, drank too much whiskey, and +felt glad to get into the cold night air when all was over. + +And then there happened to him a challenge very unexpected, for Waldron, +as they walked back together through the night-hidden lanes, chose the +opportunity to speak of Raymond's private affairs. + +"You can't accuse me of wanting to stick my nose into other people's +business, can you, Ray? And you can't fairly say that you've ever found +me taking too much upon myself or anything of that sort." + +"No; you're unique in that respect." + +"Well, then, you mustn't be savage if I'm personal. You know me jolly +well and you know that you're about the closest friend I've got. And if +you weren't a friend and a great deal to me, I shouldn't speak." + +"Go ahead--I can guess. There's only one topic in Bridetown, apparently. +No doubt you've seen me in the company of Sabina Dinnett?" + +"I haven't, I can honestly say. But Estelle is very keen about the mill +girls. She wants to do all sorts of fine things for them; and she's +specially friendly with Missis Dinnett's daughter. And she's heard +things that puzzled her young ears naturally, and she told me that some +people say you're being too kind to Sabina and other people say you're +treating her hardly. Of course, that puzzled Estelle, clever though she +is; but, as a man of the world, I saw what it meant and that kindness +may really be cruelty in the long run. You'll forgive me, won't you?" + +"Of course, my dear chap. If one lives in a hole like Bridetown, one +must expect one's affairs to be common property." + +"And if they are, what does it matter as long as they are all +straightforward? I never care a button what anybody says about me, +because I know they can't say anything true that is up against me; and +as to lies, they don't matter." + +"And d'you think I care what they say about me?" + +"Rather not. Only if a girl is involved, then the case is altered. I'm +not a saint; but--" + +"When anybody says they're not a saint, you know they're going to begin +to preach, Arthur." + +Waldron did not answer for a minute. He stopped and lighted his pipe. To +Raymond, Sabina appeared unmeasurably distant at this midnight hour. +His volatile mind was quick to take colour from the last experience, and +in the aura of the smoking concert, woman looked a slight and inferior +thing; marriage, a folly; domestic life, a jest. + +Waldron spoke again. + +"You won't catch me preaching. I only venture to say that in a little +place like this, it's a mistake to be identified with a girl beneath you +in every way. It won't hurt you, and if she was a common girl and given +to playing about, it wouldn't hurt her; but the Dinnetts are different. +However, you know a great deal more about her than I do, and if you tell +me she's not all she seems and you're not the first and won't be the +last, then, of course I'm wrong and enough said. But if she's all right +and all she's thought to be, and all Estelle thinks her--for Estelle's a +jolly good student of character--then, frankly, I don't think it's +sporting of you to do what you're doing." + +The word 'sporting' summed the situation from Waldron's point of view +and he said no more. + +Raymond grew milder. + +"She's all Estelle thinks her. I have a great admiration for her. She's +amazingly clever and refined. In fact, I never saw any girl a patch on +her in my life." + +"Well then, what follows? Surely she ought to be respected in every +way." + +"I do respect her." + +"Then it's up to you to treat her as you'd treat anybody of your own +class, and take care that nothing you do throws any shadow on her. And, +of course, you know it. I'm not suggesting for a second you don't. I'm +only suggesting that what would be quite all right with a girl in your +own set, isn't exactly fair to Sabina--her position in the world being +what it is." + +It was on Raymond's tongue to declare his engagement; but he did not. He +had banished Sabina for that night and the subject irked him. The +justice of Waldron's criticism also irked him; but he acknowledged it. + +"Thank you," he answered. "It's jolly good of you to say these things, +Arthur, because they're not in your line, and I know you hate them. But +you're dead right. I dare say I'll tell you something that will astonish +you before long. But I'm not doing anything to be ashamed of. I haven't +made any mistake; and if I had, I shouldn't shirk the payment." + +"You can't, my dear chap. A mistake has always got to be paid for in +full--often with interest added. As a sportsman you know that, and it +holds all through life in my experience." + +"I shan't make one. But if I do, I'm quite prepared to pay the cost." + +"We all say that till the bill comes along. Better avoid the mistake, +and I'm glad you're going to." + +Far away from the scrub on North Hill came a sharp, weird sound. + +"Hark!" said Waldron. "That's a dog fox! I hope the beggar's caught a +rabbit." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +A VISIT TO MISS IRONSYDE + + +On the following day Raymond did not appear at breakfast, and Estelle +wondered at so strange an event. + +"He's going for a long walk with me this afternoon," she told her +father. "It's a promise; we're going all the way to Chilcombe, for me to +show him that dear little chapel and the wonderful curiosity in it." + +"Not much in his line, but if he said he'll go, he'll go, no doubt," +answered her father. + +They went to church together presently, for Waldron observed Sunday. He +held no definite religious opinions; but inclined to a vague idea that +it was seemly to go, because it set a good example and increased your +authority. He believed that church-going was a source of good to the +proletariat, and though he did not himself accept the doctrine of +eternal punishment, since it violated all sporting tenets, he was +inclined to think that acceptation of the threat kept ignorant people +straight and made them better members of society. He held that the +parson and squire must combine in this matter and continue to claim and +enforce, as far as possible, a beneficent autocracy in thorpe and +hamlet; and he perceived that religion was the only remaining force +which upheld their sway. That supernatural control was crumbling under +the influences of education he also recognised; but did his best to stem +the tide, and trusted that the old dispensation would at least last out +his time. + +On returning from worship they found Raymond in the garden, and when +Estelle reminded him of his promise, he agreed and declared that he +looked forward to the tramp. He was cheerful and apparently welcomed +Estelle's programme, but there happened that which threatened to +interfere with it. + +Waldron had retired to his study and a new book on 'The Fox Terrier,' +which he reserved for Sabbath reading, and Estelle and Raymond were just +setting out for Chilcombe when there came Sabina. She had called to see +her lover and entered the garden in time to stop him. She had never +openly asked to see him in this manner before, and Raymond was quick to +mark the significance of the change. It annoyed him, while inwardly he +recognised its reasonableness. He turned and shook hands with her, and +Estelle did the same. + +"We're just starting for Chilcombe," she said. + +Sabina looked her surprise. She had been expecting Raymond all the +morning, to bring the great news to Ernest Churchouse, and was puzzled +to know why he had not come. She could not wait longer, and while her +mother advised delay, found herself unable to delay. + +Now she perceived that Raymond had made plans independently of her. + +"I was coming in this evening," he said, in answer to her eyes. + +"May I speak to you a moment before you start with Miss Waldron?" she +asked, and together they strolled into Estelle's rose garden where still +a poor blossom or two crowned naked sprays. + +"I don't understand," began the girl. "Surely--surely after yesterday?" + +"I'd promised to go for this walk with her." + +"What then? Wasn't there all the morning? My mother and I didn't go to +church--expecting you every minute." + +"You must keep your nerve, Sabina--both of us must. You mustn't be +hysterical about it." + +She perceived how mightily his mood had changed since their leave-taking +of the day before. + +"What's the matter?" she asked. "I suppose your people have not taken +this well." + +"They don't know yet--nobody does." + +"You didn't tell them?" + +"Things prevented it. We must choose the right moment to spring this. +It's bound to knock them over for a minute. I'm thinking it all out. +Probably you don't quite realise, Sabina, what this means from their +point of view. The first thing is to get my aunt on my side; Daniel's +hopeless, of course." + +She stared at him. + +"What in God's name has come over you? You talk as though you hadn't a +drop of blood in your veins. Were you deaf yesterday? Didn't you hear me +tell you I was with child by you? 'Their point of view'! What about my +point of view?" + +"Don't get excited, my dear girl. Do give me credit for some sense. This +is a very ticklish business, and the whole of our future--yours, of +course, quite as much as mine--will depend on what I do during the next +few days. Do try to realise that. If I make a mistake now, we may repent +it for fifty years." + +"What d'you call making a mistake? What choice of action have you got if +you're a gentleman? It kills me--kills me to hear you talking about +making a mistake; and your hard voice means that you think you've made +one. What have I done but love you with all my heart and soul? What have +I ever done to make you put other people's points of view before mine?" + +"I'm not--I'm not, Sabina." + +"You are. You used to understand me so well and know what was in my mind +before I spoke, and now--now before this--the greatest thing in the +world for me--you--" + +"Talk quietly, for goodness' sake. You don't want all Bridetown to hear +us." + +"You can say that? And you go out walking with a child and--" + +"Look here, Sabina, you must pull yourself together, or else you stand a +very good chance of bitching up our show altogether," he answered +calmly. "This thing has got to be carried out by me, not you; and if you +are not going to let me do it my own way, then so much the worse for +both of us. I won't be dictated to by you, or anybody, and if you're not +contented to believe in me, then I can only say you're making a big +mistake and you'll very soon find it out." + +"What are you going to do, then?" she asked, "and when are you going to +do it? I've a right to know that, I suppose?" + +"To think you can talk in that tone of voice to me--to me of all +people!" + +"To think you can force me to! And now you'll say you've seen things in +me you never thought were there, and turn it over in your mind--and--and +oh, it's cowardly--it's cruel. And you call yourself an honourable man +and could tell me and swear to me only yesterday that I was more to you +than anything else in the world!" + +"D'you know what you're doing?" he asked. "D'you want to make +me--there--I won't speak it--I won't come down to your level and forget +myself and say things that I'd break my heart to think of afterwards. I +must go now, or that girl will be wondering what the deuce has happened. +She's told her father already that you weren't happy or something; so I +suppose you must have been talking. I'll come in this evening. You'd +better go home now as quick as you can." + +He left her abruptly and she sat down shaking on a stone seat, to +prevent herself from falling. Grief and terror shared her spirit. She +watched him hurry away and, after he was gone, arose to find her legs +trembling under her. She went home slowly; then thoughts came to her +which restored her physical strength. Her anger gave place to fear and +her fear beckoned her to confide in somebody with greater power over +Raymond than her own. + +She returned to her mother, described her repulse and then declared her +intention of going immediately to see Miss Ironsyde. She concentrated +her thoughts on the lady, of whom Raymond had often spoken with +admiration and respect. She argued with herself that his aunt would only +have to hear her story to take her side; she told herself and her mother +that since Raymond had feared to approach his aunt, Sabina might most +reasonably do so. She grew calm and convinced herself that not only +might she do this, but that when Raymond heard of it, he would very +possibly be glad that the necessity of confession was escaped. His Aunt +Jenny was very fond of him, and would forgive him and help him to do +right. Sabina found herself stronger than Raymond, and that did not +astonish her, for she had suspected it before. + +Her mother, now in tears, agreed with her and she started on foot for +Bridport, walked quickly, and within an hour, reached the dwelling of +the Ironsydes--a large house standing hidden in the trees above the +town. + +Miss Ironsyde was reading and looking forward to her tea when Sabina +arrived. She had heard of the girl through Ernest Churchouse, but she +had never met her and did not connect her in any way with Raymond. Jenny +received her and was impressed with her beauty, for Sabina, albeit +anxious and nervous, looked handsome after her quick walk. + +"I've heard of you from your mother and Mr. Churchouse," said Miss +Ironsyde, shaking hands. "You come from him, I expect. I hope he is +well? Sit down by the fire." + +Her kindly manner and gentle face set the younger at ease. + +"He's quite well, thank you, miss. But I'm here for myself, not him. I'm +in a great deal of terrible anxiety, and you'll excuse me for coming, I +do hope, when I explain why I've come. It was understood between me and +Mr. Raymond Ironsyde very clearly yesterday that he was going to tell +you about it. He left me yesterday to do so. But I've seen him to-day +and I find he never came, so I thought I might venture to come even +though it was Sunday." + +"The better the day, the better the deed. Something is troubling you. +Why did not my nephew come, if he started to come?" + +"I don't know. Indeed, he should have come." + +"I'm afraid he starts to do a great many things he doesn't carry +through," said Jenny, and the words, lightly spoken, fell sinister on +Sabina's ear. + +"There are some things a man must carry through if he starts to do +them," she said quietly, and her tone threw light for Raymond's aunt. +She grew serious. + +"Tell me," she said. "I know my nephew very well and have his interests +greatly at heart. He is somewhat undisciplined still and has had to face +certain difficulties and problems, not much in themselves, but much to +one with his temperament." + +Then Sabina, who felt that she might be fighting for her life, set out +to tell her story. She proved at her best and spoke well. She kept her +temper and chose her words. The things that she had thought to speak, +indeed, escaped her, but her artless and direct narrative did not fail +to convince the listener. + +"You're more to him than anybody in the world, but me," she said; "but +I'm first, Miss Ironsyde. I must be first now. Even if to-day he had +been different--but what seemed so near yesterday is far off to-day. He +was harsh to-day. He terrified me, and I felt you'd think no worse of me +than you must, if I ventured to come. I don't ask you to believe +anything I say until you have seen him; but I'm not going to tell you +anything but the sacred truth. Thanks to Mr. Churchouse I was well +educated, and he took kind pains to teach me when I was young and +helped me to get fond of books. So when Mr. Raymond came to the Mill, he +found I was intelligent and well mannered. And he fell in love with me +and asked me to marry him. And I loved him very dearly, because I had +never seen or known a man with such a beautiful face and mind. And I +promised to marry him. He wished it kept secret and we loved in secret +and had great joy of each other for a long time. Then people began to +talk and I begged him to let it be known we were engaged; but he would +not. And then I told him--yesterday--that it must be known and that he +must marry me as quickly as he could, for right and honour. And he +seemed very glad--almost thankful I thought. He rejoiced about it and +said it was splendid news. Then he left me to come straight to you and I +was happy and thankful. But to-day I went to see him and he had changed +and was rough to me and said he must choose his own time! This to me, +who am going to be mother of his child next year! I nearly fainted when +he said that. He told me to go; and I went. But I could not sit down +under the shock; I had to do something and thought of you. So I came to +implore you to be on my side--not only for my sake, but his. It's a very +fearful thing--only I know how fearful, because I know all he's said and +promised; and well I know he meant every word while he was saying it. +And I do humbly beg you, miss, for love of him, to reason with him and +hear what he's got to say. And if he says a word that contradicts what +I've said, then I'll be content for you to believe him and I'll trouble +you no more. But he won't. He'll tell you everything I've told you. He +couldn't say different, for he's truthful and straight. And if it was +anything less than the whole of my future life I wouldn't have come. But +I feel there are things hidden in his mind I can't fathom--else after +what I told him yesterday, he never, never could have been cruel to me, +or changed his mind about coming to see you. And please forgive me for +taking up your time. Only knowing that you cared for him so much made +me come to you." + +Miss Ironsyde did not answer immediately. Her intuition inclined her to +believe every word at its face value; but her very readiness to do so +made her cautious. The story was one of every day and bore no marks of +improbability; yet among Raymond's faults she could not remember any +unreasonable relations with the other sex. It had always been one bright +spot in his dead father's opinion that the young man did not care about +drink or women, and was not intemperate, save in his passion for +athletic exercises and his abomination of work. It required no great +perception to see that Sabina was not the type that entangles men. She +had a beautiful face and a comely figure, but she belonged not to the +illusive, distracting type. She was obvious and lacked the quality which +attracts men far more than open features, regular modelling and steady +eyes. It was, in fact, such a face as Raymond might have admired, and +Sabina was such a girl as he might have loved--when he did fall in love. +She was apparently his prototype and complement in directness and +simplicity of outlook; that Miss Ironsyde perceived, and the more she +reflected the less she felt inclined to doubt. + +Sabina readily guessed the complex thoughts which kept the listener +silent after she had finished, and sat quietly without more speech until +Jenny chose to answer her. That no direct antagonism appeared was a +source of comfort. Unconsciously Sabina felt happier for the presence of +the other, though as yet she had heard no consoling word. Miss Ironsyde +regarded her thoughtfully; then she rose and rang the bell. Sabina's +heart sank for she supposed that she was to be immediately dismissed, +and that meant defeat in a quarter very dangerous. But her mind was set +at rest, for Jenny saw the fear in her eyes. + +"I'm ringing for tea," she said. "I will ask you to stop and drink a cup +with me. You've had a long walk." + +Then came tears; but Sabina felt such weakness did not become her and +smothered them. + +"Thank you, gratefully, Miss Ironsyde," she said. + +Tea was a silent matter, for Jenny had very little to say. Her speech +was just and kind, however. It satisfied Sabina, whose only concern was +justice now. She had spoken first. + +"I think--I'm sure it's only some hitch in Mr. Raymond's mind. He's been +so wonderful to me--so tender and thoughtful--and he's such a gentleman +in all he does and says, that I'm sure he never could dream of going +back on his sacred word. He wants to marry me. He'll never tell you +different from that. But he cannot realise, perhaps, the need--and yet I +won't say that neither, for, of course, he must realise." + +"Say nothing more at all," answered Jenny. "You have said everything +there was to say and I'm glad you have come to me and told me about it. +But I'm not going to say anything myself until I've seen my nephew. You +are satisfied that he will tell me the truth?" + +"Yes, I am. Don't think I don't trust him. Only if there's something +hidden from me, he might explain to you what it is, and what I've done +to anger him." + +Miss Ironsyde did not lack experience of men and could have thrown light +on Sabina's problem; but she had not the heart. She began to suspect it +was the girl's own compliance and his easy victory that had made Raymond +weary before the reckoning. There is nothing more tasteless than paying +after possession, unless the factors combine to make the payment a +pleasure and possession an undying delight. Miss Ironsyde indeed guessed +at the truth more accurately than she knew; but her sympathies were +entirely with Sabina and it was certain that if Raymond, when the time +came, could offer no respectable and sufficient excuse for a change of +mind, he would find little support from her. + +Of her intentions, however, she said nothing, nor indeed while Sabina +drank a cup of tea had Miss Ironsyde anything to say. She was not +unsympathetic, but she was guarded. + +"I will see Raymond to-morrow without fail," she said when Sabina +departed. "I share your belief, Miss Dinnett, that he is a truthful and +straightforward man. At least I have always found him so. And I feel +very sure that you are truthful and straightforward too. This will come +right. I will give you one word of advice, if I may, and ask one +question. Does anybody know of your engagement except my nephew and +myself?" + +"Only my mother. Yesterday he told me to go straight home and tell her. +And I did. Whether he's told anybody, I don't know." + +"Be sure he has not. He would tell nobody before me, I think. My advice, +then, is to say nothing more until you hear from him, or me." + +"I shouldn't, of course, Miss Ironsyde." + +"Good-bye," said the other kindly. "Be of good heart and be patient for +a few hours longer. It's hard to ask you to be, but you'll understand +the wisdom." + +When Sabina had gone, Miss Ironsyde nibbled a hot cake and reflected +deeply on an interview full of pain. The story--so fresh and terrific to +the teller--was older than the hills and presented no novel feature +whatever to her who listened. But in theory, Jenny Ironsyde entertained +very positive views concerning the trite situation. Whether she would be +able to sustain them before her nephew remained to be seen. She already +began to fear. She saw the dangers and traversed the arguments. Though +free from class prejudice, she recognised its weight in such a +situation. A break must mean Sabina's social ruin; but would union mean +ruin to Raymond? And if the problem was reduced to that, what became of +her theories? She decided that since her theories were based in +righteousness and justice, she must prefer his downfall to the woman's. +For if, indeed, he fell as the result of a mistaken marriage, he would +owe the fall to himself and his attitude after the event. He need not +fall. A tendency to judge him hardly, however, drew Jenny up. He had yet +to be heard. + +She went to her writing-desk and wrote him a letter directing him to see +her on the following day without fail. "It is exceedingly important, my +dear boy," she said, "and I shall expect you not later than ten o'clock +to-morrow morning." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AT CHILCOMBE + + +Meantime Raymond had kept his promise and devoted some hours to +Estelle's pleasure. The girl was proud of such an event, anticipated it +for many days and won great delight from it when it came. She perceived, +as they started, that her friend was perturbed and wondered dimly a +moment as to what Sabina could have said to annoy him; but he appeared +to recover quickly and was calm, cheerful and attentive to her chatter +after they had gone a mile. + +"To think you've never been to Chilcombe, Ray," she said. "You and +father go galloping after foxes, or shooting the poor pheasants and +partridges and don't care a bit for the wonderful tiny church at +Chilcombe--the tiniest in England almost, I do believe. And then there's +a beautiful thing in it--a splendid treasure; and many people think it +was a piece of one of the ships of the Spanish Armada, that was wrecked +on the Chesil Bank; and I dare say it is." + +"You must tell me about it." + +"I'm going to." + +"Not walking too fast for you?" + +"Not yet, but still you might go a little slower, or else I shall get +out of breath and shan't be able to tell you about things." + +He obeyed. + +"There are no flowers for you to show me now," he said. + +"No, but there are interesting things. For instance, away there to the +right is a wonderful field. And the old story is that everything that is +ever planted in it comes up red--red." + +"What nonsense." + +"Yes, it is, but it's creepy, nice nonsense. Because of the story. Once +there were two murderers at Swire village, and one turned upon the other +and told the secret of the murder and got his friend caught and hanged. +And the bad murderer was paid a great deal of money for telling the +Government about the other murderer; and that was blood-money, you see. +Then the bad murderer bought a field, and because he bought it with +blood-money, everything he planted came up red. I wish it was true; but, +of course, I know it can't be, though a good many things would come up +red, like sanfoin and scarlet clover and beetroots." + +"A jolly good yarn," declared Raymond. + +They tramped along through a network of winding lanes, and presently +Estelle pointed to a lofty hillock that rose above the high lands on +which they walked. + +"That's Shipton Hill," she said, pointing to the domelike mound. "And I +believe it's called so, because from one point it looks exactly like a +ship upside down." + +"I'll bet it is, and a very good name for it." + +The diminutive chapel of Chilcombe stood in a farmyard beside a lofty +knoll of trees. It was a stout little place of early English +architecture, lifted high above the surrounding country and having a +free horizon of sea and land. It consisted of a chancel, nave and south +porch. Its bell cote held one bell; and within was a Norman font, a +trefoil headed piscina, and sitting room for thirty-four people. + +"Isn't it a darling little church?" asked Estelle, her voice sunk to a +whisper; and Raymond nodded and said that it was 'ripping.' + +Then they examined the medieval treasure of the reredos--a panel of +cedar wood, some ten feet in length, that surmounted the altar. It was +set in a deep oaken frame, and displayed two circular drawings with an +oblong picture in the midst. In the left circle was the scourging of +Christ; in the right, the Redeemer rose from the tomb; while between +them the crucifixion had been depicted, with armies of mail-clad +soldiers about the cross. The winged symbols of the evangelists appeared +in other portions of the panel with various separate figures, and there +were indications that the work was unfinished. + +Estelle, who had often studied every line of it, gave her explanations +and ideas to Raymond, while he listened with great attention. Then they +went to the ancient manor house now converted into a farm; and there the +girl had friends who provided them with tea. She made no attempt to hide +her pride at her companion, for she was a lonely little person and the +expedition with Raymond had been a great event in her life. + +Exceedingly happy and contented, she walked beside him homeward in the +fading light and ceased not to utter her budding thoughts and +reflections. He proved a good listener and encouraged her, for she +amused him and really interested him. In common with her father, Raymond +was often struck by the fact that a child would consider subjects which +had never entered his head; but so it was, since Estelle's mind had been +wrought in a larger plan and compassed heights and depths, even in its +present immaturity, to which neither Waldron's nor Raymond's had +aspired. Yet the things she said were challenging, though often absurd. +Facts which he knew, though Estelle as yet did not, served to block her +ideals and explain her mysteries, yet he recognised the girl's simple +dreams, unvexed by practical considerations, or the 'nay' that real life +must make to them, were beautiful. + +She spoke a good deal about the Mill, where now her chief interest +centred; and Raymond spoke about it too. And presently, after brisk +interchange of ideas, she pointed out a fact that had not struck him. + +"It's a funny thing, Ray," she said, "but what you love best about the +works is the machinery; and what I love best about them is the people. +Yet I don't see how a machine can be as interesting as a girl." + +"Perhaps you're wrong, Estelle. Perhaps I wish you were right. If I +hadn't found a girl more interesting--" He broke off and turned from the +road she had innocently opened into his own thoughts. + +"Of course the people are more interesting, really. But because I'm keen +about the machines, you mustn't think I'm not keener still about the +people. You see the better the machines, the better time the people will +have, and the less hard and difficult and tiring for them will be their +work." + +She considered this and suddenly beamed. + +"How splendid! Of course I see. You _are_ clever, Ray. And it's really +the people you think of all the time." + +She gave him a look of admiration. + +"I expect presently they'll all see that; and gradually you'll get them +more and more beautiful machines, till their work is just pleasure and +nothing else. And do invent something to prevent Sabina and Nancy and +Alice hurting their hands. They have to stop the spindles so often, and +it wounds them, and Nancy gets chilblains in the winter, so it's simply +horrid for her." + +"That's right. It's one of the problems. I'm not forgetting these +things." + +"And if I think of anything may I tell you?" + +"I hope you will, Estelle." + +She talked him into a pleasant humour, and it took a practical form +unknown to Estelle, for before they had reached home again, there passed +through Raymond's mind a wave of contrition. The contrast between +Estelle's steadfast and unconscious altruism and his own irresolution +and selfishness struck into him. She made him think more kindly of +Sabina, and when he considered the events of that day from Sabina's +standpoint, he felt ashamed of himself. For it was not she who had done +anything unreasonable. The blame was his. He had practically lied to her +the day before, and to-day he had been harsh and cruel. She had a +right--the best possible right--to come and see him; she had good +reason to be angry on learning that he had not kept his word. + +He determined to see Sabina as quickly as possible, and about seven +o'clock in the evening after the return from the walk, he went down to +'The Magnolias' and rang the bell. Mrs. Dinnett came to the door, and +said something that hardened the young man's heart again very rapidly. + +Sabina's mother was unfriendly. Since her daughter returned, she had +learned all there was to know, and for the moment felt very +antagonistic. She had already announced the betrothal to certain of her +friends, and the facts that day had discovered made her both anxious and +angry. She was a woman of intermittent courage, but her paroxysms of +pluck soon passed and between them she was craven and easily cast down. +For the moment, however, she felt no fear and echoed the mood in which +Sabina had returned from Bridport an hour earlier. + +"Sabina can't be seen to-night," she said. "You wouldn't have anything +to do with her this afternoon, Mr. Ironsyde, and treated her like a +stranger; and now she won't see you." + +"Why not, Missis Dinnett?" + +"She's got her pride, and you've wounded it--and worse. And I may tell +you we're not the people to be treated like this. It's a very +ill-convenient business altogether, and if you're a gentleman and a man +of honour--" + +He cut her short. + +"Is she going to see me, or isn't she?" + +"She is not. She's very much distressed, and every reason to be, God +knows; and she's not going to see you to-night." + +Raymond took it quietly and his restraint instantly alarmed Mrs. +Dinnett. + +"It's not my fault, Mr. Ironsyde. But seeing how things are between you, +she was cruel put about this afternoon, and she's got to think of +herself if you can do things like that at such a moment." + +"She must try and keep her nerve better. There was no reason why I +should break promises. She ought to have waited for me to come to her." + +Mary Dinnett flamed again. + +"You can say that! And didn't she wait all the morning to see if you'd +come to her--and me? And as to promises--it don't trouble you to break +promises, else you'd have seen your family yesterday, as you told Sabina +you were going to do." + +"Is she going to the mill to-morrow?" he asked, ignoring the attack. + +"No, she ain't going to the mill. It isn't a right and fitting thing +that the woman you're going to marry and the mother of your future child +should be working in a spinning mill; and if you don't know it, others +do." + +"She told you then--against my wishes?" + +"And what are your wishes alongside of your acts? You're behaving very +wickedly, Mr. Ironsyde, and driving my daughter frantic; and if she +can't tell her mother her sorrows, who should know?" + +"She has disobeyed me and done a wrong thing," he said quietly. "This +may alter the whole situation, and you can tell her so." + +"For God's sake don't talk like that. Would you ruin the pair of us?" + +"What am I to do if I can't trust her?" he asked, and then went abruptly +away before Mary could answer. + +She was terribly frightened and soon drowned in tears, for when she +returned to Sabina and related the conversation, her daughter became +passionate and blamed her with a shower of bitter words. + +"I only told you, because I thought you had sense enough to keep your +mouth shut about it," she cried. "Now he'll think it's common news and +hate me--hate me for telling. You've ruined me--that's what you've +done, and I may as well go and make a hole in the water as not, for +he'll never marry me now." + +"You told Miss Ironsyde," sobbed the mother. + +"That was different. She'll keep it to herself, and I had to tell her to +show how serious it was for me. For anything less than that, she'd have +taken his side against me. And now he'll find I've been to her, and that +may--oh, my God, why didn't I keep quiet a little longer, and trust +him?" + +"You had every right to speak, when you found he was telling lies," said +Mrs. Dinnett. + +And while they quarrelled, Raymond returned to North Hill in a mood that +could not keep silence. He and Arthur Waldron smoked after supper, and +when Estelle had gone to bed, the younger spoke and took up the +conversation of the preceding night where he had dropped it. The speech +that now passed, however, proceeded on a false foundation, for Raymond +only told Arthur what he pleased and garbled the facts by withholding +what was paramount. + +"You were talking of Sabina Dinnett last night," he said. "What would +you think if I told you I was going to marry her, Waldron?" + +"A big 'if.' But you're not going to tell me so. You would surely have +told me yesterday if you had meant that." + +"Why shouldn't I if I want to?" + +"I always keep out of personal things--even with pals. I strained a +point with you last night for friendship, Ray. Is the deed done, or +isn't it? If it is, there is nothing left but to congratulate you and +wish you both luck." + +"If it isn't?" + +Mr. Waldron was cautious. + +"You're not going to draw me till I know as much as you know, old chap. +Either you're engaged, or you're not." + +"Say it's an open question--then what?" + +"How can I say it's an open question after this? I'm not going to say a +word about it." + +"Well, I thought we were engaged; but it seems there's a bit of doubt in +the air still." + +"Then you'd better clear that doubt, before you mention the subject +again. Until you and she agree about it, naturally it's nobody else's +business." + +"And yet everybody makes it their business, including you. Why did you +advise me to look out what I was doing last night?" + +"Because you're young, boy, and I thought you might make a mistake and +do an unsporting thing. That was nothing to do with your marrying her. +How was I to know such an idea was in your mind? Naturally nobody +supposed any question of that sort had arisen." + +"Why not?" + +Waldron felt a little impatient. + +"You know as well as I do. Men in your position don't as a rule +contemplate marriage with women, however charming and clever, who--. But +this is nonsense. I'm not going to answer your stupid questions." + +"Then you'd say--?" + +"No, I wouldn't. I'll say nothing about it. You're wanting to get +something for nothing now, and presently I daresay you'd remind me of +something I had said. We can go back to the beginning if you like, but +you're not going to play lawyer with me, Ray. It's in a nutshell, I +suppose. You're going to marry Miss Dinnett, or else you're not. Of +course, you know which. And if you won't tell me which, then don't ask +me to talk about it." + +"I've not decided." + +"Then drop it till you have." + +"You're savage now." + +"I'm never savage--you know that very well. Or, if I am, it's only with +men who are unsporting." + +"Let's generalise, then. I suppose you'd say a man was a fool to marry +out of his own class." + +"As a rule, yes. Because marriage is difficult enough at best without +complicating it like that. But there are exceptions. You can't find any +rule without exceptions." + +"I'll tell you the truth then, Arthur. I meant to marry Sabina. I +believed that she was the only being in the world worth living for. But +things have happened and now I'm doubtful whether it would be the best +possible." + +"And what about her? Is she doubtful too?" + +"I don't know. Anyway I've just been down to see her and she wouldn't +see me." + +"See her to-morrow then and clear it up. If there's a doubt, give +yourselves the benefit of the doubt. She's tremendously clever, Estelle +says, and she may be clever enough to believe it wouldn't do. And if she +feels like that, you'll be a fool to press it." + +They talked on and Waldron, despite his caution, was too ingenuous to +hide his real opinions. He made it very clear to Raymond that any such +match, in his judgment, would be attended by failure. But he spoke in +ignorance of the truth. + +The younger went to bed sick of himself. His instincts of right and +honour fought with his desires to be free. His heart sank now at the +prospect of matrimony. He assured himself that he loved Sabina as +steadfastly as ever he had loved her; but that there might yet be a +shared life of happiness for them without the matrimonial chains. He +considered whether it would be possible to influence Sabina in that +direction; he even went so far as to speculate on what would be his +future feelings for her if she insisted upon the sanctity of his +promises. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +CONFUSION + + +Mr. Churchouse was standing in his porch, when a postman brought him a +parcel. It was a book, and Ernest displayed mild interest. + +"What should that be, I wonder?" he said. Then he asked a question. + +"Have you seen Bert, the newspaper boy? For the second morning he +disappoints me." + +But Bert himself appeared at the same moment and the postman went his +way. + +"No newspaper on Saturday--how was that?" asked Mr. Churchouse. + +"I was dreadful ill and my mother wouldn't let me go outdoors," +explained the boy. "I asked Neddy Prichard to go down to the baker's and +get it for you; but he wouldn't." + +"Then I say no more, except to hope you're better." + +"It's my froat," explained Bert, a sturdy, flaxen youngster of ten. + +"One more point I should like to raise while you are here. Have you +noticed that garden chair in the porch?" + +"Yes, I have, and wondered why 'twas left there." + +"Wonder no more, Bert. It is there that you may put the paper upon it, +rather than fling the news on a dirty door-mat." + +"Fancy!" said Bert. "I never!" + +"Bear it in mind henceforth, and, if you will delay a moment, I will +give you some black currant lozenges for your throat." + +A big black cat stood by his master listening to this conversation and +Bert now referred to him. + +"Would thicky cat sclow me?" he asked. + +"No, Bert--have no fear of Peter Grim," answered Mr. Churchouse. "His +looks belie him. He has a forbidding face but a friendly heart." + +"He looks cruel fierce." + +"He does, but though a great sportsman, he has a most amiable nature." + +Having ministered to Bert, Mr. Churchouse retired with his book and +paper. Then came Mary Dinnett, red-eyed and in some agitation. But for a +moment he did not observe her trouble. He had opened his parcel and +revealed a volume bound in withered calf and bearing signs of age and +harsh treatment. + +"A work I have long coveted--it is again 'a well-wisher,' Missis +Dinnett, who has sent it to me. There is much kindness in the world +still." + +But Mrs. Dinnett was too preoccupied with her own affairs to feel +interest in Ernest's pleasant little experience. By nature pessimistic, +original doubts, when she heard of Sabina's engagement, were now +confirmed and she felt certain that her daughter would never become +young Ironsyde's wife. Regardless of the girl's injunction to silence, +and feeling that both for herself and Sabina this disaster might alter +the course of their lives and bring her own hairs with sorrow to the +grave, Mary now took the first opportunity to relate the facts to Mr. +Churchouse. They created in him emotions of such deep concern that +neither his book nor his newspaper were opened on the day of the +announcement. + +Mrs. Dinnett rambled through her disastrous recital, declared that for +her own part, she had already accepted the horror of it and was prepared +to face the worst that could happen, and went so far as to predict what +Ernest himself would probably do, now that the scandal had reached his +ears. She was distraught and for the moment appeared almost to revel in +the accumulated horrors of the situation. + +She told the story of promise and betrayal and summed up with one +agonised prophecy. + +"And now you'll cast her out--you'll turn upon us and throw us out--I +know you will." + +"'Cast her out'? Good God of Mercy! Who am I to cast anybody out, Missis +Dinnett? Shall an elderly and faulty fellow creature rise in judgment at +the weakness of youth? What have I done in the past to lead you to any +such conclusion? I feel very certain, indeed, that you are permitting +yourself a debauch of misery--wallowing in it, Mary Dinnett--as +misguided wretches often wallow in drink out of an unmanly despair at +their own human weakness. Fortify yourself! Approach the question on a +higher plane. Remember no sparrow falls to the ground without the +cognisance of its Creator! As for Sabina, I love her and have devoted +many hours to her education. I also love Raymond Ironsyde--for his own +sake as well as his family's. I am perfectly certain that you exaggerate +the facts. Such a thing is quite incredible. Shall I quarrel with a +gracious flower because a wandering bee has set a seed? He may be an +inconsiderate and greedy bee--but--" + +Mr. Churchouse broke off, conscious that his simile would land him in +difficulties. + +"No," he said, "we must not pursue this subject on a pagan or poetical +basis. We are dealing with two young Christians, Missis Dinnett--a man +and a woman of good nurture and high principle. I will never +believe--not if he said it himself--that Raymond Ironsyde would commit +any such unheard-of outrage. You say that he has promised to marry her. +That is enough for me. The son of Henry Ironsyde will keep his promise. +Be sure of that. For the moment leave the rest in my hands. Exercise +discretion, and pray, pray keep silence about it. I do trust that nobody +has heard anything. Publicity might complicate the situation seriously." + +As a matter of fact Mrs. Dinnett had told everything to her bosom +friend--a woman who dwelt in a cottage one hundred yards from 'The +Magnolias.' She did not mention this, however. + +"If you say there's hope, I'll try to believe it," she answered. "The +man came here last night and Sabina wouldn't see him, and God knows +what'll be the next thing." + +"Leave the next thing to me." + +"She's given notice at the works. He told her to." + +"Of course--quite properly. Now calm down and fetch me my walking +boots." + +In half an hour Ernest was on his way to Bridport. As Sabina, before +him, his instinct led to Miss Ironsyde and he felt that the facts might +best be imparted to her. If anybody had influence with Raymond, it was +she. His tone of confidence before Mrs. Dinnett had been partly assumed, +however. His sympathies were chiefly with Sabina, for she was no +ordinary mill hand; she had enjoyed his tuition and possessed native +gifts worthy of admiration. But she was as excitable as her mother, and +if this vital matter went awry, there could be no doubt that her life +must be spoiled. + +Mr. Churchouse managed to get a lift on his way from a friendly farmer, +and he arrived at Bridport Town Hall soon after ten o'clock. While +driving he put the matter from his mind for a time, and his acquaintance +started other trains of thought. One of them, more agreeable to a man of +his temperament than the matter in hand, still occupied his mind when he +stood before Jenny Ironsyde. + +"You!" she said. "I had an idea you never came into the world till +afternoon." + +"Seldom--seldom. I drove a good part of the way with Farmer Gate, and he +made a curious remark. He said that a certain person might as well be +dead for all the good he was. Now what constitutes life? I've been +asking myself that." + +"It's certainly difficult to decide about some people, whether they're +alive or dead. Some make you doubt if they ever were alive." + +"A good many certainly don't know they're born; and plenty don't know +they're dead," he declared. + +"To be in your grave is not necessarily to be dead, and to be in your +shop, or office, needn't mean that you're alive," admitted the lady. + +"Quite so. Who doesn't know dead people personally, and go to tea with +them, and hear their bones rattle? And whose spirit doesn't meet in +their thoughts, or works, the dead who are still living?" + +"Most true, I'm sure; but you didn't come to tell me that?" + +"No; yet it has set me wondering whether, perhaps, I am dead--at any +rate deader than I need be." + +"We are probably all deader than we need be." + +"But to-day there has burst into my life a very wakening thing. It may +have been sent. For mystery is everywhere, and what's looking +exceedingly bad for those involved, may be good for me. And yet, one can +hardly claim to win goodness out of the threatened misfortunes to those +who are dear to one." + +"What's the matter? Something's happened, or you wouldn't come to see me +so early." + +"Something has happened," he answered, "and one turns to you in times of +stress, just as one used to turn to your dear brother, Henry. You have +character, shrewdness and decision." + +Miss Ironsyde saw light. + +"You've come for Raymond," she said. + +"Now how did you divine that? But, as a matter of fact, I've come for +somebody else. A very serious thing has happened and if we older +heads--" + +"Who told you about it?" + +"This morning, an hour ago, it was broken to me by Sabina's mother." + +"Tell me just what she told you, Ernest." + +He obeyed and described the interview exactly. + +"I cannot understand that, for Sabina saw me last night and explained +the situation. I impressed upon her the importance of keeping the matter +as secret as possible for the present." + +"Nevertheless Mary Dinnett told me. She is a very impulsive person--so +is Sabina; but in Sabina's case there is brain power to control impulse; +in her mother's case there is none." + +"I'm much annoyed," declared Miss Ironsyde--"not of course, that you +should know, but that there should be talking. Please go home and tell +them both to be quiet. This chattering is most dangerous and may defeat +everything. Last night I wrote to Raymond directing him to come and see +me immediately. I did not tell him why; but I told him it was urgent. I +made the strongest appeal possible. When you arrived, I thought it was +he. He should have been here an hour ago." + +"If he is coming, I will go," answered Ernest. "I don't wish to meet him +at present. He has done very wrongly--wickedly, in fact. The question is +whether marriage with Sabina--" + +"There is no question about that in my opinion," declared the lady. "I +am a student of character, and had she been a different sort of girl--. +But even as it is I suspend judgment until I have seen Raymond. It is +quite impossible, however, after hearing her, to see what excuse he can +offer." + +"She is a very superior girl indeed, and very clever and refined. I +always hoped she would marry a schoolmaster, or somebody with cultured +tastes. But her great and unusual beauty doubtless attracted Raymond." + +"I think you'd better go home, Ernest. I'll write to you after I've seen +the boy. Do command silence from both of them. I'm very angry and very +distressed, but really nothing can be done till we hear him. My +sympathy is entirely with Sabina. Let her go on with her life for a day +or two and--" + +"She's changed her life and left the Mill. I understand Raymond told her +to do so." + +"That is a good sign, I suppose. If she's done that, the whole affair +must soon be known. But we talk in the dark." + +Mr. Churchouse departed, forgot his anxieties in a second-hand book shop +and presently returned home. + +But he saw nothing of Raymond on the way; and Miss Ironsyde waited in +vain for her nephew's arrival. He did not come, and her letter, instead +of bringing him immediately as she expected, led to a very different +course of action on his part. + +For, taken with Sabina's refusal to see him, he guessed correctly at +what had inspired it. Sabina had threatened more than once in the past +to visit Miss Ironsyde and he had forbidden her to do so. Now he knew +from her mother why she had gone, and while not surprised, he clutched +at the incident and very quickly worked it into a tremendous grievance +against the unlucky girl. His intelligence told him that he could not +fairly resent her attempt to win a powerful friend at this crisis in her +fortunes; but his own inclinations and growing passion for liberty +fastened on it and made him see a possible vantage point. He worked +himself up into a false indignation. He knew it was false, yet he +persevered in it, as though it were real, and acted as though it were +real. + +He tore up his aunt's letter and ignored it. + +Instead of going to Bridport, he went to his office and worked as usual. + +At dinner time he expected Sabina, but she did not come and he heard +from Mr. Best that she was not at the works. + +"She came in here and gave notice on Saturday afternoon," said the +foreman, shortly, and turned away from Raymond even as he spoke. + +Then the young man remembered that he had bade Sabina do this. His +anger increased, for now everybody must soon hear of what had happened. + +In a sort of subconscious way he felt glad, despite his irritation, at +the turn of events, for they might reconcile him with his conscience and +help to save the situation in the long run. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE LOVERS' GROVE + + +A little matter now kindled a great fire, and a woman's reasonable +irritation, which he had himself created, produced for Raymond Ironsyde +a very complete catastrophe. + +His aunt, indeed, was not prone to irritation. Few women preserved a +more level mind, or exhibited that self-control which is a prime product +of common-sense; but, for once, it must be confessed that Jenny broke +down and did that which she had been the first to censure in another. +The spark fell on sufficient fuel and the face of the earth was changed +for Raymond before he slept that night. + +For his failure to answer her urgent appeal, his contemptuous disregard +of the strongest letter she had ever written, annoyed her exceedingly. +It argued a callous indifference to her own wishes and a spirit of +extraordinary unkindness. She had been a generous aunt to him all his +life; he had very much for which to thank her; and yet before this +pressing petition he could remain dumb. That his mind was disordered she +doubted not; but nothing excused silence at such a moment. + +After lunch on this day Daniel spent some little while with his aunt, +and then when a post which might have brought some word from Raymond +failed to do so, Jenny's gust of temper spoke. It was the familiar case +of a stab at one who has annoyed us; but to point such stabs, the ear of +a third person is necessary, and before she had quite realised what she +was doing, Miss Ironsyde sharply blamed her nephew to his brother. + +"The most inconsiderate, selfish person on earth is Raymond," she said +as a servant brought her two letters, neither from the sinner. "I asked +him--and prayed him--to see me to-day about a subject of the gravest +importance to him and to us all; and he neither comes nor takes the +least notice of my letter. He is hopeless." + +"What's he done now?" + +"I don't know exactly--at least--never mind. Leave it for the minute. +Sorry, I was cross. You'll know what there is to know soon enough. If +there's trouble in store, we must put a bold face on it and think of +him." + +"I rather hoped things were going smoother. He seems to be getting more +steady and industrious." + +"Perhaps he reserved his industry for the works and leaves none for +anything else, then," she answered; "but don't worry before you need." + +"You'll tell me if there's anything I ought to know, Aunt Jenny." + +"He'll tell you himself, I should hope. And if he doesn't, no doubt +there will be plenty of other people to do so. But don't meet trouble +half way. Shall you be back to tea?" + +"Probably not. I'm going to Bridetown this afternoon. I have an +appointment with Best. He was to see some machinery that sounded all +right; but he's very conservative and I can always trust him to be on +the safe side. One doesn't mean to be left behind, of course." + +"Always ask yourself what your father would have thought, Daniel. And +then you'll not make any mistakes." + +He nodded. + +"I ask myself that often enough, you may be sure." + + * * * * * + +An hour later the young man had driven his trap to the Mill and listened +to John Best on the subject of immediate interest. The foreman decided +against any innovation for the present and Daniel was glad. Then he +asked for his brother. + +"Is Mister Raymond here?" + +"He was this morning; but he's not down this afternoon. At least he +wasn't when I went to his office just before you came." + +"Everything's all right, I suppose?" + +Mr. Best looked uncomfortable. + +"I'm afraid not, sir; but I hate talking. You'd better hear it from +him." + +Daniel's heart sank. + +"Tell me," he said. "You're one of us, John--my father's right hand for +twenty years--and our good is your good. If you know of trouble, tell me +the truth. It may be better for him in the long run. Miss Ironsyde was +bothered about him, to-day." + +"If it's better for him, then I'll speak," answered Best. "He's a very +clever young man and learning fast now. He's buckling to and getting on +with it. But--Sabina Dinnett, our first spinner, gave notice on +Saturday. She's not here to-day." + +"What does that mean?" + +"You'd better ask them that know. I've heard a lot of rumours, and they +may be true or not, and I hope they're not. But if they are, I suppose +it means the old story where men get mixed up with girls." + +Daniel was silent, but his face flushed. + +"Don't jump to the conclusion it's true," urged the foreman. "Hear both +sides before you do anything about it." + +"I know it's true." + +Mr. Best did not answer. + +"And you know it's true," continued the younger. + +"What everybody says nobody should believe," ventured Best. "What +happened was this--Sabina came in on Saturday afternoon, when I was +working in my garden, and gave notice. Not a month, but to go right +away. Of course I asked her why, but she wouldn't tell me. She was as +happy as a lark about it, and what she said was that I'd know the reason +very soon and be the first to congratulate her. Of course, I thought she +was going to be married. And still I hope she is. That's all you can +take for truth. The rest is rumour. You can guess how a place like this +will roll it over their tongues." + +"I'll go and see Mister Churchouse." + +"Do, sir. You can trust him to be charitable." + +Daniel departed; but he did not see Ernest Churchouse. The antiquary was +not at home and, instead, he heard Mrs. Dinnett, who poured the +approximate truth into his ears with many tears. His brother had +promised to marry Sabina, but on hearing the girl was with child, had +apparently refused to keep his engagement. + +Then it was Daniel Ironsyde's turn to lose his temper. He drove straight +to North Hill House, found his brother in the garden with Estelle +Waldron, took him aside and discharged him from the Mill. + +Raymond had been considering the position and growing a little calmer. +With a return of more even temper, he had written to Miss Ironsyde and +promised to be with her on the following evening without fail. He had +begged her to keep an open mind so far as he was concerned and he hoped +that when the time came, he might be able to trust to her lifelong +friendship. What he was going to say, he did not yet know; but he +welcomed the brief respite and was in a good temper when his brother +challenged him. + +The attack was direct, blunt and even brutal. It burst like a +thunder-bolt on Raymond's head, staggered him, and then, of course, +enraged him. + +"I won't keep you," said Daniel. "I only want to know one thing. Sabina +Dinnett's going to have a baby. Are you the father of it, or aren't +you?" + +"What the devil business is that of yours?" + +"As one of my mill hands, I consider it is my business. One thinks of +them as human beings as well as machines--machines for work, or +amusement--according to the point of view. So answer me." + +"You cold-blooded cur! What are you but a machine?" + +"Answer my question, please." + +"Go to hell." + +"You blackguard! You do a dirty, cowardly thing like this, despite my +warnings and entreaties; you foul our name and drag it in the gutter and +then aren't man enough to acknowledge it." + +The younger trembled with passion. + +"Shut your mouth, or I'll smash your face in!" he cried. + +His sudden fury calmed his brother. + +"You refuse to answer, and that can only mean one thing, Raymond. Then +I've done with you. You've dragged us all through the mud--made us a +shame and a scandal--proud people. You can go--the further off, the +better. I dismiss you and I never want to see your face again." + +"Don't worry--you never shall. God's my judge, I'd sooner sweep a +crossing than come to you for anything. I know you well enough. You +always meant to do this. You saved your face when my father robbed me +from the grave and left me a pauper--you saved your face by putting me +into the works; but you never meant me to stop there. You only waited +your chance to sack me and keep the lot for yourself. And you've jumped +at this and were glad to hear of this--damned glad, I'll bet!" + +Daniel did not answer, but turned his back on his brother, and a minute +or two later was driving away. When he had gone, the panting Raymond +went to his room and flung himself on his bed. Under his cooling anger +again obtruded the old satisfaction--amorphous, vile, not to be +named--that he had felt before. This brought ultimate freedom a step +nearer. If ostracism and punishment were to be his portion, then let him +earn them. If the world--his world--was to turn against him, let the +reversal be for something. Poverty would be a fair price for liberty, +and those who now seemed so ready to hound him out of his present life +and crush his future prospects, should live to see their error. For a +time he felt savagely glad that this had happened. He regretted his +letter to his aunt; he thought of packing his portmanteau on the instant +and vanishing for ever; yet time and reflection abated his dreams. He +began to grow a little alarmed. He even regretted his harsh words to his +brother before the twilight fell. + +Then his mind was occupied with Sabina; but Sabina had wounded him to +the quick, for it was clear she and her mother had shamelessly published +the truth. Sabina, then, had courted ruin. She deserved it. He soon +argued that the disaster of the day was Sabina's work, and he dismissed +her with an oath from his thoughts. Then he turned to Miss Ironsyde and +found keen curiosity waken to know what she was thinking and feeling +about him. Did she know that Daniel had dismissed him? Could she have +listened to so grave a determination on Daniel's part and taken no step +to prevent it? + +He found himself deeply concerned at being flung out of his brother's +business. The more he weighed all that this must mean and its effect +upon his future, the more overwhelmed he began to be. He had worked very +hard of late and put all his energy and wits into spinning. He was +beginning to understand its infinite possibilities and to see how, +Daniel's trust once won, he might have advanced their common welfare. + +From this point he ceased to regret his letter to Miss Ironsyde, but was +glad that he had written it. He now only felt concerned that the +communication was not penned with some trace of apology for his past +indifference to her wishes. He began to see that his sole hope now lay +with his aunt, and the supreme point of interest centred in her attitude +to the situation. + +He despatched a second letter, confirming the first, and expressing +some contrition at his behaviour to her. But this rudeness he declared +to have been the result of peculiarly distressing circumstances; and he +assured her, that when the facts came to her ears, she would find no +difficulty in forgiving him. + +Their meeting was fixed for the following evening, and until it had +taken place, Raymond told nobody of what had happened to him. He went to +work next morning, to learn indirectly whether Best had heard of his +dismissal; but it seemed the foreman had not. The circumstance cheered +Raymond; he began to hope that his brother had changed his mind, and the +possibility put him into a sanguine mood at once. He found himself full +of good resolutions; he believed that this might prove the turning +point; he expected that Daniel would arrive at any moment and he was +prepared frankly to express deep regret for his conduct if he did so. +But Daniel did not come. + +Sabina constantly crossed Raymond's mind, to be as constantly dismissed +from it. He was aware that something definite must be done; but he +determined not even to consider the situation until he had seen his +aunt. A hopeful mood, for which no cause existed, somehow possessed him +upon this day. For no reason and spun of nothing in the least tangible, +there grew around him an ambient intuition that he was going to get out +of this fix with the help of Jenny Ironsyde. The impression created a +wave of generosity to Sabina. He felt a large magnanimity. He was +prepared to do everything right and reasonable. He felt that his aunt +would approve the line he purposed to take. She was practical, and he +assured himself that she would not consent to pronounce the doom of +marriage upon him. + +In this sanguine spirit Raymond went to Bridport and dined at 'The +Tiger' before going to see his aunt at the appointed time. And here +there happened events to upset the level optimism that had ruled him all +day. Raymond had the little back-parlour to himself and Richard Gurd +waited upon him. They spoke of general subjects and then the older man +became personal. + +"If you'll excuse me, Mister Raymond," he said, "if you'll excuse me, as +one who's known you ever since you went out of knickers, sir, I'd +venture to warn you as a good friend, against a lot that's being said in +Bridetown and Bridport, too. You know how rumours fly about. But a good +deal more's being said behind your back than ought to be said; and +you'll do well to clear it up. And by the same token, Mister Motyer's +opening his mouth the widest. As for me, I got it from Job Legg over the +way at 'The Seven Stars'; and he got it from a young woman at Bridetown +Mills, niece of Missis Northover. So these things fly about." + +Raymond was aware that Richard Gurd held no puritan opinions. He +possessed tolerance and charity for all sorts and conditions, and left +morals alone. + +"And what did you do, Dick? I should think you'd learned by this time to +let the gossip of a public-house go in at one ear and out of the other." + +"Yes--for certain. I learned to do that before you were born; but when +things are said up against those I value and respect, it's different. +I've told three men they were liars, to-day, and I may have to tell +thirty so, to-morrow." + +Raymond felt his heart go slower. + +"What the deuce is the matter?" + +"Just this: they say you promised to marry a mill girl at Bridetown +and--the usual sort of thing--and, knowing you, I told them it was a +lie." + +The young man uttered a scornful ejaculation. + +"Tell them to mind their own business," he said. "Good heavens--what a +storm in a teacup it is! They couldn't bleat louder if I'd committed a +murder." + +"There's more to it than to most of these stories," explained Richard. +"You see it sounds a very disgraceful sort of thing, you being your +brother's right hand at the works." + +"I'm not that, anyway." + +"Well, you're an Ironsyde, Mister Raymond, and to have a story of this +sort told about an Ironsyde is meat and drink for the baser sort. So I +hope you'll authorise me to contradict it." + +"Good God--is there no peace, even here?" burst out Raymond. "Can even a +man I thought large-minded and broad-minded and all the rest of it, go +on twaddling about this as if he was an old washer-woman? Here--get me +my bill--I've finished. And if you're going to begin preaching to people +who come here for their food and drink, you'd better chuck a pub and +start a chapel." + +Mr. Gurd was stricken dumb. A thousand ghosts from the grave had not +startled him so much as this rebuke. Indeed, in a measure, he felt the +rebuke deserved, and it was only because he held the rumour of Raymond's +achievements an evil lie, that he had cautioned the young man, and with +the best motives, desired to put him on his guard. But that the story +should be true--or based on truth--as now appeared from Raymond's anger, +had never occurred to Richard. Had he suspected such a thing, he must +have deplored it, but he certainly would not have mentioned it. + +He went out now without a word and held it the wisest policy not to see +his angry customer again that night. He sent Raymond's account in by a +maid, and the young man paid it and went out to keep his appointment +with Miss Ironsyde. + +But again his mood was changed. Gurd had hit him very hard. Indeed, no +such severe blow had been struck as this unconscious thrust of +Richard's. For it meant that an incident that Raymond was striving to +reconcile with the ways of youth--a sowing of wild oats not destined to +damage future crops--had appeared to the easy-going publican as a thing +to be stoutly contradicted--an act quite incompatible with Raymond's +record and credit. Coming from Gurd this attitude signified a great +deal; for if the keeper of a sporting inn took such a line about the +situation, what sort of line were others likely to take? Above all, what +sort of line would his Aunt Jenny take? His nebulous hopes dwindled. He +began to fear that she would find the honour of the family depended not +on his freeing himself from Sabina, but the contrary. + +And he was right. Miss Ironsyde welcomed him kindly, but left no shadow +of doubt as to her opinion; and the fact that the situation had been +complicated by publicity, which in the last resort he argued, by no +means turned her from her ultimatum. + +"Sit down and smoke and listen to me, Raymond," she began, after kissing +him. "I forgive you, once for all, that you could be so rude to me and +fail to see me despite my very pressing letter. No doubt some whim or +suspicion inspired you to be unkind. But that doesn't matter now. That's +a trifle. We've got to thresh out something that isn't a trifle, +however, for your honour and good name are both involved--and with +yours, ours." + +"I argue that a great deal too much is being made of this, Aunt Jenny." + +"I hope so--I hope everything has been exaggerated through a +misunderstanding. Delay in these cases is often simply fatal, Raymond, +because it gives a lie a start. And if you give a lie a start, it's +terribly hard to catch. Sabina Dinnett came to see me on Sunday +afternoon and I trust with all my heart she told me what wasn't true." + +He felt a sudden gleam of hope and she saw it. + +"Don't let any cheerful feeling betray you; this is far from a cheerful +subject for any of us. But again, I say, I hope that Sabina Dinnett has +come to wrong conclusions. What she said was this. Trust me to be +accurate, and when I have done, correct her statement if it is false. +Frankly, I thought her a highly intelligent young woman, with grace of +mind and fine feeling. She was fighting for her future and she did it +like a gentlewoman." + +Miss Ironsyde then related her conversation with Sabina and Raymond knew +it to be faithful in every particular. + +"Is that true, or isn't it?" she concluded. + +"Yes, it's perfectly true, save in her assumption that I had changed my +mind," he said. "What I may have done since, doesn't matter; but when I +left her, I had not changed my mind in the least; if she had waited for +me to act in my own time, and come to see you, and so on, as I meant to +do, and broken it to Daniel myself, instead of hearing him break it to +me and dismiss me as though I were a drunken groom, then I should have +kept my word to her. But these things, and her action, and the fact that +she and her fool of a mother have bleated the story all over the +county--these things have decided me it would be a terrible mistake to +marry Sabina now. She's not what I thought. Her true character is not +trustworthy--in fact--well, you must see for yourself that they don't +trust me and are holding a pistol to my head. And no man is going to +stand that. We could never be married now, because she hates me. There's +another reason too--a practical one." + +"What?" + +"Why, the best. I'm a pauper. Daniel has chucked me out of the works." + +Miss Ironsyde showed very great distress. + +"Do you honestly mean that you could look the world in the face if you +ruin this woman?" + +"Why use words like that? She's not ruined, any more than thousands of +other women." + +"I'm ashamed of you, Raymond. I hope to God you've never said a thing so +base as that to anybody but me. And if I thought you meant it, I think +it would break my heart. But you don't mean it. You loved the girl and +you are an honourable man without a shadow on your good name so far. +You loved Sabina, and you do love her, and if you said you didn't a +thousand times, I should not believe it. You're chivalrous and generous, +and that's the precious point about you. Granted that she made a +mistake, is her mistake to wreck her whole life? Just think how she +felt--what a shock you gave her. You part with her on Saturday the real +Raymond, fully conscious that you must marry her at once--for her own +honour and yours. Then on Sunday, you are harsh and cruel--for no +visible reason. You frighten her; you raise up horrible fears and +dangers in her young, nervous spirit. She is in a condition prone to +terrors and doubts, and upon this condition you came in a surly mood and +imply that you yourself are changed. What wonder she lost her head? Yet +I do not think that it was to lose her head to come to me. She had often +heard you speak of me. She knew that I loved you well and faithfully. +She felt that if anybody could put this dreadful fear to rest, I should +be the one. Don't say she wasn't right." + +He listened attentively and began to feel something of his aunt's view. + +"Forgive her first for coming to me. If mistaken, admit at least it was +largely your own fault that she came. She has nothing but love and +devotion for you. She told nothing but the truth." + +He asked a question, which seemed far from the point, but none the less +indicated a coming change of attitude. At any rate Jenny so regarded it. + +"What d'you think of her?" + +"I think she's a woman of naturally fine character. She has brains and +plenty of sense and if she had not loved you unspeakably and been very +emotional, I do not think this could have happened to her." + +She talked on quietly, but with the unconscious force of one who feels +her subject to the heart. The man began to yield--not for love of +Sabina, but for love of himself. For Miss Ironsyde continued to make +him see his own position must be unbearable if he persisted, while first +she implied and finally declared, that only through marriage with Sabina +could his own position be longer retained. + +But he put forward his dismissal as an argument against marriage. + +"Whatever I feel, it's too late now," he explained. "Daniel heard some +distorted version of the truth in Bridetown, and, of course, believed +it, and came to me white with rage and sacked me. Well, you must see +that alters the case if nothing else does. Granted, for the sake of +argument, that I can overlook the foolish, clumsy way she and her mother +have behaved and go on as we were going, how am I to live and keep a +wife on nothing?" + +"That is a small matter," she answered. "You need not worry about it in +the least. And you know in your heart, my dear, you need not. I have had +plenty of time to think over this, and I have thought over it. And I am +very ready and willing to come between you and any temporal trouble of +that sort. As to Daniel, when he hears that you are going to marry and +always meant to do so, it must entirely change his view of the +situation. He is just and reasonable. None can deny that." + +"You needn't build on Daniel, however. I'd rather break stones than go +back to the Mill after what he said to me." + +"Leave him, then. Leave him out of your calculation and come to me. As I +tell you, I've thought about it a great deal, and first I think Sabina +is well suited to be a good wife to you. With time and application she +will become a woman that any man might be proud to marry. I say that +without prejudice, because I honestly think it. She is adaptable, and, I +believe, would very quickly develop into a woman in every way worthy of +your real self. And I am prepared to give you five hundred a year, +Raymond. After all, why not? All that I have is yours and your +brother's, some day. And since you need it now, you shall have it now." + +At another time he had been moved by this generosity; to-night, knowing +what it embraced, he was not so grateful as he might have been. His +instinct was to protest that he would not marry Sabina; but shame +prevented him from speaking, since he could advance no decent reason for +such a change of mind. He felt vaguely, dimly at the bottom of his soul +that, despite events, he ought not to marry her. He believed, apart from +his own intense aversion from so doing now, that marriage with him would +not in the long run conduce to Sabina's happiness. But where were the +words capable of lending any conviction to such a sentiment? Certainly +he could think of none that would change his aunt's opinion. + +Sullenly he accepted her view with outward acknowledgment and inward +resentment. Then she said a thing that nearly made him rebel, since it +struck at his pride, indicated that Miss Ironsyde was sure of her +ground, showed that she had assumed the outcome of their meeting before +the event. + +First, however, he thanked her. + +"Of course, it is amazingly good and kind. I don't like to accept it. +But I suppose it would hurt you more if I didn't than if I do. It's a +condition naturally that I marry Sabina--I quite understand that. Well, +I must then. I might have been a better friend to her if I hadn't +married; and might love her better and love her longer for that matter. +But, of course, I can't expect you to understand that. I only want to be +sporting, and a man's idea of being sporting isn't the same--" + +"Now, now--you're forgetting and talking nonsense, Raymond. You really +are forgetting. A man's idea of being 'sporting' does not mean telling +stories to a trusting and loving girl, does it? I don't want anybody to +judge you but yourself. I am perfectly content to leave it to your own +conscience. And very sure I am that if you ask yourself the question, +you'll answer it as it should be answered. So sure, indeed, that I have +done a definite thing about it, which I will tell you in a moment. For +the rest you must find a house where you please and be married as soon +as you can. And when Daniel understands what a right and proper thing +you're doing, I think you'll very soon find all will be satisfactory +again in that quarter." + +"Thank you, I'm sure. But don't speak to him yet. I won't ask for +favours nor let you, Aunt Jenny. If he comes to me, well and good--I +certainly won't go to him. As to Sabina, we'll clear out and get married +in a day or two." + +"Not before a Registrar," pleaded Miss Ironsyde. + +"Before the Devil I should think," he said, preparing to leave her. + +She chid him and then mentioned certain preparations made for this +particular evening. + +"Don't be cross any more, and let me see you value my good will and +love, Ray, by doing what I'm going to ask you to do, now. So sure was I +that, when the little details were cleared up, you would feel with me, +and welcome your liberty from constraint, and return to Sabina with the +good news, that I asked her to meet you to-night--this very night, my +dear, so that you might go home with her and make her happy. She had tea +with me--I made her come, and then she went to friends, and she will be +in the Lovers' Grove waiting for you at ten o'clock--half an hour from +now." + +His impulse was to protest, but he recognised the futility for so doing. +He felt baffled and cowed and weary. He hated himself because, weakened +by poverty, an old woman had been too much for him. He clutched at a +hope. Perhaps by doing as his aunt desired and going through with this +thing, he would find his peace of mind return and a consciousness that, +after all, to keep his promise was the only thing which would renew his +self-respect. It might prove the line of least resistance to take this +course. He felt not sorry at the immediate prospect of meeting Sabina. +In his present mood that might be a good thing to happen. Annoyance +passed, and when he did take leave it was with more expressions of +gratitude. + +"I don't know why you are so extraordinarily good to me," he said. "I +certainly don't deserve it. But the least I can do is throw up the +sponge and do as you will, and trust your judgment. I don't say I agree +with you, but I'm going to do it; and if it's a failure, I shan't blame +you, Aunt Jenny." + +"It won't be a failure. I'm as sure as I'm sure of anything that it will +be a splendid success, Raymond. Come again, very soon, and tell me what +you decide about a house. And remember one thing--don't fly away and +take a house goodness knows where. Always reckon with the possibility--I +think certainty--that Daniel will soon be friendly, when he hears you're +going to be married." + +He left her very exhausted, and if her spirits sank a little after his +departure, Raymond's tended to rise. The night air and moonlight brisked +him up; he felt a reaction towards Sabina and perceived that she must +have suffered a good deal. He threw the blame on her mother. Once out of +Bridetown things would settle down; and if his brother came to his +senses and asked him to return, he would make it a condition that he +worked henceforth at Bridport. A feeling of hatred for Bridetown +mastered him. + +He descended West Street until the town lay behind him, then turned to +the left through a wicket, crossed some meadows and reached a popular +local tryst and sanctity: the Lovers' Grove. A certain crudity in the +ideas of Miss Ironsyde struck Raymond. How simple and primitive she was +after all. Could such an unworldly and inexperienced woman be right? He +doubted it. But he went on through the avenue of lime and sycamore trees +which made the traditional grove. Beneath them ran pavement of rough +stones, that lifted the pathway above possible inundation, and, +to-night, the pattern of the naked boughs above was thrown down upon the +stones in a black lace work by the moon. The place was very still, but +half a mile distant there dreamed great woods, whence came the hooting +of an owl. + +Raymond stood to listen, and when the bird was silent, he heard a +footfall ring on the paving-stones and saw Sabina coming to him. At +heart she had been fearful that he would not appear; but this she did +not whisper now. Instead she pretended confidence and said, "I knew +you'd come!" + +He responded with fair ardour and tried to banish his grievances against +her. He assured her that all her alarm and tribulation were not his +fault, but her own; and her responsive agreement and servile tact, by +its self-evidence defeated its own object and fretted the man's nerves, +despite his kindly feelings. For Sabina, in her unspeakable thankfulness +at the turn of events, sank from herself and was obsequious. When they +met he kissed her and presently, holding his hand, she kissed it. She +heaped blame upon herself and praised his magnanimity; she presented the +ordinary phenomena of a happy release from affliction and fear; but her +intense humility was far from agreeable to Raymond, since its very +accentuation served to show his own recent actions in painful colours. + +He told her what his aunt was going to do; and where a subtler mind had +held its peace, Sabina erred again and praised Miss Ironsyde. In truth, +she was not at her best to-night and her excitement acted unfavourably +on Raymond. He fought against his own emotions, and listened to her +high-strung chatter and plans for the future. A torrent of blame had +better suited the contrite mood in which she met him; but she took the +blame on her own shoulders, and in her relief said things sycophantic +and untrue. + +He told her almost roughly to stop. + +"For God's sake don't blackguard yourself any more," he said. "Give me a +chance. It's for me to apologise to you, surely. I knew perfectly well +you meant nothing, and I ought to have had more imagination and not +given you any cause to be nervous. I frightened you, and if a woman's +frightened, of course, she's not to be blamed for what she does, any +more than a man's to be blamed for what he does when he's drunk." + +This, however, she would not allow. + +"If I had trusted you, and known you could not do wrong, and remembered +what you said when I told you about the child--then all this would have +been escaped. And God knows I did trust you at the bottom of my heart +all the time." + +She talked on and the man tired of it and, looking far ahead, perceived +that his life must be shared for ever with a nature only now about to be +revealed to him. He had seen the best of her; but he had never seen the +whole truth of her. He knew she was excitable and passionate; but the +excitation and passion had all been displayed for him till now. How +different when she approached other affairs of life than love, and +brought her emotional characteristics to bear upon them! A sensation of +unutterable flatness overtook Raymond. She began talking of finding a +house, and was not aware that his brother had dismissed him. + +He snatched an evil pleasure from telling her so. It silenced her and +made her the more oppressively submissive. But through this announcement +he won temporary release. There came a longing to leave her, to go back +to Bridport and see other faces, hear other voices and speak of other +things. They had walked homeward through the valley of the river and, at +West Haven, Raymond announced that she must go the remainder of the way +alone. He salved the unexpected shock of this with a cheerful promise. + +"I sleep at Bridport, to-night," he said, "and I'll leave you here, +Sabina; but be quite happy. I dare say Daniel will be all right. He's a +pious blade and all that sort of thing and doesn't understand real life. +And as some fool broke our bit of real life rather roughly on his ear, +it was too much for his weak nerves. I shan't take you very far off +anyway. We'll have a look round soon. I'll go to a house agent or +somebody in a day or two." + +"You must choose," she said. + +"No, no--that's up to you, and you mustn't have small ideas about it +either. You're going to live in a jolly good house, I promise you." + +This sweetened the parting. He kissed her and turned his face to +Bridport, while she followed the road homeward. It took her past the old +store--black as the night under a roof silvered by the moon. A strange +shiver ran through her as she passed it. She could have prayed for time +to turn back. + +"Oh, my God, if I was a maiden again!" she said in a low voice to +herself. + +Then, growing calmer and musing of the past rather than the future, she +asked herself whether in that case she would still be caring for +Raymond; but she turned from such a thought and smothered the secret +indignation still lying red-hot and hidden under the smoke of the things +she had said to him that night. + +On his way to Bridport, the man also reflected, but of the future, not +the past. + +"I must be cruel to be kind," he told himself. What he exactly meant by +the assurance, he hardly knew. But, in some way, it assisted +self-respect and promised a course of action likely to justify his +coming life. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +JOB LEGG'S AMBITION + + +A disquieting and wholly unexpected event now broke into the strenuous +days of the mistress of 'The Seven Stars.' It followed another, which +was now a thing of the past; but Mrs. Northover had scarcely finished +being thankful that the old order was restored again, when that occurred +to prove the old order could never be restored. + +Job Legg had been called away to the deathbed of an aged uncle. For a +fortnight he was absent, and during that time Nelly Northover found +herself the victim of a revelation. She perceived, indeed, startling +truths until then hidden from her, and found the absence of Job created +undreamed-of complications. At every turn she missed the man and +discovered, very much to her own surprise, that this most unassuming +person appeared vital to the success of her famous house. On every hand +she heard the same words; all progress was suspended; nothing could +advance until the return of Mr. Legg. 'The Seven Stars' were arrested in +their courses while he continued absent. + +Thus his temporary disappearance affected the system and proved that +around the sun of Job Legg, quite as much as his mistress, the galaxy +revolved; but something more than this remained to be discovered by Mrs. +Northover herself. She found that not only had she undervalued his +significance and importance in her scheme of things; but that she +entertained a personal regard for the man, unsuspected until he was +absent. She missed him at every turn; and when he came back to her, after +burying his uncle, Mrs. Northover could have kissed him. + +This she did not do; but she was honest; she related the suspension of +many great affairs for need of Job; she described to him the dislocation +that his departure had occasioned and declared her hearty thankfulness +that her right hand had returned to her. + +"You was uppermost in my mind a thousand times a day, Job; and when it +came to doing the fifty thousand things you do, I began to see what +there is to you," said Nelly Northover. "And this I'll say: you haven't +been getting enough money along with me." + +He was pleased and smiled and thanked her. + +"I've missed 'The Stars,'" he said, "and am very glad to be back." + +Then when things were settled down and Mrs. Northover happy and content +once more, Mr. Legg cast her into much doubt and uncertainty. Indeed his +attitude so unexpected, awoke a measure of dismay. Life, that Nelly +hoped was becoming static and comfortable again, suddenly grew highly +dynamic. Changes stared her in the face and that was done which nothing +could undo. + +On the night that Raymond Ironsyde left Sabina at West Haven and +returned to Bridport, Mr. Legg, the day's work done, drank a glass of +sloe gin in Mrs. Northover's little parlour and uttered a startling +proposition--the last to have been expected. + +The landlady herself unconsciously opened the way to it, for she touched +the matter of his wages and announced her purpose to increase them by +five shillings a week. Then he spoke. + +"Before we talk about that, hear me," he said. "You were too nice-minded +to ask me if I got anything by the death of my old man; but I may tell +you, that I got everything. And there was a great deal more than anybody +knew. In short he's left me a shade over two hundred pounds per annum, +and that with my own savings--for I've saved since I was thirteen years +old--brings my income somewhere near the two hundred and fifty mark--not +counting wages." + +"Good powers, Job! But I am glad. Never none on earth deserved a bit +better than you do." + +"And yet," he said, "I only ask myself if all this lifts me high enough +to say what I want to say. You know me for a modest man, Mrs. +Northover." + +"None more so, Job." + +"And therefore I've thought a good deal about it and come to it by the +way of reason as well as inclination. In fact I began to think about +what I'm going to say now, many years ago after your husband died. And I +just let the idea go on till the appointed time, if ever it should come; +and when my uncle died and left a bit over four thousand pounds to me, I +felt the hour had struck!" + +Nelly's heart sank. + +"You're going?" she said. "All this means that you are going into +business on your own, Legg." + +"Let me finish. But be sure of one thing; I'm not going if I can stay +with peace and honour. If I can't, then, of course, I must go. To go +would be a terrible sad thing for me, for I've grown into this place and +feel as much a part of it as the beer engine, or the herbaceous border. +But I had to weigh the chances, and I may say my cautious bent of mind +showed very clearly what they were. And, so, first, I'll tell what a +flight I've took and what a thought I've dared, and then I'll ask you, +being a woman with a quick mind and tongue, to answer nothing for the +moment, and say no word that you may wish to recall after." + +"All very wise and proper, I'm sure." + +"If it ain't, God forgive me, seeing I've been working it out in my mind +for very near twenty years. And I say this, that being now a man of +capital, and a healthy and respectable man, and well thought of, I +believe, and nothing against me to my knowledge, I offer to marry you, +Nelly Northover. The idea, of course, comes upon you like a bolt from +the blue, as I can see by your face; but before you answer 'No,' I must +say I've loved you in a respectful manner for many years, and though I +knew my place too well to say so, I let it appear by faithful service +and very sharp eyes always on your interests--day and night you may +say." + +"That is true," she said. "I didn't know my luck." + +"I don't say that. Any honourable man would have done so much, very +likely; but perhaps--however, I'm not here to praise myself but to +praise you; and I may add I never in a large experience saw the +woman--maid, wife or widow--to hold a candle to you for brains and +energy and far-reaching fine qualities in general. And therefore I never +could be worthy of you, and I don't pretend to it, and the man who did +would be a very vain and windy fool; but such is my high opinion and +great desire to be your husband that I risk, you may say, everything by +offering myself." + +"This is a very great surprise, Job." + +"So great that you must do me one good turn and not answer without +letting it sink in, if you please. I have a right to beg that. Of course +I know on the spur of the moment the really nice-minded woman always +turns down the adventurous male. 'Tis their delicate instinct so to do. +But you won't do that--for fairness to me. And there's more to it yet, +because we've got to think of fairness to you also. I wouldn't have you +buy a pig in a poke and take a man of means without knowing where you +stood. So I may say that if you presently felt the same as I do about +it, I should spend a bit of my capital on 'The Seven Stars,' which, in +my judgment, is now crying for capital expenditure." + +"It is," admitted Mrs. Northover, "I grant you that." + +"Very well, then. It would be my pride--" + +He was interrupted, for the bell of the inn rang and a moment later +Raymond Ironsyde appeared in the hall. He had come for supper and bed. + +"Good evening, Mrs. Northover," he said. "I'm belated and starving into +the bargain. Have you got a room?" + +"For that matter, yes," she answered not very enthusiastically. "But +surely 'The Tiger's' your house, sir?" + +"I'm not bound to 'The Tiger,' and very likely shall never go there +again. Gurd is getting too big for his shoes and seems to think he's +called upon to preach sermons to his customers, besides doing his duty +as a publican. If I want sermons I can go to church for them, not to an +inn. Give me some supper and a bottle of your best claret. I'm tired and +bothered." + +A customer was a customer and Mrs. Northover had far too much experience +to take up the cudgels for her friend over the way. She guessed pretty +accurately at the subject of Richard Gurd's discourse, yet wondered that +he should have spoken. For her own part, while quite as indignant as +others and more sorry than many that this cloud should have darkened a +famous local name, she held it no personal business of hers. + +"I'll see what cold meat we've got. Would you like a chicken, sir?" + +"No--beef, and plenty of it. And let me have a room." + +Job Legg, concealing the mighty matters in his own bosom, soon waited +upon Raymond and found him in a sulky humour. The claret was not to his +liking and he ordered spirits. He began to smoke and drink, and from an +unamiable mood soon thawed and became talkative. He bade Job stay and +listen to him. + +"I've got a hell of a lot on my mind," he said, "and it's a relief to +talk to a sensible man. There aren't many knocking about so far as I can +see." + +He rambled on touching indirectly, as he imagined, at his own affairs, +but making it clear to the listener that a very considerable tumult +raged in Raymond's own mind. Then came Mrs. Northover, told the guest +that it was nearer two o'clock than one, and hoped he was soon going to +bed. + +He promised to do so and she departed; but the faithful Job, himself not +sleepy, kept Raymond company. Unavailingly he urged the desirability of +sleep, but young Ironsyde sat on until he was very drunk. Then Mr. Legg +helped him upstairs and assisted him to his bed. + +It was after three o'clock before he retired himself and found his mind +at liberty to speculate upon the issue of his own great adventure. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +A CONFERENCE + + +Jenny Ironsyde came to see Ernest Churchouse upon the matter of the +marriage. She found him pensive and a little weary. According to his +custom he indulged in ideas before approaching the subject just then +uppermost in all minds in Bridetown. + +"I have been suffering from rather a severe dose of the actual," he +said; "at present, in the minds of those about me, there is no room for +any abstraction. We are confronted with facts--painful facts--a most +depressing condition for such a mind as mine. There are three orders of +intelligence, Jenny. The lowest never reaches higher than the discussion +of persons; the second talks about places, which is certainly better; +the third soars into the region of ideas; and when one finds a person +indulge in ideas, then court their friendship, for ideas are the only +sound basis of intellectual interchanges. It is so strange to see an +educated person, who might be discussing the deepest mysteries and +noblest problems of life, preferring to relate the errors of a domestic +servant, or deplore the price of sprats." + +"All very well for you," declared Miss Ironsyde; "from your isolated +situation, above material cares and anxieties, you can affect this +superiority; but what about Mrs. Dinnett? You would very soon be +grumbling if Mrs. Dinnett put the deepest mysteries and noblest problems +of life before the price of sprats. It is true that man cannot live by +bread alone; and it is equally true that he cannot live without it. The +highest flights are impossible without cooking, and cooking would be +impossible if all aspired to the highest flights." + +"As a matter of fact, Mrs. Dinnett is my present source of depression," +he said. "All is going as it should go, I suppose. The young people are +reconciled, and I have arranged that Sabina should be married from here +a fortnight hence. Thus, as it were, I shield and protect her and +support her against back-biting and evil tongues." + +"It is splendid of you." + +"Far from it. I am only doing the obvious. I care much for the girl. But +Mary Dinnett, despite the need to be sanguine and expeditious, permits +herself an amount of obstinate melancholy which is most ill-judged and +quite unjustified by the situation. Nothing will satisfy her. She scorns +hope. She declines to take a cheerful view. She even confesses to a +premonition they are not going to be married after all. She says that +her grandmother had second sight and believes that the doubtful gift has +been handed down to her." + +"This is very bad for Sabina." + +"Of course it is. I impress that upon her mother. The girl has been +through a great deal. She is highly strung at all times, and these +affairs have wrought havoc with her intelligence for the moment. Her one +thought and feverish longing is to be married, and her mother's fatuous +prophecies that she never will be are causing serious nervous trouble to +Sabina. I feel sure of it. They may even be doing permanent harm." + +"You should suppress Mary." + +"I endeavour to do so. I put much serving upon her; but her frame of +mind is such that her energy is equal to anything. You had better see +her and caution her. From another woman, words of wisdom would carry +more weight than mine. As to Sabina, I have warned her against her +mother--a strong thing to do, but I felt it to be my duty." + +They saw Mary Dinnett then, and Miss Ironsyde quickly realised that +there were subtle tribulations and shades of doubt in the mother's mind +beyond Mr. Churchouse's power to appreciate. Indeed, Mrs. Dinnett, +encouraged so to do by the sympathetic presence of Jenny Ironsyde, +strove to give reasons for her continued gloom. + +"You must be more hopeful and put a brighter face on it, Mary, if only +for the sake of the young people," declared the visitor. "You're not +approaching the marriage from the right point of view. We must forget +the past and keep our minds on the future and proceed with this affair +just as though it were an ordinary marriage without any disquieting +features. We have to remember that they love each other and really are +well suited. The future is chequered by certain differences between my +nephews, which have not yet been smoothed out; but I am sure that they +will be; and meantime you need feel no fear of any inconvenience for +Sabina. I am responsible." + +"I know all that," said Mrs. Dinnett, "and your name is in my prayers +when I rise up and when I go to bed. But while there's a lot other +people can do for 'em, there's also a deal they can only do for +themselves; and, in my opinion, they are not doing it. It's no good us +playacting and forgetting the past and pretending everything is just as +it should be, if they won't." + +"But they have." + +"Sabina has. I doubt if he has. I don't know how you find him, but when +I see him he's not in a nice temper and not taking the situation in the +spirit of a happy bridegroom--very far from it. And my second-sight, +which I get from my grandmother, points to one thing: that there won't +be no wedding." + +"This is preposterous," declared Miss Ironsyde. "The day is fixed and +every preparation far advanced." + +"That's nought to a wayward mind like his. He's got in a state now when +I wouldn't trust him a yard. And I hope to God you'll hold the reins +tight, miss, and not slacken till they're man and wife. Once let him see +his way clear to bolt, and bolt he will." + +Mr. Churchouse protested, while Jenny only sighed. Sabina's mother was +echoing her own secret uneasiness, but she lamented that others had +marked it as well as herself. + +"He is in a very moody state, but never speaks of any change of mind to +me." + +"Because he well knows you hold the purse," said Mrs. Dinnett. "I don't +want to say anything uncharitable against the man, though I might; but I +will say that there's danger and that I do well to be a miserable woman +till the danger's past. You tell me to cheer up, and I promise to cheer +up quick enough when there's reason to do so. Mr. Churchouse here is the +best gentleman on God's earth; but he don't understand a mother's +heart--how should he? and he don't know what a lot women have got to +hide from men--for their own self-respect, and because men as a body are +such clumsy-minded fools--speaking generally, of course." + +To see even Mrs. Dinnett dealing thus in ideas excited Ernest and filled +him with interest. He forgot everything but the principle she asserted +and would have discussed it for an hour; but Mary, having thus hit back +effectively, departed, and Miss Ironsyde brought the master of 'The +Magnolias' back to their subject. + +"There's a lot of truth in what she says and it shows how trouble +quickens the wits," she declared; "and I can say to you, what I wouldn't +to her, that Raymond is not taking this in a good spirit, or as I hoped +and expected. I feel for him, too, while being absolutely firm with him. +Stupid things were done and the secret of his folly made public. He has +a grudge against them and, of course, that is rather a threatening fact, +because a grudge against anybody is a deadly thing to get into one's +mind. It poisons character and ruins your steady outlook, if it is deep +seated enough." + +"Would you say that he bore Sabina a grudge?" + +"I'm afraid so; but I do my best to dispel it by pointing out what she +thought herself faced with. And I tell him what is true, that Sabina in +her moments of greatest fear and exasperation, always behaved like a +lady. But in your ear only, Ernest, I confess to a new sensation--a +sickly sensation of doubt. It comes over my religious certainty +sometimes, like a fog. It's cold and shivery. Of course from every +standpoint of religion and honour and justice, they ought to be married. +But--" + +He stopped her. + +"Having named religion and honour and justice, there is no room for +'but.' Indeed, Jenny, there is not." + +"Let me speak, all the same. Other people can have intuitions besides +Mrs. Dinnett. It's an intuition--not second sight--but it is alive. +Supposing this marriage doesn't really make for the happiness of either +of them?" + +"If they put religion and honour and justice first, it must," he +repeated. "You cannot, I venture to say, have happiness without religion +and honour and justice; and if Raymond were to go back on his word now, +he would be the most miserable man in the country." + +"I wonder." + +"Don't wonder. Be sure of it. Granted he finds himself miserable--that +is because he has committed a fault. Will it make him less miserable to +go on and commit a greater? Sorrow is a fair price to pay for wisdom, +Jenny. He is a great deal wiser now than he was six months ago, and to +shirk his responsibilities and break his word will not mend matters. +Besides, there is another consideration, which you forget. These young +people are no longer free. Even if they both desired to remain single, +honour, justice and religion actually demand marriage. There was a doubt +in my own mind once, too, whether their happiness would be assured by +union. Now there is no doubt. A child is coming into the world. Need I +say more?" + +"I stand corrected," she answered. "There is really nothing more to be +said. For the child's sake, if for no other reason, marry they must. We +know too well the fate of the child born out of wedlock in this +country." + +"It is a shameful and cruel fate; and while the Church of England +cowardly suffers the State to impose it, and selfish men care not, we, +with some enthusiasm for the unborn and some indignation to see their +disabilities, must do what lies in our power for them." + +He rambled off into generalities inspired by this grave theme. + +"'Suffer the little children to come unto Me,' said Christ; and we make +it almost impossible for fifty thousand little children to come unto Him +every year; and those who stand for Him, the ministers of His Church, +lift not a finger. The little children of nobody they are. They grow up +conscious of their handicap; they come into the world to trust and hope +and find themselves pariahs. Is that conducive to a religious trust in +God, or a rational trust in man for these outlawed thousands?" + +She brought him back again to Raymond and Sabina. + +"Apart from the necessity and justice," she said, "and taking it for +granted that the thing must happen, what is your opinion of the future? +You know Sabina well and ought to be in a position to say if you think +she will have the wit and sense to make it a happy marriage." + +"I should wish to think so. They are a gracious pair--at least they +were. I liked both boy and girl exceedingly and I happened to be the one +who introduced them to each other. It was after Henry's death. Sabina +came in with our tea and one could almost see an understanding spring up +and come to life under one's eyes. They've been wicked, Jenny; but such +is my hopelessly open mind in the matter of goodness and wickedness, +that I often find it harder to forgive some people for doing their duty +than others for being wicked. In fact, some do their duty in a way that +is perfectly unforgivable, while others fail in such an affecting and +attractive manner that they make you all the fonder of them." + +"I feel so, too, sometimes," she admitted, "but I never dared to +confess it. Once married, I think Raymond would steady down and realise +his responsibilities. We must both do what we can to bring the brothers +together again. It will take a long time to make Daniel forgive this +business." + +"It is just the Daniel type who would take it most seriously, even if we +are able soon to say 'all's well that ends well.' For that reason, one +regrets he heard particulars. However, we must trust and believe the +future will set all right and reinstate Raymond at the works. For my own +part I feel very sure that will happen." + +"Well, I always like to see hope triumphing over experience," she said, +"and one need never look further than you for that." + +"Thank yourself," he answered. "Your steadfast optimism always awakes an +echo in me. If we make up our minds that this is going to be all right, +that will at least help on the good cause. We can't do much to make it +all right, but we can do something. They are in Bridport house-hunting +this morning, I hear." + +"They are; and that reminds me they come to lunch and, I hope, to report +progress. Of course anything Raymond likes, Sabina approves; but he +isn't easily satisfied. However, they may have found something. Daniel, +rather fortunately, is from home just now, in the North." + +"If we could get him to the wedding, it would be a great thing." + +"I'm afraid we mustn't hope for that; but we can both urge him to come. +He may." + +"I will compose a very special letter to him," said Mr. Churchouse. +"How's your rheumatism?" + +"Better, if anything." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE WARPING MILL + + +In the warping shed Mercy Gale plied her work. It was a separate +building adjoining the stores at Bridetown Mill and, like them, +impregnated with the distinctive, fat smell of flax and hemp. Under +dusty rafters and on a floor of stone the huge warping reels stood. They +were light, open frameworks that rose from floor to ceiling and turned +upon steel rods. Hither came the full bobbins from the spinning machines +to be wound off. Two dozen of the bobbins hung together on a flat frame +or 'creel' and through eyes and slots the yarn ran through a 'hake,' +which deftly crossed the strands so that they ran smoothly and freely. +The bake box rose and fell and lapped the yarn in perfect spirals round +the warping reels as they revolved. The length of a reel of twine varies +in different places and countries; but at Bridetown, a Dorset reel was +always measured, and it represented twenty-one thousand, six hundred +yards. + +Mercy Gale was chaining the warp off the reels in great massive coils +which would presently depart to be polished and finished at Bridport. +All its multiple forms sprang from the simple yarn. It would turn into +shop and parcel twines; fishing twines for deep sea lines and nets; and +by processes of reduplication, swell to cords and shroud laid ropes, +hawsers and mighty cables. + +A little figure filled the door of the shed and Estelle Waldron +appeared. She shook hands and greeted the worker with friendship, for +Estelle was now free of the Mill and greatly prided herself on +personally knowing everybody within them. + +"Good morning, Mercy," she said. "I've come to see Nancy Buckler." + +"Good morning, miss. I know. She's going to run in at dinner time to +sing you her song." + +"It's a wonderful song, I believe," declared Estelle, "and very, very +old. Her grandfather taught it to her before he died, and I want to +write it down. Do you like poetry, Mercy?" + +"Can't say as I do," confessed the warper. She was a fair, tall girl. "I +like novels," she added. "I love stories, but I haven't got much use for +rhymes." + +"Stories about what?" asked Estelle. "I have a sort of an idea to start +a library, if I can persuade my father to let me. I believe I could get +some books from friends to make a beginning." + +"Stories about adventure," declared Mercy. "Most of the girls like love +stories; but I don't care so much about them. I like stories where big +things happen in history." + +"So do I; and then you know you're reading about what really did happen +and about great people who really lived. I think I can lend you some +stories like that." + +Mercy thanked her and Estelle fell silent considering which book from +her limited collection would best meet the other's demand. Herself she +did not read many novels, but loved her books about plants and her +poets. Poetry was precious food to her, and Mr. Churchouse, who also +appreciated it, had led her to his special favourites. For the present, +therefore, Estelle was content with Longfellow and Cowper and +Wordsworth. The more dazzling light of Keats and Shelley and Swinburne +had yet to dawn for her. + +Nancy Buckler arrived presently to sing her song. Her looks did not +belie Nancy. She was sharp of countenance, with thin cheeks and a +prominent nose. Her voice, too, had a pinch of asperity about it. By +nature she was critical of her fellow creatures. No man had desired her, +and the fact soured her a little and led to a general contempt of the +sex. + +She smiled for Estelle, however, because the ingenuous child had won her +friendship. + +"Good morning, miss," she said. "If you've got a pencil and paper, you +can take down the words." + +"But sing them first," begged the listener. "I want to hear you sing +them to the old tune, because I expect the tune is as old as the words, +Nancy." + +"It's a funny old tune for certain. I can't sing it like grandfather +did, for all his age. He croaked it like a machine running, and that +seemed the proper way. But I've not got much of a voice." + +"'Tis loud enough, anyway," said Mercy, "and that's a virtue." + +"Yes, you can hear what I'm saying," admitted Miss Buckler, then she +sang her song. + +"When a twister, a twisting, will twist him a twist, +With the twisting his twist, he the twine doth entwist; +But if one of the twines of the twist doth untwist, +The twine that untwisteth, untwisteth the twist, +Untwisting the twine that entwineth between, +He twists with his twister the two in a twine. +Then, twice having twisted the twines of his twine, +He twisteth the twine he had twined in twine. +The twain, that in twining before in the twine, +As twines were entwisted, he now doth untwine, +'Twixt the twain intertwisting a twine more between." + +Nancy gave her remarkable performance in a clear, thin treble. It was a +monotonous melody, but suited the words very well. She sang slowly and +her face and voice exhibited neither light nor shade. Yet her method +suited the words in their exceedingly unemotional appeal. + +"It's the most curious song I ever heard," cried Estelle, "and you sing +it perfectly, because I heard every word." + +Then she brought out pencil and paper, sat in the deep alcove of the +window and transcribed Nancy's verse. + +"You must sing that to my father next time you come up," she said. +"It's like no other song in the world, I'm sure." + +Sally Groves came in. She had brought Estelle the seed of a flower from +her garden. + +"I put it by for you, Miss Waldron," said the big woman, "because you +said you liked it in the fall." + +They talked together while Mercy Gale doffed her overall and woollen +bonnet. + +"Tell me," said Estelle, "of a very good sort of wedding present for Mr. +Ironsyde, when he marries Sabina next week." + +"A new temper, I should think," suggested Nancy. + +"He can't help being rather in a temper," explained Estelle, "because +they can't find a house." + +"Sabina can find plenty," answered the spinner. "It's him that's so hard +to please." + +Sally Groves strove to curb Nancy's tongue. + +"You mind your own business," she said. "Mr. Ironsyde wants everything +just so, and why not?" + +"Because it ain't a time to be messing about, I should think," retorted +Nancy. "And it's for the woman to be considered, not him." + +Then Estelle, in all innocence, asked a shattering question. + +"Is it true Sabina is going to have a baby? One or two girls in the mill +told me she was, but I asked my father, and he seemed to be annoyed and +said, of course not. But I hope it's true--it would be lovely for Sabina +to have a baby to play with." + +"So it would then," declared Sally Groves, "but I shouldn't tell nothing +about it for the present, miss." + +"Least said, soonest mended," said Mercy Gale. + +"It's like this," explained Sally Groves with clumsy goodness: "they'll +want to keep it for a surprise, miss, and I dare say they'd be terrible +disappointed if they thought anybody knew anything about it yet." + +Nancy Buckler laughed. + +"I reckon they would," she said. + +"So don't you name it, miss," continued Sally. "Don't you name the word +yet awhile." + +Estelle nodded. + +"I won't then," she promised. "I know how sad it is, if you've got a +great secret, to find other people know it before you want them to." + +"Beastly sad," said Nancy, as she went her way, and the child looked +after her puzzled. + +"I believe Nancy's jealous of Sabina," she said. + +Then it was Sally Groves who laughed and her merriment shook the billows +of her mighty person. + +Estelle found herself somewhat depressed as she went home. Not so much +the words as the general spirit of these comments chilled her. After +luncheon she visited her father's study and talked to him while he +smoked. + +"What perfectly beautiful thing can I get for Ray and Sabina for a +wedding present?" + +He cleaned his pipe with one of the crow's feathers Estelle was used to +collect for him. They stood in vases on the mantel-shelf. + +"It's a puzzler," confessed Arthur Waldron. + +"D'you think Ray has grown bad-tempered, father?" + +"Do you?" + +"No, I'm sure I don't. He is a little different, but that's because he's +going to be married. No doubt people do get a little different, then. +But Nancy Buckler at the Mill said she thought the best wedding present +for him would be a new temper." + +"That's the sort of insolent things people say, I suppose, behind his +back. It's all very unfortunate in my opinion, Estelle." + +"It's frightfully unfortunate Ray leaving us, because, after he's +married, he must have a house of his own; but it isn't unfortunate his +marrying Sabina, I'm sure." + +"I'm not sure at all," confessed her father. His opinion always carried +the greatest weight, and she was so much concerned at this announcement +that Arthur felt sorry he had spoken. + +"You see, Estelle--how can I explain? I think Ray in rather too young to +marry." + +"He's well over twenty." + +"Yes, but he's young for his age, and the things that he is keen about +are not the things that a girl is keen about. I doubt if he will make +Sabina happy." + +"He will if he likes, and I'm sure he will like. He can always make me +happy, so, of course, he can make Sabina. He's really tremendously +clever and knows all sorts of things. Oh, don't think it's going to be +sad, father. I'm sure they're both much too wise to do anything that's +going to be sad. Because if Ray--" + +She stopped, for Raymond himself came in. He had left early that morning +to seek a house with Sabina. + +"What luck?" said Waldron. + +"We've found something that'll do, I think. Two miles out towards +Chidcock. A garden and a decent paddock and a stable. But he'll have to +spend some money on the stable. There's a doubt if he will--the +landlord, I mean. Sabina likes the house, so I hope it will be all +right." + +Waldron nodded. + +"If it's Thornton, the horse-dealer, he'll do what you want. He's got +houses up there." + +"It isn't. I haven't seen the man yet." + +"Well," said his friend, "I don't know what the deuce Estelle and I are +going to do without you. We shall miss you abominably." + +"What shall I do without you? That's more to the point. You've got each +other for pals--I--" + +He broke off and Arthur filled the pregnant pause. + +"Look here--Estelle wants to give you a wedding present, old man; and so +do I. And as we haven't the remotest idea what would be the likeliest +thing, don't stand on ceremony, but tell us." + +"I don't want anything--except to know I shall always be welcome when I +drop in." + +"We needn't tell you that." + +"But you must want thousands of things," declared Estelle, "everybody +does when they're married. And if you don't, I'm sure Sabina +does--knives and forks and silver tea kettles and pictures for the +walls." + +"Married people don't want pictures, Estelle; they never look at +anything but one another." + +She laughed. + +"But the poor walls want pictures if you don't. I believe the walls +wouldn't feel comfortable without pictures. Besides you and Sabina can't +sit and look at each other all day." + +"What about a nice little handy 'jingle' for her to trundle about in?" +asked Waldron. + +"As I can't pull it, old chap, it wouldn't be much good. I'm keeping the +hunter; but I shan't be able to keep anything else--if that." + +"How would it be if you sold the hunter and got a nice everyday sort of +horse that you could ride, or that Sabina could drive?" asked Estelle. + +"No," said Waldron firmly. "He doesn't sell his hunter or his guns. +These things stand for a link with the outer world and represent sport, +which is quite as important as marriage in the general scheme." + +"I thought to chuck all that and take up golf," said Raymond. "There's a +lot in golf they tell me." + +But Waldron shook his head. + +"Golf's all right," he admitted, "and a great game. I'm going to take it +up myself, and I'm glad it's coming in, because it will add to the +usefulness of a lot of us men who have to fall out of cricket. There's a +great future for golf, I believe. But no golf for you yet. You won't run +any more and you'll drop out of football, as only 'pros.' play much +after marriage. But you must shoot as much as possible, and hunt a bit, +and play cricket still." + +This comforting programme soothed Raymond. + +"That's all right, but I've got to find work. I was just beginning to +feel keen on work; but now--flit, Estelle, my duck. I want to have a +yarn with father." + +The girl departed. + +"Do let it be a 'jingle,' Ray," she begged, and then was gone. + +"It's my damned brother," went on Raymond. + +"He'll come round and ask you to go back, as soon as you're fixed up and +everything's all right." + +"Everything won't be all right. Everything's confoundedly wrong. Think +what it is for a proud man to be at the mercy of an aunt, and to look to +her for his keep. If anything could make me sick of the whole show, it's +that." + +"I shouldn't feel it so. She's keen on you, and keen on Sabina; and she +knows you can't live upon air. You may be sure also she knows that it +won't last. Daniel will come round." + +"And if he does? It's all the same--taking his money." + +"You won't be taking it; you'll be earning it." + +"I hate him, like hell, and I hate the thought of working under him all +my life." + +"You won't be under him. You've often said the time was coming when +you'd wipe Daniel's eye and show you were the moving spirit of the Mill. +Well now, when you go back, you must work double tides to do it." + +"He may not take me back, and for many things I'd sooner he didn't. We +should never be the same to one another after that row. For two pins, +even now, I'd make a bolt, Arthur, and disappear altogether and go +abroad and carve out my own way." + +"Don't talk rot. You can't do that." + +But Waldron, in spite of his advice and sanguine prophecies, hid a grave +doubt at heart whether, so far as Raymond's own future was concerned, +such a course might not be the wisest. He felt confident, however, that +the younger man would keep his engagements. Raymond had plenty of pluck +and did not lack for a heart, so far as Waldron knew. Had Sabina been no +more than engaged, he must strongly have urged Raymond to drop her and +endure the harsh criticism that would have followed: for an engagement +broken appeared a lesser evil than an unhappy mating; but since the +position was complicated, he could not feel so and stoutly upheld the +marriage on principle, while extremely doubtful of its practical +outcome. + +They talked for two hours to no purpose and then Estelle called them to +tea. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE TELEGRAM + + +Raymond and Sabina spent a long afternoon at the house they had taken; +and while he was interested with the stables and garden, she occupied +herself indoors. She was very tired before they had finished, and +presently, returning to Bridport, they called at 'The Seven Stars' and +ordered tea. + +The famous garden was dismantled now and Job Legg spent some daily hours +in digging there. To-morrow Job was to hear what Mrs. Northover had to +say concerning his proposal, and, meantime, the pending decision neither +unsettled him nor interfered with his usual placidity and enterprise. + +Nelly Northover herself waited upon the engaged couple. She was somewhat +abstracted with her own thoughts, but so far banished them that she +could show and feel interest in the visitors. Raymond described the +house, and Sabina, glad to see Raymond in a cheerful mood, expatiated on +the charms of her future home. + +They delayed somewhat longer than Mrs. Northover expected and she left +them presently, for she had an appointment bearing on the supreme +subject of her offer of marriage. Mrs. Northover was, in fact, going to +take another opinion. Such indecision seemed foreign to her character, +which seldom found her in two minds; but it happened that upon one +judgment she had often relied since her husband's death and, before the +great problem at present challenging Nelly, she believed another view +might largely assist her. That she could not decide herself, she felt +to be very significant. The fact made her cautious and anxious. + +She put on her bonnet now, left a maid to settle with the customers and +presently stepped across the road to 'The Tiger,' for it was Richard +Gurd in whom Mrs. Northover put her trust. She designed to place Job's +offer before her friend and invite a candid and unprejudiced criticism. +For so doing more reasons than one may have existed; we seldom seek the +judgment of a friend without mixed motives; but, at any rate, Nelly +believed very thoroughly in her neighbour, and if, in reality, it was as +much a wish that he should know what had happened, as a desire to learn +his opinion upon it, she none the less felt that opinion would be +precious and probably decide her. + +Richard was waiting in his office--a small apartment off the bar, to +which none had access save himself. + +"Come in here and we shan't be disturbed," he said. "Of course, when you +tell me you want my advice on a matter of the greatest importance, all +else has to stand by. My old friend's wife has a right to come to me, I +should hope, and I'm glad you've done so. Sit here by the fire." + +It did not take Mrs. Northover long to relate the situation, nor was Mr. +Gurd much puzzled to declare his view. In brief words she told him of +Job Legg's greatly increased prosperity and his proposal to wed. Having +made her statement, she advanced a few words for Job. + +"In fairness and beyond all this, I must tell you, Richard, that he's a +very uncommon sort of man. That you know, of course, as well as I do. +But what you don't know is that when he was away, I badly missed him and +found out, for the first time, what an all-round, valuable creature he +has become at 'The Seven Stars.' When he was along with his dying +relation, I missed the man a thousand times in every twelve hours and I +felt properly astonished to find how he was the prop and stay of my +business. That may seem too much to say, seeing I'm a fairly clever +woman and know how to run 'The Seven Stars' in a pretty prosperous way; +but there is no doubt Legg is very much more than what he seems. He's a +very human man and I'll go so far as to say this: I like him. There's +great self-respect to him and you feel, under his level temper and +unfailing readiness to work at anything and everything, that he's a +power for good--in fact a man with high principles--so high as my own, +if not higher." + +"Stop there, or you'll over-do it," said Richard. "Higher than yours his +principles won't take him and I refuse to hear you say so. You ask me in +plain words if you shall marry Job Legg, or if you shan't. And before I +speak, I may tell you that, as a man of the world, I shan't quarrel with +you if you don't take my advice. As a rule I have found that good advice +is more often given than taken and, whether or no, the giving of advice +nearly always means one thing. And that is that the giver loses a +friend. If the advice is bad, it is generally taken, and him that takes +it finds out in due course it was bad, and so the giver makes an enemy. +And if 'tis good, the same thing happens, for then 'tis not taken and, +looking back, the sufferer sees his mistake, and human nature works, and +instead of kicking himself, he feels like kicking the wise man that gave +him the good advice. But between me and you that won't happen, for +there's the ghost of William Northover to come between. You and me are +high spirited, and I dare say there are some people who would say we are +short tempered; but we know better." + +"That's all true as gospel; and now you tell me if I ought to marry Job. +Or, if 'tis too great a question to decide in a minute, as I find it +myself, then leave it till to-morrow and I'll pop in again." + +"No need to leave it. My mind is used to make itself up swift. First, as +to Legg. Legg's a very good man, indeed, and I'd be the first to praise +him. He's all you say--or nearly all--and I've often been very much +impressed by him. And if he was anybody's servant but yours, I dare say +I'd have tempted him to 'The Tiger' before now. But there are some that +shine in the lead, like you and me, and some that only show their full +worth when they've got to obey. Job can obey to perfection; but I'm not +so sure if he's fitted to command." + +"Remember," she said, "that if I say 'no' to the man, I lose him. He +can't be my right hand no more then, because he'd leave. And my heart +sinks at the thought of another potman at my age." + +"When you say 'potman' you come to the root of the matter, and your age +has nothing to do with it," answered Richard. "The natural instinct at +such times is to advise against, and when man or woman asks a fellow +creature as to the wisdom of marrying, they'll always pull a long face +and find fifty good reasons why not. But I'm taking this in a larger +spirit. There's no reason why you shouldn't marry again, and you'd make +another as happy as you did your first, no doubt. But Job Legg is a +potman; he's been a potman for a generation; he thinks like a potman, +and his outlook in life is naturally the potman outlook. Mind, I'm not +saying anything against him as a man when I tell you so; I'm only +looking at him now as a husband for you. He's got religion and a good +temper, and dollops of sense, and I'll even go so far as to say, seeing +that he is now a man of money, that he was within his right to offer, if +he did it in a modest manner. But I won't say more than that. He's +simple and faithful and a servant worthy of all respect, but that man +haven't the parts to rise to mastership. A good stick, but if he was +your crutch, he'd fail you. For my part, I'm very sure that people of +much greater importance than him would offer for you if they knew you +were for a husband." + +"I wouldn't say I was for a husband, Richard. The idea never came into +my mind till Job Legg put it there." + +"Just your modesty. There's no more reason why you shouldn't wed than +why I shouldn't. You're a comely and highly marriageable person still, +and nobody knows it better than what I do." + +"You advise against, then?" + +"In that quarter, yes. I'm thinking of you, and only you, and I don't +believe Job is quite man enough for the part. Leave it, however, for +twenty-four hours." + +"He was to have his answer, to-morrow." + +"He's used to waiting. Tell him you're coming to it and won't keep him +much longer. It's too big a thing to be quite sure about, and you were +right when you said so. I'll come across and see you in the morning." + +"I'm obliged to you, Richard. And if you'll turn it over, I'll thank +you. I wouldn't have come to any other than you, bachelor though you +are." + +"I'll weigh it," he promised, "but I warn you I'm very unlikely to see +it different. What you've told me have put other side issues into my +head. You'll hunt a rabbit and flush a game bird, sometimes. In fact, +great things often come out of little ones." + +"I know you'll be fair and not let anything influence your judgment," +she said. + +He promised, but with secret uneasiness, for already it seemed that his +judgment was being influenced. For that reason he had postponed a final +decision until the following day. Mrs. Northover departed with grateful +thanks and left behind her, though she guessed it not, problems far more +tremendous than any she had brought. + +Meantime Raymond and Sabina, on their way to Miss Ironsyde, were met by +Mr. Neddy Motyer. Neddy had not seen his friend for some time and now +saluted and stopped. It was nearly dark and they stood under a +lamp-post. + +"Cheero!" said Mr. Motyer. "Haven't cast an eye on you for a month of +Sundays, Ironsyde." + +Raymond introduced Sabina and Neddy was gallant and reminded her they +had met before at the Mill. Then, desiring a little masculine society, +Sabina's betrothed proposed that she should go on and report that he was +coming. + +"Aunt Jenny will expect us to stop for dinner, so there's no hurry. I'll +be up in half an hour." + +She left them and Neddy suggested drinking. + +"You might as well be dead and buried for all the boys see of you +nowadays," he said, as they entered 'The Bull' Hotel. + +"I'm busy." + +"I know, but I hope you'll have a big night off before the deed is done +and you take leave of freedom--what?" + +"I'm not taking leave of freedom. You godless bachelors don't know +you're born." + +"Bluff--bluff!" declared Neddy. "You can't deceive me, old sport." + +"You wait till you find the right one." + +"I shall," promised Neddy. "And very well content to wait. Nothing is +easier than not to be married." + +"Nothing is harder, my dear chap, if you're in love with the right +girl." + +Neddy felt the ground delicate. He knew that Raymond had knocked down a +man for insulting him a week before, so he changed the subject. + +"I thought you'd be at the fight," he said. "It was a pretty +spar--interesting all through. Jack Buckler won. Blades practically let +him. Not because he wanted to, but because Solly Blades has got a streak +of softness in his make-up. That's fatal in a fighter. If you've got a +gentle heart, it don't matter how clever you are: you can't take full +advantage of your skill and use the opening when you've won it. Blades +didn't punish Buckler's stupidity, or weakness just when he could have +done it. So he lost, because he gave Jack time to get strong again; and +when Blades in his turn went weak, Buckler got it over and outed him." + +"Your heart often robs you of what your head won," said another man in +the bar. "Life's like prize-fighting in that respect. If you don't hit +other people when you can, the time will probably come when they'll hit +you." + +It was an ugly philosophy and Raymond, looking within, applied to it +himself. Then he put his own thoughts away. + +"And how are the gee-gees?" he asked. + +"As a 'gentleman backer,' I can't say I'm going very strong," confessed +Neddy. "On the whole, I think it's a mug's game. Anyway, I shall chuck +it when flat racing comes again. My father's getting restive. I shall +have to do something pretty soon." + +Raymond stayed for an hour and was again urged to give a bachelor-supper +before he married; but he declined. + +"Shan't chuck away a tenner on a lot of wasters," he said. "Got +something better to do with it." + +Several men promised to come to church and see the event, now near at +hand, but he told them that they might be disappointed. + +"I'm not too sure about that," he said. "I may put my foot down on that +racket and be married at a registrar's. Anyway church is no certainty. +I've got no use for making a show of my private affairs." + +On the way to Miss Ironsyde's he grew moody and gloom settled upon him. +A glimpse of the old free and easy life threw into darker colours the +new existence ahead. He remembered the sentiments of the strange man in +the bar--how weakness is always punished and the heart often robs the +head of victory. His heart was robbing his head of freedom; and that +meant victory also; for what sort of success can life offer to those who +begin it by flinging liberty to the winds? Yes, he had been "bluffing," +as Neddy declared; and to bluff was foreign to his nature. Nobody was +deceived, for everybody knew the truth, and though none dared laugh at +him in public, secretly all his acquaintance were doubtless doing so. + +Sabina saw that he was perturbed when presently he joined Miss +Ironsyde. He had drunk more than enough and proved irritable. + +He was, however, silent at first, while his aunt discussed the wedding. +She took it for granted that it would be in church and reminded Raymond +of necessary steps. + +"And certain people should be asked," she said. "Have you any friends +you particularly wish to be there? Mr. Churchouse is planning a wedding +breakfast--" + +"No--none of my friends will be there if I can help it. They're not that +sort." + +"Have you written to Daniel?" + +"'Written to Daniel'! Good God, no! What should I write to Daniel, but +to tell him he's the biggest cur and hound on earth?" + +"You've passed all that. You're not going back again, Raymond. You know +what you said last time when we talked about it." + +"If he's ever to be more than a name to me, he must apologise for being +a low down brute, first. I've got plenty on my mind without thinking +about him. He's going to rue the day he treated me as he has done. I'll +bring him and Bridetown Mill to the gutter, yet." + +"Don't, don't, please. I thought you felt last time we were talking +about him--" + +"Drop him--don't mention his name to me--I won't hear it. If you want me +to go on with my life with self-respect, then keep his name out of my +life. I've cursed him to hell once and for all, so talk of something +else!" + +Jenny Ironsyde saw that her nephew was in a dark temper, and while at +heart she felt indignant and ashamed, more for Sabina's sake than his +own, she humoured him, spoke of the future and strove to win him back +into a cheerful mind. + +Then as they were going to dinner, at half-past seven o'clock, the maid +who announced the meal, brought with her a telegram. It was directed to +'Ironsyde' only, and, putting on her glasses, Jenny read it. + +Daniel had been very seriously injured in a railway accident at York. + +Remorse strikes the young with cruel bitterness. Raymond turned pale and +staggered. While he had been cursing his brother, the man lay smitten, +perhaps at the door of death. His aunt it was who steadied him and +turned to the time-table. Then she went to her store of ready money. In +an hour Raymond was on his way. It might be possible for him to catch a +midnight train for the North from London and reach York before morning. + +When he had gone, Jenny turned to Sabina, who had spoken no word during +this scene. + +"Much may come of this," she said. "God works in mysterious ways. I have +no fear that Raymond will fail in his duty to dear Daniel at such a +time. Come back early to-morrow, Sabina. I shall get a telegram, as soon +as Raymond can despatch it, and shall hold myself in readiness to go at +once and stop with Daniel. Tell Mister Churchouse what has happened." + +The lady spent the night in packing. Her sufferings and anxieties were +allayed by occupation; but the long hours seemed unending. + +She was ready to start at dawn, but not until ten o'clock came the news +from York. Mr. Churchouse was already with her when the telegram +arrived. He had driven from Bridetown with Sabina. Daniel Ironsyde was +dead and had passed many hours before Raymond reached him. + +Sabina went home on hearing this news, and Ernest Churchouse remained +with Miss Ironsyde. + +She was prostrated and, for a time, he could not comfort her. But the +practical nature of her mind asserted itself between gusts of grief. She +despatched a telegram to Raymond at York, and begged him to bring back +his brother's body as soon as it might be done. Concerning the future +she also spoke to Ernest. + +"He has made no will," she said, "That I know, because when last we +were speaking of Raymond, he told me he felt it impossible at present to +do so." + +"Then the whole estate belongs to Raymond, now?" he asked. + +"Yes, everything is his." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A LETTER FOR SABINA + + +A human machine, under stress of personal tribulation and lowered +vitality, had erred in a signal box five miles from York, with the +result that several of his fellow creatures were killed and many +injured. Daniel Ironsyde had only lived long enough to direct the +telegram to his home. + +Three days later Raymond returned with the body, and once more Bridetown +crowded to its windows and open spaces, to see the funeral of another +master of the Mill. + +To an onlooker the scene might have appeared a repetition in almost +every particular of Henry Ironsyde's obsequies. + +The spinners crowded on the grassy triangle under the sycamore tree and +debated their future. They wondered whether Raymond would come to the +funeral; and a new note entered into all voices when they spoke his +name, for he was master now. Mr. Churchouse attended the burial, and +Arthur Waldron walked down from North Hill House with his daughter. In +the churchyard, where Daniel's grave waited for him beside his father, +old Mr. Baggs stood and looked down, as he had done when Henry Ironsyde +came to his grave. + +"Life, how short--eternity, how long," he said to John Best. + +Ernest Churchouse opened the door of the mourning coach as he had done +on the previous occasion, and Miss Ironsyde alighted, followed by +Raymond. He had come. But he had changed even to the visible eye. The +least observing were able to mark differences of voice and manner. + +Raymond's nature had responded to the stroke of circumstance with +lightning swiftness. The pressure of his position, thus suddenly +relieved, caused a rebound, a liberation of the grinding tension. It +remained to be seen what course he might now pursue; yet those who knew +him best anticipated no particular reaction. But when he returned it was +quickly apparent that tremendous changes had already taken place in the +young man's outlook on life and that, whatever his future line of +conduct might be, he realised very keenly his altered position. He was +now free of all temporal cares; but against that fact he found himself +faced with great new responsibilities. + +Remorse hit him hard, but he was through the worst of that, and life had +become so tremendous, that he could not for very long keep his thoughts +on death. + +At his brother's funeral he allowed his eye to rest on no familiar face +and cast no recognising glance at man or woman. He was haggard and pale, +but more than that: a new expression had come into his countenance. +Already consciousness of possession marked him. He had grasped the fact +of the change far quicker than Daniel had grasped it after their +father's death. + +He was returning immediately with his aunt to Bridport; but Mr. +Churchouse broke through the barrier and spoke to him as he entered the +carriage. + +"Won't you see Sabina before you go, Raymond? You must realise that, +even under these terrible conditions, we cannot delay. I understand she +wrote to you when you came back; but that you have not answered her +letter. As things are it seems to me you might like to be quietly and +privately married away from Bridetown?" + +Raymond hardly seemed to hear. + +"I can't talk about that now. A great deal falls upon me at present. I +am enormously busy and have to take up the threads of all poor Daniel +was doing in the North. There is nobody but myself, in my opinion, who +can go through with it. I return to London to-night." + +"But Sabina?" + +Raymond answered calmly. + +"Sabina Dinnett will hear from me during the next twenty-four hours," he +said. + +Ernest gazed aghast. + +"But, my dear boy, you cannot realise the situation if you talk like +that. Surely you--" + +"I realise the situation perfectly well. Good-bye, Uncle Ernest." + +The coach drove away. Miss Ironsyde said nothing. She had broken down +beside the grave and was still weeping. + +Then came Mr. Best, where Mr. Churchouse stood at the lich-gate. He was +anxious for information. + +"Did he say anything about his plans?" he asked. + +"Only that he is proceeding with his late brother's business in the +North. I perceive a most definite change in the young man, John." + +"For the better, we'll hope. What's hid in people! You never would have +thought Mister Raymond would have carried himself like that. It wasn't +grief at his loss, but a sort of an understanding of the change. He even +looked at us differently--even me." + +"He's overwrought and not himself, probably. I don't think he quite +grasps the immediate situation. He seems to be looking far ahead +already, whereas the most pressing matter should be a thing of +to-morrow." + +"Is the wedding day fixed?" + +"It is not. He writes to Sabina." + +"Writes! Isn't he going to see her to-day!" + +"He returns to London to-night." + +Arthur Waldron also asked for news, for Raymond had apparently been +unconscious of his existence at the funeral. He, too, noted the change +in Ironsyde's demeanour. + +"What was it?" he asked, as Mr. Churchouse walked beside him homeward. +"Something is altered. It's more his manner than his appearance. Of +course, he looks played out after his shock, but it's not that. Estelle +thinks it's his black clothes." + +"Stress of mind and anxiety, no doubt. I spoke to him; but he was rather +distant. Not unfriendly--he called me 'Uncle Ernest' as usual--but +distant. His mind is entirely preoccupied with business." + +"What about Sabina?" + +"I asked him. He's writing to her. She wasn't at the funeral. She and +her mother kept away at my advice. But I certainly thought he would come +and see them afterwards. However, the idea hadn't apparently occurred to +him. His mind is full of other things. There was a suggestion of +strength--of power--something new." + +"He must be very strong now," said Estelle. "He will have to be strong, +because the Mill is all his and everything depends upon him. Doesn't +Sabina feel she must be strong, too, Mr. Churchouse?" + +"Sabina is naturally excited. But she is also puzzled, because it seems +strange that anything should come between her and Raymond at a time like +this--even the terrible death of dear Daniel. She has been counting on +hearing from him, and to-day she felt quite sure he would see her." + +"Is the wedding put off then?" + +"I trust not. She is to hear from him to-morrow." + + * * * * * + +Raymond kept his word and before the end of the following day Sabina +received a letter. She had alternated, since Daniel's sudden death, +between fits of depression and elation. She was cast down, because no +communication of any kind had reached her since Raymond hurried off on +the day of the accident; and she was elated, because the future must +certainly be much more splendid for Raymond now. + +She explained his silence easily enough, for much work devolved upon +him; but when he did not come to see her on the day of the funeral, she +was seriously perturbed and grew excited, unstrung and full of +forebodings. Her mother heard from those who had seen him that Raymond +appeared to be abstracted and 'kept himself to himself' entirely; which +led to anxiety on her part also. The letter defined the position. + +"MY DEAREST SABINA,--A thing like the death of my brother, with all that +it means to me, cannot happen without having very far-reaching results. +You may have noticed for some time before this occurred that I felt +uneasy about the future--not only for your sake, but my own--and I had +long felt that we were doing a very doubtful thing to marry. However, as +circumstances were such then, that I should have been in the gutter if I +did not marry, I was going to do so. There seemed to be no choice, +though I felt all the time that I was not doing the fair thing to you, +or myself. + +"Now the case is altered and I can do the fair thing to you and myself, +because circumstances make it possible. I have got tons of money now, +and it is not too much to say that I want you to share it. But not on +the old understanding. I hate and loathe matrimony and everything to do +with it, and now that it is possible to avoid the institution, I intend +to do so. + +"What you have got to do is to put a lot of stupid, conventional ideas +out of your mind, and not worry about other people, and the drivel they +talk, or the idiotic things they say. We weren't conventional last year, +so why the dickens should we be this? I'm awfully keen about you, +Sabina, and awfully keen about the child too; but let us be sane and be +lovers and not a wretched married couple. + +"If you will come and be my housekeeper, I shall welcome you with +rejoicings, and we can go house-hunting again and find something +worthier of us and take bigger views. + +"Don't let this bowl you over and make you savage. It is simply a +question of what will keep us the best friends, and wear best. I am +perfectly certain that in the long run we shall be happier so, than +chained together by a lot of cursed laws, that will put our future +relations on a footing that denies freedom of action to us both. Let's +be pioneers and set a good example to people and help to knock on the +head the imbecile marriage laws. + +"I am, of course, going to put you all right from a worldly point of +view and settle a good income upon you, which you will enjoy +independently of me; and I also recognise the responsibility of our +child. He or she will be my heir, and nothing will be spared for the +youngster. + +"I do hope, my dearest girl, you will see what a sensible idea this is. +It means liberty, and you can't have real love without liberty. If we +married, I am certain that in a year or two we should hate each other +like the devil, and I believe you know that as well as I do. Marriage is +out-grown--it's a barbaric survival and has a most damnable effect on +character. If we are to be close chums and preserve our self-respect, we +must steer clear of it. + +"I am very sure I am right. I've thought a lot about it and heard some +very shrewd men in London speak about it. We are up against a sort of +battle nowadays. The idea of marriage is the welfare of the community, +and the idea of freedom is the welfare of the individual; and I, for +one, don't see in the least why the individual should go down for the +community. What has the community done for us, that we should become +slaves for it? + +"Wealth--at any rate, ample means--does several things for a man. It +opens his eyes to the meaning of power. Power is a fine thing if it's +coupled with sense. Already I see what a poor creature I was--owing to +the accident of poverty. Now you'll find what a huge difference power +makes. It changes everything and turns a child into a man. At any rate, +I've been a child till now. You've got to be childlike if you're poor. + +"So I hope you'll take this in the spirit I write, Sabina, and trust +me, for I'm straight as a line, and my first thought is to make you a +happy woman. That I certainly can do, if you'll let me. + +"I shall be coming home presently; but, for the moment, I must stop +here. There is a gigantic deal of work waiting for me; but working for +myself and somebody else are two very different things. I don't grudge +the work now, since the result of the work means more power. + +"I hope this is all clear. If it isn't, we must thresh it out when we +meet. All I want you to grasp for the moment is that I love you as well +as ever--better than anything in the world--and, because I want us to be +the dearest friends always, I'm not going to marry you. + +"Your mother and Uncle Ernest will of course take the conventional line, +and my Aunt Jennie will do the same; but I hope you won't bother about +them. Your welfare lies with me. Don't let them talk you into making a +martyr of yourself, or any nonsense of that sort. + +"Always, my dearest Sabina, +"Your faithful pal, +"RAY." + +Half an hour later Mrs. Dinnett took the letter in to Mr. Churchouse. + +"Death," she said. "Death is in the air. Sabina has gone to bed and I'm +going for the doctor. He's broke off the engagement and wants her to be +his housekeeper. And this is a Christian country, or supposed to be. +Says it's going to be quite all right and offers her money and a +lifetime of sin!" + +"Be calm, Mary, be calm. You must have misread the letter. Go and get +the doctor by all means if Sabina has succumbed. And leave the letter +with me. I will read it carefully. That is if it is not private." + +"No, it ain't private. He slaps at us all. We're all conventional +people, which means, I suppose, that we fear God and keep the laws. But +if my gentleman thinks--" + +"Go and get the doctor, Mary. Two heads are better than one in a case +of this sort. I feel sure you and Sabina are making a mistake." + +"The world shall ring," said Mrs. Dinnett, "and we'll see if he can show +his face among honest men again. We that have abided by the law all our +days--now we'll see what the law can do for us against this godless +wretch." + +She went off to the village and Ernest cried after her to say nothing at +present. He knew, however, as he spoke that it was vain. + +Then he put away his own work and read the letter very carefully twice +through. + +Profound sorrow came upon him and his innate optimism was over-clouded. +This seemed no longer the Raymond Ironsyde he had known from childhood. +It was not even the Raymond of a month ago. He perceived how potential +qualities of mind had awakened in the new conditions. He was +philosophically interested. So deeply indeed did the psychological +features of the change occupy his reflections, that for a time he +overlooked their immediate and crushing significance in the affairs of +another person. + +Traces of the old Raymond remained in the promises of unbounded +generosity and assurances of devotion; but Mr. Churchouse set no store +upon them. The word that rang truest was Raymond's acute consciousness +of power and appreciation thereof. It had, as he said, opened his eyes. +Under any other conditions than those embracing Sabina and right and +wrong, as Ernest accepted the meaning of right and wrong, he had won +great hope from the letter. It was clear that Raymond had become a man +at a bound and might be expected to develop into a useful man; but that +his first step from adolescence was to involve the destruction of a +woman and child, soon submerged all lesser considerations in the +thinker's mind. Righteousness was implicated, and to start his new +career with a cold-blooded crime made Mr. Churchouse tremble for the +entire future of the criminal. + +Yet he saw very little hope of changing Ironsyde's decision. Raymond +had evidently considered the matter, and though his argument was +abominable in Ernest's view, and nothing more than a cowardly evasion of +his promises, he suspected that the writer found it satisfy his +conscience, since its further education in the consciousness of power. +He did not suppose that any whose opinion he respected would alter +Raymond. It might even be that he was honest in his theories, and +believed himself when he said that marriage would end by destroying his +love for Sabina. But Mr. Churchouse did not pursue that line of +argument. Had not Mary Dinnett just reminded him that this was a +Christian country? + +It was, of course, an immoral and selfish letter. Ernest knew exactly +how it would strike Miss Ironsyde; but he also knew that many people +without principle would view it as reasonable. + +He had to determine what he was going to do, and soon came back to the +attitude he had always taken. An unborn, immortal soul must be +considered, and it was idle for Raymond to talk about making the coming +child his heir. Such undertakings were vain. The young man was volatile +and his life lay before him. That he could make this offer argued an +indifference to Sabina's honour which no promises of temporal comfort +condoned. For that matter he must surely have known while he wrote that +it would be rejected. + +The outlook appeared exceedingly hopeless. Mr. Churchouse rose from his +desk and looked out of the window. It was a grey and silent morning. +Only a big magnolia leaf tapped at the casement and dripped rain from +its point. And overhead, in her chamber, Sabina was lying stricken and +speechless. With infinite commiseration Mr. Churchouse considered what +this must mean to her. It was as though Mrs. Dinnett's hysterical words +had come true. Indeed, the tender-hearted man felt that death was in +his house--death of fair hopes, death of a young and trusting spirit. + +"The rising generation puts a strain on Christianity that I'm sure it +was never called to bear in my youth," reflected Mr. Churchouse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MRS. NORTHOVER DECIDES + + +When Richard Gurd began to consider the case of Nelly Northover, his +mind was very curiously affected. To develop the stages by which he +arrived at his startling conclusions might be attractive, but the +destination is more important than the journey. After twenty-four hours +devoted to this subject alone, Richard had not only decided that Nelly +Northover must not marry Job Legg; he had pushed the problem of his +friend far beyond that point and found it already complicated by a +greater than Job. + +Indeed, the sudden reminder that Nelly was a comely and personable woman +had affected Richard Gurd, and the thought that she should contemplate +marriage caused him some preliminary uneasiness. He could no more see +her married again than he could see himself taking a wife; yet from this +attitude, progress was swift, and the longer he thought upon Mrs. +Northover, the more steadily did his mind drive him into an opinion that +she might reasonably wed again if she desired to do so. And then he +proceeded to the personal concession that there was no radical necessity +to remain single himself. Because he had reached his present ripe age +without a wife, it did not follow he must remain for ever unmarried. He +had no objection to marriage, and continued a bachelor merely because he +had never found any woman desirable in his eyes. Moreover he disliked +children. + +He had reached this stage of the argument before he slept, and when he +woke again, he found his mind considerably advanced along the road to +Nelly. He now came to the deliberate conclusion that he wanted her. The +discovery amazed him, but he could not escape it; and in the light of +such a surprise he became a little dazzled. Sudden soul movements of +such force and complexity made Richard Gurd selfish. It is a fact, that +before he went at the appointed time to see the mistress of 'The Seven +Stars,' he had forgotten all about Job Legg and was entirely concerned +with his own tremendous project. Full grown and complete at all vital +points it sprang from his energetic brain. He had reached the high +personal ambition of wanting to marry Mrs. Northover himself, and their +friendship of many years had been so complete, that he felt sanguine +from the moment that his great determination dawned. + +But she spoke and quickly reminded him of what she was expecting. + +"And how d'you think about it? Shall it be, or shan't it, Richard?" + +They were in the private parlour. + +"Leave that," he said. "I can assure you that little affair is already a +thing of the past. In fact, my mind has moved such a long way since you +came to see me yesterday, that I'd forgot what you came about. But, +after all, that was the starting point. Now a very curious thing has +fallen out, and looking back, I can only say that the wonder is it +didn't fall out long years ago." + +"It did, so far as he was concerned," explained Mrs. Northover. "Mr. +Legg has been hoping for this for years." + +"The Lord often chooses a fool to light the road of the wise, my dear. +Not that Job's a fool, and a more self-respecting man you won't find. In +fact I shall always feel kindly to your potman, for, in a manner of +speaking, you may say he's helped to show me my own duty." + +"I dare say he has; he's a lesson to us all." + +"He is, but, all the same, it's confounding class with class to think of +him as a husband for you. Not that I've got any class prejudice myself. +You can't keep a hotel year in, year out, and allow yourself the luxury +of class prejudice; but be that as it may, Legg, though he adorns his +class, wouldn't adorn ours in my opinion. And yet I'll say this: I +believe it was put to him by Providence to offer for you, so that you +might be lifted to higher things." + +"Speak English, my dear man. I don't exactly know what you're talking +about. But I suppose you mean I'd better not?" + +Mrs. Northover was a little disappointed and Richard perceived it. + +"Be calm, and don't let me sweep you off your feet as I've been swept +off mine," he answered. "Since I discovered marriage was a possibility +in your mind, I am obliged to confess that it's grown up to be a +possibility in mine. And why not?" + +"No reason at all. 'Twas the wonder of Bridport, you might say for +years, why you remained single." + +"Well, this I'll tell you, Nelly; I'm not going to have you marrying any +Dick, Tom or Harry that's daring enough to lift his eyes to you and +cheeky enough to offer. And when the thought came in my mind, I very +soon found that this event rose up ideas that might have slumbered till +eternity, but for Job Legg. And that's why I say Providence is in it. +I've felt a great admiration for your judgment, and good sense, and fine +appearance, ever since the blow fell and your husband was taken. And we +know each other pretty close and have got no secrets from each other. +And now you may say I've suddenly seen the light; and if you've got half +the opinion of me that I have of you, no doubt you'll thank your God to +hear what I'm saying and answer according." + +"Good powers! You want to marry me yourself?" gasped Mrs. Northover. + +"By all your 'Seven Stars' I do," he said. "In fact, I want for 'The +Tiger' to swallow the 'Seven Stars,' in a poetical way of speaking. I'm +a downright man and never take ten minutes where five's enough, so +there it is. It came over me last night as a thing that must be--like +the conversion of Paul. And I'll go further; I won't have you beat about +the bush, Nelly. You're the sort of woman that can make up your mind in +a big thing as quick as you can in a small thing. I consider there's +been a good deal of a delicate and tender nature going on between us, +though we were too busy to notice it; but now the bud have burst into +flower, and I see amazing clear we were made for each other. In fact, I +ain't going to take 'no' for an answer, my dear. I've never asked a +female to marry me until this hour; and I have not waited into greyness +and ripeness to hear a negative. I'm sure of myself, naturally, and I +well know that you'd only be a thought less fortunate than I shall be." + +"Stop!" she said, "and let me think. I'm terrible flattered at this, and +I'll go so far as to say there's rhyme and reason in it, Richard. But +you run on so. I feel my will power fairly oozing out of me." + +"Not at all," he answered. "Your will power's what I rely upon. You're a +forceful person yourself and you naturally approve of forcefulness in +others. There's no reason why you shouldn't love me as well as I love +you; and, for that matter, you do." + +"Well, I must have time. I must drop Legg civilly and break it to him +gradual." + +"I'll meet you there. You needn't tell him you're going to be married +all in a minute. He'll find that out for himself very quick. So will +everybody. If a thing's worth doing, try to do it--that's my motto. But, +for the moment, you can say that your affections are given in another +quarter." + +"Of course, it's a great thing for me, Richard. I'm very proud of it." + +"And so am I. And Job Legg was the dumb instrument, so I am the last to +quarrel with him. Just tell him, that failing another, you might have +thought on him; but that the die is cast; and when he hears his fate, +he'll naturally want to know who 'tis. And then the great secret must +come out. I should reckon after Easter would be a very good time for us +to wed." + +"I can't believe my senses," she said. + +"You will in a week," he assured her; "and, meanwhile, I shall do my +best to help you. In a week the joyful tidings go out to the people." + +He kissed her, shook her hand and squeezed it. Then he departed leaving +Mrs. Northover in the extremity of bewilderment. But pleasure and great +pride formed no small part of her mingled emotions. + +One paramount necessity darkened all, however. Nelly felt a very sharp +pang when she thought upon Mr. Legg, and her sufferings increased as the +day advanced until they quite mastered the situation and clouded the +brightness of conquest. Other difficulties and doubts also obtruded as +she began to estimate the immensity of the thing that Mr. Gurd's ardour +had prompted her to do; but Job was the primal problem and she knew that +she could not sleep until she had made her peace with him. + +She determined to leave him in no doubt concerning his successful rival. +The confession would indeed make it easier for them both. At least she +hoped it might do so. + +He came for keys after closing time and she bade him sit down in the +chair which Richard Gurd had that morning filled. One notes trifles at +the supremest moments of life, and the trifles often stick, while the +great events which accompany them fade into the past. Mrs. Northover +observed that while Richard Gurd had filled the chair--and overflowed, +Mr. Legg by no means did so. He occupied but the centre of the spacious +seat. There seemed a significance in that. + +"Sit down, Job, and listen. I've got to say something that will hurt +you, my dear man. I've made my choice, after a good bit of deep thought +I assure you, and I've--I've chosen the other, Job." + +He stared and his thin jaws worked. His nostrils also twitched. + +"I didn't know there was another." + +"More didn't I," answered she. "I'm nothing if not honest, and I tell +you frankly that I didn't know it either till he offered. He was a +lifelong friend, and I asked him about what I ought to be doing, and +then it came out he had already thought of me as a wife and was biding +his time. He had nought but praise for you, as all men have; but there +it is--Richard Gurd is very wishful to marry me; and you must understand +this clearly, Job. If it had been any lesser man than him, or any other +man in the world, for that matter, I wouldn't have taken him. I'm very +fond of you, and a finer character I've never known; but when Richard +offered--well, you're among the clever ones and I'm sure you'd be the +last to put yourself up against a man of his standing and fame. And my +first husband's lifelong friend, you must remember. And though, after +all these years, it may seem strange to a great many people, it won't +seem strange to you, I hope." + +"It's a very ill-convenient time to hear this," said Mr. Legg mildly. + +Then he stopped and regarded her with his little, shrewd eyes. He seemed +less occupied with the tremendous present than the future. Presently he +went on again, while Mrs. Northover stared at him with an expression of +genuine sadness. + +"All I can say is that I wish Gurd had offered sooner, and not led me +into this tremendous misfortune. Of course, him and me aren't in the +same street and I won't pretend it, for none would be deceived if I did. +But I say again it's very unfortunate he hung fire till he heard that I +had made my offer. For if he'd spoke first, I should have held my peace +and gone on my appointed way and stopped at 'The Seven Stars.' But now, +if this happens, all is over and the course of my life is changed. In +fact, it is not too much to say I shall leave Bridport, though how any +person can live comfortably away from Bridport, I don't know." + +Mrs. Northover felt relief that he should thus fasten on such a minor +issue, and never liked him better than at that moment. "Thank God, he's +took it, lying down!" she thought, then spoke. + +"Don't you leave, my dear man. Bridport won't be Bridport without you, +and you've always been a true and valued friend to me, and such a +helpful and sensible creature that I shall only know in the next world +all I owe you. And between us, I don't see no reason at all why you +shouldn't go on as my potman and--more than that--why shouldn't you +marry a nice woman yourself and bring her here, if you've got a mind to +it!" + +He expressed no indignation. Again, it seemed that the future was his +sole concern and that he designed to waste no warmth on his +disappointment. + +"There never was but one woman for me and never will be; and as to +stopping here, I might, or I might not, for I've always had my feelings +under very nice control and shouldn't break the rule of a lifetime. But +you won't be at 'The Seven Stars' yourself much longer, and I certainly +don't serve under any other but you. In fact this house and garden would +only be a deserted wilderness to my view, if you wasn't reigning over +'em." + +He spoke in his usual emotionless voice, but he woke very active +phenomena in Mrs. Northover. Her face grew troubled and she looked into +his eyes with a frown. + +"Me gone! What do you mean, Legg? Me leave 'The Seven Stars' after +thirty-four years?" + +"No doubt your first would turn in his grave if you did," he admitted; +"but what about it? When you're mistress of 'The Tiger'--well, then +you're mistress of 'The Tiger,' and you can't be in two places at +once--clever as you are." + +He had given her something to think about. The possibility of guile in +Mr. Legg had never struck the least, or greatest, of his admirers. He +was held a simple soul of transparent probity, yet, for a moment, it +almost seemed as though his last remark carried an inner meaning. Nelly +dismissed the suspicion as unworthy of Job; but none the less, though he +had doubtless spoken without any sinister purpose, his opinions gave her +pause. Indeed, they shook her. She had been too much excited to look +ahead. Now she was called to do so. + +Mr. Legg removed the bunch of keys from its nail and prepared to go on +his way. + +She felt weak. + +"To play second fiddle for the rest of your life after playing first for +a quarter of a century is a far-reaching thought," she said. + +"Without a doubt it would be," he admitted. "Of course, with some men +you wouldn't be called to do it. With Richard Gurd, you would." + +"To leave 'The Seven Stars'! Somehow I'd always regarded our place as a +higher class establishment than 'The Tiger'--along of the tea-gardens +and pleasure ground and the class of company." + +"And quite right to do so. But that's only your opinion, and mine. It +won't be his. Good night." + +He left her deep in thought, then five minutes afterwards thrust his +long nose round the door again. + +"The English of it is you can't have anything for nothing--not in this +weary world," he said. + +Then he disappeared. + +A week later Sarah Northover came to see her aunt and congratulate her +on the great news. + +"Now people know it," said Sarah, "they all wonder how ever 'twas you +and Mister Gurd didn't marry long ago." + +"We've been wondering the same, for that matter, and Richard takes the +blame--naturally, since I couldn't say the word before he asked the +question. But for your ear and only yours, Sarah, I can whisper that +this thing didn't go by rule. And in sober honesty I do believe if he +hadn't heard another man wanted me, Mister Gurd would never have found +out he did. But such are the strange things that happen in human nature, +no doubt." + +"Another!" said Sarah. "They're making up for lost time, seemingly." + +"Another, and a good man," declared her aunt; "but his name is sacred, +and you mustn't ask to know it." + +Sarah related events at Bridetown. + +"You've heard, of course, about the goings on? Mister Ironsyde don't +marry Sabina, and her mother wants to have the law against him; but +though Sabina's in a sad state and got to be watched, she won't have the +law. We only hear scraps about it, because Nancy Buckler, her great +friend, is under oath of secrecy. But if he shows his face at Bridetown, +it's very likely he'll be man-handled. Then, against that, there's +rumours in the air he'll make great changes at the Mill, and may put up +all our money. In that case, I don't think he'd be treated very rough, +because, as my Mister Roberts says, 'Self-preservation is the first law +of nature,' and always have been; and if he's going to better us it will +mean a lot." + +"Don't you be too hopeful, however," warned Mrs. Northover. "There's a +deal of difference between holding the reins yourself and saying sharp +things against them who are. He's hard, and last time he was in this +house but one, he got as drunk as a lord and Legg helped him to bed. And +he quarrelled very sharp with Mister Gurd for giving him good advice; +and Richard says the young man is iron painted to look like wood. And +he's rarely mistook." + +"But he always did tell us we never got enough money for our work," +argued Sarah. "And if anything comes of it and Nicholas and me earn five +bob more a week between us, it means marriage. So I'm in a twitter." + +"What does John Best say?" + +"Nought. We can't get a word out of him. All we know is we're cruel +busy and orders flow in like a river. But that was poor Mister Daniel's +work, no doubt." + +"Marriage is in the air, seemingly," reflected Nelly. "It mightn't be +altogether a bad thing if you and me went to the altar together, Sarah. +'Twas always understood you'd be married from 'The Seven Stars,' and the +sight of a young bride and bridegroom would soften the ceremony a bit +and distract the eye from me and Richard." + +"Good Lord!" answered the girl. "There won't be no eyes for small folks +like us on the day you take Mister Gurd. 'Twould be one expense without +a doubt; but I'm certain positive he wouldn't like for us little people +to be mixed up with it. 'Twould lessen the blaze from his point of view, +and a man such as him wouldn't approve of that." + +"Perhaps you're right," admitted her aunt, with a massive sigh. "He's a +masterful piece, and the affair will be carried out as he wills." + +"I can't see you away from 'The Seven Stars,' somehow, Aunt Nelly." + +"That's what everybody says. More can't I see myself away for that +matter. But Richard said 'The Tiger' would swallow 'The Seven Stars,' +and I know what he meant now." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE WOMAN'S DARKNESS + + +The blood of Sabina Dinnett was poisoned through an ordeal of her life +when it should have run at its purest and sweetest. That the man who had +promised to marry her, had exhausted the vocabulary of love for her, +should thus cast her off, struck her into a frantic calenture which, for +a season, threatened her existence. The surprise of his decision was not +absolute and utter, otherwise such a shock might indeed have killed her; +but there lacked not many previous signs to show that Raymond Ironsyde +had strayed from his old enthusiasm and found the approach of marriage +finally quench love. The wronged girl could look back and see a thousand +such warnings, while she remembered also a dark dread in her heart as to +what might possibly overtake her on the death of Daniel. True the shadow +had lasted but a moment; she banished it, as unworthy, and preferred to +dwell on the increased happiness and prosperity that must accrue to +Raymond; but the passing fear had touched her first, and she could look +back now and mark how deeply doubt tinctured all her waking hours since +the necessity arose for Raymond to wed. + +For a few days she raged and was only comforted with difficulty. Mr. +Churchouse and Jenny Ironsyde both visited Sabina and bade her control +herself and keep calm, lest worst things should happen to her. Ernest +was still sanguine that the young man would regret his suggestions; but +Jenny quenched this hope. + +"It is all of a piece," she said, "and, looking back, I see it. His +instinct and will are against any such binding thing as marriage. He +wants to make her happy; but if to do so is to make himself miserable, +then she must go unhappy. Some bad girls might accept his offer; but +Sabina, of course, cannot. She is not made of the stuff to sink to this, +and it was only because he always insisted on the vital need for her to +complete his life, that she forgot her wisdom in the past and believed +they were really the complement of each other. As if a woman ever was, +or ever will be, the real complement of a man, or a man, the complement +of a woman! They are only complementary as meat and drink to the +hungry." + +After some days Sabina read Raymond's letter again and it now awoke a +new passion. At first she had hated herself and talked of doing herself +an injury; but this was hysteria bred of suffering, since she had not +the temperament to commit self-destruction. Now her rage burned against +the child that she was doomed to bring into the world, and she brooded +secretly on how its end might be accomplished. She knew the peril to +herself of any such attempt; but while she could not have committed +suicide, she faced the thought of the necessary risks. If the child +lived, the hateful link must exist forever, if it perished, she would be +free. So she argued. + +Full of this idea, she rose from her bed, went about and found some +little consolation in the sympathy of her friends. They cursed the man +until they heard what he had written to her. Then a change came over +their criticism, for they were not tuned to Sabina's pitch, and it +seemed to them, from their more modest standards of education, combined +with the diminished self-respect where ignorance obtains, that Raymond's +offer was fair--even handsome. Some, indeed, still mourned with her and +shared her fierce indignation; some simulated anger to please her; but +most confessed to themselves that she had not much to grumble at. + +A wise woman warned her against any attempt to tamper with the child. It +was too late and the danger far too serious. So she passed through the +second phase of her sufferings and went from hatred of herself and +loathing of her load, to acute detestation of the man who had destroyed +her. + +His offer seemed to her more villainous than his desertion. His +ignorance of her true self, the insolence and contempt that prompted +such a proposal, the view of her--these thoughts lashed her into fury. +She longed for some one to help her against him and treat him as he +deserved to be treated. She felt equal to making any sacrifice, if only +he might be debased and scorned and pointed at as he deserved to be. She +felt that her emotions must be shared by every honourable woman and +decent man. Her spirit hungered for a great revenge. + +At first she dreamed of a personal action. She longed to tear him with +her nails, outrage him in people's eyes and make him suffer in his +flesh; but that passed: she knew she could not do it. A man was needed +to extort punishment from Raymond. But no man existed who would +undertake the task. She must then find such a man. She even sought him. +But she did not find him. The search led to bitter discoveries. If women +could forgive her betrayer; if women could say, as presently they said, +that she did not know her luck, men were still more indifferent. + +The attitude of the world to her sufferings horrified Sabina. She had +none to love her--none, at least, to show his love by assaulting and +injuring her enemy. Only a certain number even took up the cudgels for +her in speech. Of these Levi Baggs, the hackler, was the strongest. But +his misanthropy embraced her also. He had said harsh things of his new +master; but neither had he spared the victim. + +Upon these three great periods, of rage, futile passion, and hate, there +followed a lethargy from which Ernest Churchouse tried in vain to rouse +Sabina. He apprehended worse results from this coma of mind and body +than from the flux of her natural indignation. He spent much time with +her and bade her hope that Raymond might still reconsider his future. + +None had yet seen him since his brother's funeral, and his aunt +received no answer to a very strenuous plea. He wrote to her, indeed, +about affairs, and even asked her for advice upon certain matters; but +they affected the past and Daniel rather than the future and himself. +She could not fail to notice the supreme change that power had brought +with it; his very handwriting seemed to have acquired a firmer line; +while his diction certainly showed more strength of purpose. Could power +modify character? It seemed impossible. She supposed, rather, that +character, latent till this sudden change of fortune, had been revealed +by power. Her first fears for the future of the business abated; but +with increasing respect for Raymond, the former affection perished. She +was firm in her moral standards, and to find his first use of power an +evasion of solemn and sacred promises, made Miss Ironsyde Raymond's +enemy. That he ignored her appeals to his manhood and honesty did not +modify her changed attitude. She found herself much wounded by his +callous conduct, and while his past weakness had been forgiven, his new +strength proved unforgivable. + +Her appeal was, however, indirectly acknowledged, for Sabina received +another letter from Raymond in which he mentioned Miss Ironsyde's +communication. + +"My aunt," he wrote, "does not realise the situation, or appreciate the +fact that love may remain a much more enduring and lively emotion +outside marriage than inside it. There are, of course, people who find +chains bearable enough, and even grow to like them, as convicts were +said to do; but you are not such a craven, no more am I. We must think +of the future, not the past, and I feel very sure that if we married, +the result would be death to our friendship. We had a splendid time, and +we might still have a splendid time, if you could be unconventional and +realise how many other women are also. But probably you have decided +against my suggestions, or I should have heard from you. So I suppose +you hate me, and I'm awfully sorry to think it. You won't come to me, +then. But that doesn't lessen my obligations, and I'm going to take +every possible care of you and your child, Sabina, whether you come or +not. He is my child, too, and I shan't forget it. If you would like to +see me you shall when I return to Bridport, pretty soon now; but if you +would rather not do so, then let me know who represents you, and I will +hear what you and your mother would wish." + +She wrote several answers to this and destroyed them. They were bitter +and contemptuous, and as each was finished she realised its futility. +She could but sting; she could not seriously hurt. Even her sting would +not trouble him much, for a man who had done what he had done, was proof +against the scorn and hate of a woman. Only greater power than his own +could make him feel. Her powerlessness maddened her--her powerlessness +contrasted with his remorseless strength. But he used his strength like +a coward. + +Some of her friends urged her to take legal action against Raymond +Ironsyde and demand mighty damages. + +"You can hurt him there, if you can't anywhere else," said Nancy +Buckler. "You say you're too weak to hurt him, but you're not. Knock his +money out of him; you ought to get thousands." + +Her mother, for a time, was of the same opinion. It seemed a right and +reasonable thing that Sabina should not be called upon to face her +ruined life without some compensation, but she found herself averse from +this. The thought of touching his money, or availing herself of it in +any way, was horrible to her. She knew, moreover, that such an +arrangement would go far to soothe Raymond's conscience; and the more he +paid, probably the happier he would feel. For other causes also she +declined to take any legal steps against him, and in this decision +Ernest Churchouse supported her. + +He had been her prime consolation indeed, and though, at first, his line +of argument only left Sabina impatient, by degrees--by very slow +degrees--she inclined to him and suffered herself to hope he might not +be mistaken. He urged patience and silence. He held that Raymond +Ironsyde would presently return to that better and worthier self, which +could not be denied him. His own abounding charity, where humanity was +concerned, honestly induced Ernest to hope and almost believe that the +son of Henry Ironsyde had made these proposals under excitation of mind; +that he was thrown off his balance by the pressure of events; and that, +presently, when he had time to remember the facts concerning Sabina, he +would be heartily ashamed of himself and make the only adequate amends. + +It was not unnatural that the girl should find in this theory her +highest consolation. She clung to it desperately, though few but Mr. +Churchouse himself accounted it of any consequence. Him, however, she +had been accustomed to consider the fountain of wisdom, and though, with +womanhood, she had lived to see his opinions mistaken and his trust +often abused, yet disappointments did not change a sanguine belief in +his fellow creatures. + +So, thankful to repose her mind on another, Sabina for a while came to +standing-ground in her storm-stricken journey. Each day was an eternity, +but she strove to be patient. And, meantime, she wrote and posted a +letter to her old lover. It was not angry, or even petulant. Indeed, she +made her appeal with dignity and good choice of words. Before all she +insisted on the welfare of the child, and reminded him of the cruelty +inflicted from birth on any baby unlawfully born in England. + +Mr. Churchouse had instructed her in this matter, and she asked Raymond +if he could find it in his heart to allow the child of their common love +and worship to come into the world unrecognised by the world, deprived +of recognition and human rights. + +He answered the letter vaguely and Mr. Churchouse read a gleam of hope +into his words, but neither Sabina nor her mother were able to do so. +For he spoke only of recognising his responsibilities and paternal duty. +He bade her fear nothing for the child, or herself, and assured her that +her future would be his care and first obligation as long as he lived. + +In these assertions Mr. Churchouse saw a wakening dawn, but Mary Dinnett +declared otherwise. The man was widening the gap; his original idea, +that Sabina should live with him, had dearly been abandoned. + +Then the contradictions of human nature appeared, and Mary, who had been +the first to declare her deep indignation at Raymond's cynical proposal, +began to weaken and even wonder if Sabina had done wisely not to discuss +that matter. + +"Not that ever you should have done it," she hastened to add; "but if +you'd been a bit crafty and not ruled it out altogether, you might have +built on it and got friendly again and gradually worked him back to his +duty." + +Then Mr. Churchouse protested, in the name of righteousness, while she +argued that God helps those that help themselves, and that wickedness +should be opposed with craft. Sabina listened to them helplessly and her +last hope died out. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +OF HUMAN NATURE + + +Nicholas Roberts drove his lathes in a lofty chamber separated by wooden +walls from the great central activities of the spinning mill. Despite +the flying sparks from his emery wheels, he always kept a portrait of +Sarah Northover before him; and certain pictures of notable sportsmen +also hung with Sarah above the benches whereon Nicholas pursued his +task. His work was to put a fresh face on the wooden reels and rollers +that formed a part of the machines; for running hemp or flax will groove +the toughest wood in time, and so ruin the control of the rollers and +spoil the thread. + +The wood curled away like paper before the teeth of the lathes, and the +chisels of these, in their turn, had often to be set upon spinning +stones. It was noisy work, and Nicholas now stopped his grindstone that +he might hear his own voice and that of Mr. Best, who came suddenly into +the shop. + +The foreman spoke of some new wood for roller turning. + +"It should be here this week," he said. "I told them we were running +short. You may expect a good batch of plane and beech by Thursday." + +They discussed the work of Roberts and presently turned to the paramount +question in every mind at the Mill. All naturally desired to know when +Raymond Ironsyde would make his appearance and what would happen when he +did so; but while some, having regard for his conduct, felt he would not +dare to appear again himself, others believed that one so insensible to +honesty and decency would be indifferent to all opinions entertained of +him. Such suspected that the criticisms of Bridetown would be too +unimportant to trouble the new master. + +And it seemed that they were right, for now came Ernest Churchouse +seeking Mr. Best. He looked into the turning-shop, saw John and entered. + +"He's coming next week, but perhaps you know it," he began. "And if you +haven't heard, be sure you will at any moment." + +"Then our fate is in store," declared Nicholas. "Some hope nothing, but, +seeing that with all his faults he's a sportsman, I do hope a bit. +There's plenty beside me who remember his words very well, and they +pointed to an all-around rise for men and women alike." + +"There was a rumour of violence against him. You don't apprehend +anything of that sort, I hope?" asked Ernest of Best. + +"A few--more women than men--had a plot, I believe, but I haven't heard +any more about it. Baggs is the ringleader; but if there was any talk of +raising the money, he'd find himself deserted. He's very bitter just +now, however, and as he's got the pleasant experience of being right for +once, you may be sure he's making the most of it." + +"I'll see him," said Mr. Churchouse. "I always find him the most +difficult character possible; but he must know that to answer violence +with violence is vain. Patience may yet find the solution. I have by no +means given up hope that right will be done." + +"Come and tell Levi, then. Him and me are out for the moment, because I +won't join him in calling down evil on Mister Ironsyde's head. But +what's the sense of losing your temper in other people's quarrels? +Better keep it for your own, I say." + +They found Levi Baggs grumbling to himself over a mass of badly scutched +flax; but when he heard that Raymond Ironsyde was coming, he grew +philosophic. + +"If we could only learn from what we work in," he said, "we'd have the +lawless young dog at our mercy. But, of course, we shall not. Why don't +the yarn teach us a lesson? Why don't it show us that, though the thread +is nought, and you can break it, same as Raymond Ironsyde can break me +or you, yet when you get to the twist, and the doubling and the +trebling, then it's strong enough to defy anything. And if we combined +as we ought, we shouldn't be waiting here to listen to what he's got to +say; we should be waiting here to tell him what we've got to say. If we +had the wit and understanding to twist our threads into one rope against +the wickedness of the world, then we should have it all our own way." + +"Yes--all your own way to do your own wickedness," declared Best. "We +know very well what your idea of fairness is. You look upon capital as a +natural enemy, and if Raymond Ironsyde was an angel with wings, you'd +still feel to him that he was a foe and not a friend." + +"The tradition is in the blood," declared Levi. "Capital is our natural +enemy, as you say. Our fathers knew it, and we know it, and our children +will know it." + +"Your fathers had a great deal more sense than you have, Baggs," +declared Mr. Churchouse. "And if you only remember the past a little, +you wouldn't grumble quite so loudly at the present. But labour has a +short memory and no gratitude, unfortunately. You're always shouting out +what must be done for you; you never spare a thought on what has been +done. You never look back at the working-class drudgery of bygone +days--to the 'forties' of last century, when your fathers went to work +at the curfew bell and earned eighteen-pence a week as apprentices, and +two shillings a week and a penny for themselves after they had learned +their business. A good spinner in those days might earn five shillings a +week, Levi--and that out of doors in fair weather. In foul, he, or she, +wouldn't do so well. If you had told your fathers seventy years ago that +all the spinning walks would be done away with and the population +better off notwithstanding, they would never have believed it." + +"That's the way to look at the subject, Levi," declared John Best. +"Think what the men of the past would have said to our luck--and our +education." + +"Machinery brought the spinning indoors," continued Ernest. "I can +remember forty spinning walks in St. Michael's Lane alone. And with +small wages and long hours, remember the price of things, Levi; remember +the fearful price of bare necessities. Clothes were so dear that many a +labourer went to church in his smock frock all his life. Many never +donned broadcloth from their cradle to their grave. And tea five +shillings a pound, Levi Baggs! They used to buy it by the ounce and brew +it over and over again. Think of the little children, too, and how they +were made to work. Think of them and feel your heart ache." + +"My heart aches for myself," answered the hackler, "because I very well +remember what my own childhood was. And I'm not saying the times don't +better. I'm saying we must keep at 'em, or they'll soon slip back again +into the old, bad ways. Capital's always pulling against labour and +would get back its evil mastery to-morrow if it could. So we need to +keep awake, to see we don't lose what we've won, but add to it. Now +here's a man that's a servant by instinct, and it's in his blood to +knuckle under." + +He pointed to Best. + +"I'm for no man more than another," answered John. "I stand not for man +or woman in particular. I'm for the Mill first and last and always. I +think of what is best for the Mill and put it above the welfare of the +individual, whatever he represents--capital or labour." + +"That's where you're wrong. The people are the Mill and only the +people," declared Baggs. "The rest is iron and steel and flax and hemp +and steam--dead things all. We are the Mill, not the stuff in it, or the +man that happens to be the new master." + +"Mr. Raymond has expressed admirable sentiments in my hearing," +declared Ernest Churchouse. "For so young a man, he has a considerable +grasp of the situation and progressive ideas. You might be in worse +hands." + +"Might we? How worse? What can be worse than a man that lies to women +and seduces an innocent girl under promise of marriage? What can be +worse than a coward and traitor, who does a thing like that, and when he +finds he's strong enough to escape the consequences, escapes them?" + +"Heaven knows I'm not condoning his conduct, Levi. He has behaved as +badly as a young man could, and not a word of extenuation will you hear +from me. I'm not speaking of him as a part of the social order; I'm +speaking of him as master of the Mill. As master here he may be a +successful man and you'll do well to bear in mind that he must be judged +by results. Morally, he's a failure, and you are right to condemn him; +but don't let that make you an enemy to him as owner of the works. Be +just, and don't be prejudiced against him in one capacity because he's +failed in another." + +"A bad man is a bad man," answered Baggs stoutly, "and a blackguard's a +blackguard. And if you are equal to doing one dirty trick, your fellow +man has a right to distrust you all through. You've got to look at a +question through your own spectacles, and I won't hear no nonsense about +the welfare of the Mill, because the welfare of the Mill means to +me--Levi Baggs--my welfare--and, no doubt, it means to that godless rip, +his welfare. You mark me--a man that can ruin one girl won't be very +tender about fifty girls and women. And if you think Raymond Ironsyde +will take any steps to better the workers at the expense of the master, +you're wrong, and don't know nothing about human nature." + +John Best looked at Mr. Churchouse doubtfully. + +"There's sense in that, I'm fearing," he said. + +"When you say 'human nature,' Levi, you sum the whole situation," +answered Ernest mildly. "Because human nature is like the sea--you never +know when you put a net into it what you'll drag up to the light of day. +Human nature is never exhausted, and it abounds in contradictions. You +cannot make hard and fast laws for it, and you cannot, if you are +philosophically inclined, presume to argue about it as though it were a +consistent and unchanging factor. History is full of examples of men +defeating their own characters, of falling away from their own ideals, +yet struggling back to them. Careers have dawned in beauty and promise +and set in blood and failure; and, again, you find people who make a bad +start, yet manage to retrieve the situation. In a word, you cannot argue +from the past to the future, where human nature is concerned. It is a +series of surprises, some gratifying and some very much the reverse. +There's always room for hope with the worst and fear with the best of +us." + +"It's easy for you to talk," growled Mr. Baggs. "But talk don't take the +place of facts. I say a blackguard's always a blackguard and defy any +man to disprove it." + +"If you want facts, you can have them," replied Ernest. "My researches +into history have made me sanguine in this respect. Many have been +vicious in youth and proved stout enemies to vice at a later time. +Themistocles did much evil. His father disowned him--and he drove his +mother to take her own life for grief at his sins. Yet, presently, the +ugly bud put forth a noble flower. Nicholas West was utterly wicked in +his youth and committed such crimes that he was driven from college +after burning his master's dwelling-house. Yet light dawned for this +young man and he ended his days as Bishop of Ely. Titus Vespasianus +emulated Nero in his early rascalities; but having donned the imperial +purple, he cast away his evil companions and was accounted good as well +as great. Henry V. of England was another such man, who reformed himself +to admiration. Augustine began badly, and declared as a jest that he +would rather have his lust satisfied than extinguished. Yet this man +ended as a Saint of Christ. I could give you many other examples, Levi." + +"Then we'll hope for the best," said John. + +But Mr. Baggs only sneered. + +"We hear of the converted sinners," he said; "but we don't hear of the +victims that suffered their wickedness before they turned into saints. +Let Raymond Ironsyde be twenty saints rolled into one, that won't make +Sabina Dinnett an honest woman, or her child a lawful child." + +"Never jump to conclusions," advised Ernest. "Even that may come right. +Nothing is impossible." + +"That's a great thought--that nothing's impossible," declared Mr. Best. + +They argued, each according to his character and bent of mind, and, +while the meliorists cheered each other, Mr. Baggs laughed at them and +held their aspirations vain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE MASTER OF THE MILL + + +Raymond Ironsyde came to Bridetown. He rode in from Bridport, and met +John Best by appointment early on a March morning. + +With the words of Ernest Churchouse still in his ears, the foreman felt +profound interest to learn what might be learned considering the changes +in his master's character. + +He found a new Raymond, yet as the older writing of a parchment +palimpsest will sometimes make itself apparent behind the new, glimpses +of his earlier self did not lack. The things many remembered and hoped +that Ironsyde would remember were not forgotten by him. But instead of +the old, vague generalities and misty assurance of goodwill, he now +declared definite plans based on knowledge. He came armed with figures +and facts, and his method of expression had changed from ideas to +intentions. His very manner chimed with his new power. He was decisive, +and quite devoid of sentimentality. He feared none, but his attitude to +all had changed. + +They spoke in Mr. Best's office and he marked how the works came first +in Raymond's regard. + +"I've been putting in a lot of time on the machine question," he said. +"As you know, that always interested me most before I thought I should +have much say in the matter. Well, there's no manner of doubt we're +badly behind the times. You can't deny it, John. You know better than +anybody what we want, and it must be your work to go on with what you +began to do for my brother. I don't want to rush at changes and then +find I've wasted capital without fair results; but it's clear to me that +a good many of our earlier operations are not done as well and swiftly +as they might be." + +"That's true. The Carder is out of date and the Spreader certainly is." + +"The thing is to get the best substitutes in the market. You'll have to +go round again in a larger spirit. I'm not frightened of risks. Is there +anybody here who can take your place for a month or six weeks?" + +Mr. Best shook his head. + +"There certainly is not," he said. + +"Then we must look round Bridport for a man. I'm prepared to put money +into the changes, provided I have you behind me. I can trust you +absolutely to know; but I advocate a more sporting policy than my poor +brother did. After that we come to the people. I've got my business at +my fingers' ends now and I found I was better at figures than I thought. +There must be some changes. There are two problems: time and money. +Either one or other; or probably both must be bettered--that's what I am +faced with." + +"It wants careful thinking out, sir." + +"Well, you are a great deal more to me than my foreman, and you know it. +I look to you and only you to help me run the show at Bridetown, +henceforth. And, before everything, I want my people to be keen and feel +my good is their good and their good is mine. Anyway, I have based +changes on a fair calculation of future profits, plus necessary losses +and need to make up wear and tear." + +"And remember, raw products tend to rise in price all the time." + +"As to that, I'm none too sure we've been buying in the best market. +When I know more about it, I may travel a bit myself. Meantime, I'm +changing two of our travellers." + +Mr. Best nodded. + +"That's to the good," he said. "I know which. Poor Mr. Daniel would keep +them, because his father had told him they were all they ought to be. +But least said, soonest mended." + +"As to the staff, it's summed up in a word. I mean for them a little +less time and a little more money. Some would like longer hours and much +higher wages; some would be content with a little more money; some only +talked about shorter time. I heard them all air their opinions in the +past. But I've concluded for somewhat shorter hours and somewhat better +money. You must rub it into them that new machinery will indirectly help +them, too, and make the work lighter and the results better." + +"That's undoubtedly true, but it's no good saying so. You'll never make +them feel that new machinery helps them. But they'll be very glad of a +little more money." + +"We must enlarge their minds and make them understand that the better +the machinery, the better their prospects. As I go up--and I mean to--so +they shall go up. But our hope of success lies in the mechanical means +we employ. They must grasp that intelligently, and be patient, and not +expect me to put them before the Mill. If the works succeed, then they +succeed and I succeed. If the works hang fire and get behindhand, then +they will suffer. We're all the servants of the machinery. I want them +to grasp that." + +"It's difficult for them; but no doubt they'll get to see it," answered +John. + +"They must. That's the way to success in my opinion. It's a very +interesting subject--the most interesting to me--always was. The +machinery, I mean. I may go to America, presently. Of course, they can +give us a start and a beating at machinery there." + +"We must remember the driving power," said Best. + +"The driving power can be raised, like everything else. If we haven't +got enough power, we must increase it. I've thought of that, too, as a +matter of fact." + +"You can't increase what the river will do; but, of course, you can get +a stronger steam engine." + +"Not so sure about the river. There's a new thing--American, of +course--called a turbine. But no hurry for that. We've got all the +power we want for the minute. That's one virtue of some of the new +machinery: it doesn't demand so much power in some cases." + +But Best was very sceptical on this point. They discussed other matters +and Raymond detailed his ideas as to the alteration of hours and wages. +For the most part his foreman had no objections to offer, and when he +did question the figures, he was overruled. But he felt constrained to +praise. + +"It's wonderful how you've gone into it," he said. "I never should have +thought you'd have had such a head for detail, Mister Raymond." + +"No more should I, John. I surprised myself. But when you are working +for another person--that's one thing; when you are working for +yourself--that's another thing. Not much virtue in what I've done, as it +is for myself in the long run. When you tell them, explain that I'm not +a philanthropist--only a man of business in future. But before all +things fair and straight. I mean to be fair to them and to the +machinery, too. And to the machinery I look to make all our fortunes. I +should have done a little more to start with--for the people I mean; but +the death duties are the devil. In fact, I start crippled by them. Tell +them that and make them understand what they mean on an enterprise of +this sort." + +They went through the works together presently and it was clear that the +new owner fixed a gulf between the past and the future. His old easy +manner had vanished--and, while friendly enough, he made it quite clear +that a vast alteration had come into his mind and manners. It seemed +incredible that six months before Raymond was chaffing the girls and +bringing them fruit. He called them by their names as of yore; but they +knew in a moment he had moved with his fortunes and their own manner +instinctively altered. + +He was kind and pleasant, but far more interested in their work than +them; and they drew conclusions from the fact. They judged his attitude +with gloom and were the more agreeably surprised when they learned what +advantages had been planned for them. Levi Baggs and Benny Cogle, the +engineman, grumbled that more was not done; but the women, who judged +Raymond from his treatment of Sabina and hoped nothing from his old +promises, were gratified and astonished at what they heard. An improved +sentiment towards the new master was manifest. The instinct to judge +people at your own tribunal awoke, and while Sally Groves and old Mrs. +Chick held out for morals, the other women did not. Already they had +realised that the idle youth they could answer was gone. And with him +had gone the young man who amused himself with a spinner. Of course, he +could not be expected to marry Sabina. Such things did not happen out of +story books; and if you tried to be too clever for your situation, this +was the sort of thing that befell you. + +So argued Nancy Buckler and Mercy Gale; nor did Sarah Northover much +differ from them. None had been fiercer for Sabina than Nancy, yet her +opinion, before the spectacle of Raymond himself and after she heard his +intentions, was modified. To see him so alert, so aloof from the girls, +translated to a higher interest, had altered Nancy. Despite her asperity +and apparent independence of thought, her mind was servile, as the +ignorant mind is bound to be. She paid the unconscious deference of +weakness to power. + +Raymond lunched at North Hill House--now his property. He had not seen +Waldron since the great change in his fortunes and Arthur, with the +rest, was quick to perceive the difference. They met in friendship and +Estelle kissed Raymond as she was accustomed to do; but the alteration +in him, while missed by her, was soon apparent to her father. It took +the shape of a more direct and definite method of thinking. Raymond no +longer uttered his opinions inconsiderately, as though confessing they +were worthless even while he spoke them. He weighed his words, jested +far less often, and did not turn serious subjects into laughter. + +Waldron suggested certain things to his new landlord that he desired +should be done; but he was amused in secret that some work Raymond had +blamed Daniel for not doing, he now refused to do himself. + +"I've no objection, old chap--none at all. The other points you raise I +shall carry out at my own expense; but the French window in the +drawing-room, while an excellent addition to the room, is not a +necessity. So you must do that yourself." Thus he spoke and Arthur +agreed. + +Estelle only found him unchanged. Before her he was always jovial and +happy. He liked to hear her talk and listen to her budding theories of +life and pretty dreams of what the world ought to be, if people would +only take a little more trouble for other people. But Estelle was +painfully direct. She thought for herself and had not yet learned to +hide her ideas, modify their shapes, or muffle their outlines when +presenting them to another person. Mr. Churchouse and her father were +responsible for this. They encouraged her directness and, while knowing +that she outraged opinion sometimes, could not bring themselves to warn +her, or stain the frankness of her views, with the caution that good +manners require thought should not go nude. + +Now the peril of Estelle's principles appeared when lunch was finished +and the servants had withdrawn. + +"I didn't speak before Lucy and Agnes," she said, "because they might +talk about it afterwards." + +"Bless me! How cunning she's getting!" laughed Raymond. But he did not +laugh long. Estelle handed him his coffee and lit a match for his cigar; +while Arthur, guessing what was coming, resigned himself helplessly to +the storm. + +"Sabina is fearfully unhappy, Ray. She loves you so much, and I hope +you will change your mind and marry her after all, because if you do, +she'll love her baby, too, and look forward to it very much. But if you +don't, she'll hate her baby. And it would be a dreadful thing for the +poor little baby to come into the world hated." + +To Waldron's intense relief Raymond showed no annoyance whatever. He was +gentle and smiled at Estelle. + +"So it would, Chicky--it would be a dreadful thing for a baby to come +into the world hated. But don't you worry. Nobody's going to hate it." + +"I'll tell Sabina that. Sabina's sure to have a nice baby, because she's +so nice herself." + +"Sure to. And I shall be a very good friend to the baby without marrying +Sabina." + +"If she knows that, it ought to comfort her," declared Estelle. "And I +shall be a great friend to it, too." + +Her father bade the child be off on an errand presently and expressed +his regrets to the guest when she was gone. + +"Awfully sorry, old chap, but she's so unearthly and simple; and though +I've often told myself to preach to her, I never can quite do it." + +"Never do. She'll learn to hide her thoughts soon enough. Nothing she +can say would annoy me. For that matter she's only saying what a great +many other people are thinking and haven't the pluck to say. The truth +is this, Arthur; when I was a poor man I was a weak man, and I should +have married Sabina and we should both have had a hell of a life, no +doubt. Now the death of Daniel has made me a strong man, and I'm not +doing wrong as the result; I'm doing right. I can afford to do right and +not mind the consequences. And the truth about life is that half the +people who do wrong, only do it because they can't afford to do right." + +"That's a comforting doctrine--for the poor." + +"It's like this. Sabina is a very dear girl, and I loved her +tremendously, and if she'd gone on being the same afterwards, I should +have married her. But she changed, and I saw that we could never be +really happy together as man and wife. There are things in her that +would have ruined my temper, and there are things in me she would have +got to hate more and more. As a matter of brutal fact, Arthur, she got +to dislike me long before things came to a climax. She had to hide it, +because, from her standpoint and her silly mother's, marriage is the +only sort of salvation. Whereas for us it would have been damnation. +It's very simple; she's got to think as I think and then she'll be all +right." + +"You can't make people think your way, if they prefer to think their +own." + +"It's merely the line of least resistance and what will pay her best. I +want you to grasp the fact that she had ceased to like me before there +was any reason why she should cease to like me. I'll swear she had. My +first thought and intention, when I heard what had happened, was to +marry her right away. And what changed my feeling about it, and showed +me devilish clear it would be a mistake, was Sabina herself. We needn't +go over that. But I'm not going to marry her now under any circumstances +whatever, while recognising very clearly my duty to her and the child. +And though you may say it's humbug, I'm thinking quite as much for her +as myself when I say this." + +"I don't presume to judge. You're not a humbug--no good sportsman is in +my experience. If you do everything right for the child, I suppose the +world has no reason to criticise." + +"As long as I'm right with myself, I don't care one button what the +world says, Arthur. There's nothing quicker opens your eyes, or helps +you to take larger views, than independence." + +"I see that." + +"All the same, it's a steadying thing if you're honest and have got +brains in your head. People thought I was a shallow, easy, good-natured +and good-for-nothing fool six months ago. Well, they thought wrong. But +don't think I'm pleased with myself, or any nonsense of that sort. Only +a fool is pleased with himself. I've wasted my life till now, because I +had no ambition. Now I'm beginning it and trying to get things into +their proper perspective. When I had no responsibilities, I was +irresponsible. Now they've come, I'm stringing myself up to meet them." + +"Life's given you your chance." + +"Exactly; and I hope to show I can take it. But I'm not going to start +by making an ass of myself to please a few old women." + +"Where shall you live?" + +"Nowhere in particular for the minute. I shall roam and see all that's +being done in my business and take John Best with me for a while. Then +it depends. Perhaps, if things go as I expect about machinery, I shall +ask you for a corner again in the autumn." + +Mr. Waldron nodded; but he was not finding himself in complete agreement +with Raymond. + +"Always welcome," he said. + +"Perhaps you'd rather not? Well--see how things go. Estelle may bar me. +I'm at Bridport to-night and return to London to-morrow. But I shall be +back again in a week." + +"Shall you play any cricket this summer?" + +"I should like to if I have time; but it's very improbable. I'm not +going to chuck sport though. Next year I may have more leisure." + +"You're at 'The Seven Stars,' I hear--haven't forgiven Dick Gurd he +tells me." + +"Did we quarrel? I forget. Seems funny to think I had enough time on my +hands to wrangle with an innkeeper. But I like Missis Northover's. It's +quiet." + +"Shall I come in and dine this evening?" + +"Wait till I'm back again. I've got to talk to my Aunt Jenny to-night. +She's one of the old brigade, but I'm hoping to make her see sense." + +"When sense clashes with religion, old man, nobody sees sense. I'm +afraid your opinions won't entirely commend themselves to Miss +Ironsyde." + +"Probably not. I quite realise that I shall have to exercise the virtue +of patience at Bridport and Bridetown for a year or two. But while I've +got you for a friend, Arthur, I'm not going to bother." + +Waldron marked the imperious changes and felt somewhat bewildered. +Raymond left him not a little to think about, and when the younger had +ridden off, Arthur strolled afield with his thoughts and strove to bring +order into them. He felt in a vague sort of way that he had been talking +to a stranger, and his hope, if he experienced a hope, was that the new +master of the Mill might not take himself too seriously. "People who do +that are invariably one-sided," thought Waldron. + +Upon Ironsyde's attitude and intentions with regard to Sabina, he also +reflected uneasily. What Raymond had declared sounded all right, yet +Arthur could not break with old rooted opinions and the general view of +conduct embodied in his favourite word. Was it "sporting"? And more +important still, was it true? Had Ironsyde arrived at his determination +from honest conviction, or thanks to the force of changed circumstances? +Mr. Waldron gave his friend the benefit of the doubt. + +"One must remember that he is a good sportsman," he reflected, "and he +can't have enough brains to make him a bad sportsman." + +For the thinker had found within his experience, that those who despised +sport, too often despised also the simple ethics that he associated with +sportsmanship. In fact, Arthur, after one or two painful experiences, +had explicitly declared that big brains often went hand in hand with a +doubtful sense of honour. He had also, of course, known numerous +examples of another sort of dangerous people who assumed the name and +distinction of "sportsman" as a garment to hide their true activities +and unworthy selves. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +CLASH OF OPINIONS + + +Mr. Job Legg, with a persistence inspired by private purpose, continued +to impress upon Nelly Northover the radical truth that in this world you +cannot have anything for nothing. He varied the precept sometimes, and +reminded her that we must not hope to have our cake and eat it too; and +closer relations with Richard Gurd served to impress upon Mrs. Northover +the value of these verities. Nor did she resent them from Mr. Legg. He +had preserved an attitude of manly resignation under his supreme +disappointment. He was patient, uncomplaining and self-controlled. He +did not immediately give notice of departure, but, for the present, +continued to do his duty with customary thoroughness. He showed himself +a most tactful man. New virtues were manifested in the light of the +misfortune that had overtaken him. Affliction and reverse seemed to make +him shine the brighter. Nelly could hardly understand it. Had she not +regarded his character as one of obvious simplicity and incapable of +guile, she might have felt suspicious of any male who behaved with such +exemplary distinction under the circumstances. + +It was, of course, clear that the mistress of 'The Seven Stars' could +not become Mr. Gurd's partner and continue to reign over her own +constellation as of old. Yet Nelly did not readily accept a fact so +obvious, even under Mr. Legg's reiterated admonitions. She felt +wayward--almost wilful about it: and there came an evening when Richard +dropped in for his usual half hour of courting to find her in such a +frame of mind. Humour on his part had saved the situation; but he lacked +humour, and while Nelly, even as she spoke, knew she was talking +nonsense and only waited his reminder of the inevitable in a friendly +spirit, yet, when the reminder came, it was couched in words so forcible +and so direct, that for a parlous moment her own sense of humour broke +down. + +The initial error was Mr. Gurd's. The elasticity of youth, both mental +and physical, had departed from him, and he took her remarks, uttered +more in mischief than in earnest, with too much gravity, not perceiving +that Nelly herself was in a woman's mood and merely uttering absurdities +that he might contradict her. She was ready enough to climb down from +her impossible attitude; but Richard abruptly threw her down; which +unchivalrous action wounded Mrs. Northover to the quick and begat in her +an obstinate and rebellious determination to climb up again. + +"I'm looking on ahead," she began, while they sat in her parlour +together. "This is a great upheaval, Richard, and I'm just beginning to +feel how great. I'm wondering all manner of things. Will you be so happy +and comfortable along with me, at 'The Seven Stars,' as you are at 'The +Tiger'? You must put that to yourself, you know." + +It was so absurd an assumption, that she expected his laughter; and if +he had laughed and answered with inspiration, no harm could have come of +it. But Richard felt annoyed rather than amused. The suggestion seemed +to show that Mrs. Northover was a fool--the last thing he bargained for. +He exhibited contempt. Indeed, he snorted in a manner almost insulting. + +"Woman comes to man, I believe, not man to woman," he said. + +"That is so," she admitted with a touch of colour in her cheeks at his +attitude, "but you must think all round it--which you haven't done yet, +seemingly." + +Then Richard laughed--too late; for a laugh may lose all its value if +the right moment be missed. + +"Where's the fun?" she asked. "I thought, of course, that you'd be +business-like as well as lover-like and would see 'The Seven Stars' had +got more to it than 'The Tiger.'" + +Even now the situation might have been saved. The very immensity of her +claim rendered it ridiculous; but Richard was too astonished to guess an +utterance so hyperbolic had been made to offer him an easy victory. + +"You thought that, Nelly? 'The Seven Stars' more to it than 'The +Tiger'?" + +"Surely!" + +"Because you get a few tea-parties and old women at nine-pence a head on +your little bit of grass?" + +A counter so terrific destroyed the last glimmering hope of a peaceful +situation, and Mrs. Northover perceived this first. + +"It's war then?" she said. "So perhaps you'll tell me what you mean by +my little bit of grass. Not the finest pleasure gardens in Bridport, I +suppose?" + +"Be damned if this ain't the funniest thing I've ever heard," he +answered. + +"You never was one to see a joke, we all know; and if that's the +funniest thing you ever heard, you ain't heard many. And you'll forgive +me, please, if I tell you there's nothing funny in my speaking about my +pleasure gardens, though it does sound a bit funny to hear 'em called 'a +bit of grass' by a man that's got nothing but a few apple trees, past +bearing, and a strip of potatoes and weeds, and a fowl-run. But, as +you've got no use for a garden, perhaps you'll remember the inn yard, +and how many hosses you can put up, and how many I can." + +"It's the number of hosses that comes--not the number you put up," he +answered; "and if you want to tell me you've often obliged with a spare +space in your yard, perhaps I may remind you that you generally got +quite as good as you gave. But be that as it will, the point lies in +one simple question, and I ask you if you really thought, as a woman +nearer sixty than fifty and with credit for sense, that I was going to +chuck 'The Tiger' and coming over to your shop. Did you really think +that?" + +Not for an instant had she thought it; but the time was inappropriate +for saying so. She might have confessed the truth in the past; she might +confess the truth in the future; she was not going to do so at present. +He should have a stab for his stab. + +"You've often told me I was the sensiblest woman in Dorset, Richard, and +being that, I naturally thought you'd drop your bar-loafers' place and +come over to me--and glad to come." + +"Good God!" he said, and stared at her with open nostrils, from which +indignant air exploded in gusts. + +She began to make peace from that moment, feeling that the limit had +been reached. Indeed she was rather anxious. The thrust appeared to be +mortal. Mr. Gurd rolled in his chair, and after his oath, could find no +further words. + +She declared sorrow. + +"There--forgive me--I didn't mean to say that. 'Tis a crying shame to +see two old people dressing one another down this way. I'm sorry if I +hurt your feelings, but don't forget you've properly trampled on mine. +My pleasure grounds are my lifeblood you might say; and you knew it." + +"You needn't apologise now. 'The Tiger' a bar-loafers' place! The centre +of all high-class sport in the district a bar-loafers' place! Well, +well! No wonder you thought I'd be glad to come and live at 'The Seven +Stars'!" + +"I didn't really," she confessed. "I knew very well you wouldn't; but I +had to say it. The words just flashed out. And if I'd remembered a joke +was nothing to you, I might have thought twice." + +"I laughed, however." + +"Yes, you laughed, I grant--what you can do in that direction, which +ain't much." + +Mr. Gurd rose to his full height. + +"Well, that lets me out," he said. "We'd better turn this over in a +forgiving spirit; and since you say you're sorry, I won't be behind you, +though my words was whips to your scorpions and you can't deny it." + +"We'll meet again in a week," said Mrs. Northover. + +"Make it a fortnight," he suggested. + +"No--say a month," she answered--"or six weeks." + +Then it was Richard's turn to feel the future in danger. But he had no +intention to eat humble pie that evening. + +"A month then. But one point I wish to make bitter clear, Nelly. If you +marry me, you come to 'The Tiger.'" + +"So it seems." + +"Yes--bar-loafers, or no bar-loafers." + +"I'll bear it in mind, Richard." + +The leave-taking lacked affection and they parted with full hearts. Each +was smarting under consciousness of the other's failure in nice feeling; +each was amazed as at a revelation. Richard kept his mouth shut +concerning this interview, for he was proud and did not like to confess +even to himself that he stood on the verge of disaster; but Mrs. +Northover held a familiar within her gates, and she did not hesitate to +lay the course of the adventure before Job Legg. + +"The world is full of surprises," said Nelly, "and you never know, when +you begin talking, where the gift of speech will land you. And if you're +dealing with a man who can't take a bit of fun and can't keep his eyes +on his tongue and his temper at the same time, trouble will often +happen." + +She told the story with honesty and did not exaggerate; but Mr. Legg +supported her and held that such a self-respecting woman could have done +and said no less. He declared that Richard Gurd had brought the +misfortune on himself, and feared that the innkeeper's display revealed +a poor understanding of female nature. + +"It isn't as if you was a difficult and notorious sort of woman," +explained Job; "for then the man might have reason on his side; but to +misunderstand you and overlook your playful touch--that shows he's got a +low order of brain; because you always speak clearly. Your word is as +good as your bond and none can question your judgment." + +He proceeded to examine the argument earnestly and had just proved that +Mrs. Northover was well within her right to set 'The Seven Stars' above +'The Tiger,' when Raymond Ironsyde entered. + +He returned from dining with his aunt, and an interview now concluded +was of very painful and far-reaching significance. For they had not +agreed, and Miss Ironsyde proved no more able to convince her nephew +than was he, to make her see his purpose combined truest wisdom and +humanity. + +They talked after dinner and she invited him to justify his conduct if +he could, before hearing her opinions and intentions. He replied at once +and she found his arguments and reasons all arrayed and ready to his +tongue. He spoke clearly and stated his case in very lucid language; but +he irritated her by showing that his mind was entirely closed to +argument and that he was not prepared to be influenced in any sort of +way. Her power had vanished now and she saw how only her power, not her +persuasion, had won Raymond before his brother's death. He spoke with +utmost plainness and did not spare himself in the least. + +"I've been wrong," he said, "but I'm going to try and be right in the +future. I did a foolish thing and fell in love with a good and clever +girl. Once in love, of course, everything was bent and deflected to be +seen through that medium and I believed that nothing else mattered or +ever would. Then came the sequel, and being powerless to resist, I was +going to marry. For some cowardly reason I funked poverty, and the +thought of escaping it made me agree to marry Sabina, knowing all the +time it must prove a failure. That was my second big mistake, and the +third was asking her to come and live with me without marrying her. I +suggested that, because I wanted her and felt very keen about the child. +I ought not to have thought of such a thing. It wasn't fair to her--I +quite see that." + +"Can anything be fair to her short of marriage?" + +"Not from her point of view, Aunt Jenny." + +"And what other point of view, in keeping with honour and religion, +exists?" + +"As to religion, I'm without it and so much the freer. I don't want to +pretend anything I don't feel. I shall always be very sorry, indeed, for +what I did; but I'm not going to wreck my life by marrying Sabina." + +"What about her life?" + +"If she will trust her life to me, I shall do all in my power to make it +a happy and easy life. I want the child to be a success. I know it will +grow up a reproach to me and all that sort of thing in the opinion of +many people; but that won't trouble me half as much as my own regrets. +I've not done anything that puts me beyond the, pale of humanity--nor +has Sabina; and if she can keep her nerve and go on with her life, it +ought to be all right for her, presently." + +"A very cynical attitude and I wish I could change it, Raymond. You've +lost your self-respect and you know you've done a wrong thing. Can't you +see that you'll always suffer it if you take no steps to right it? You +are a man of feeling, and power can't lessen your feeling. Every time +you see that child, you will know that you have brought a living soul +into the world cruelly handicapped by your deliberate will." + +"That's not a fair argument," he answered. "If our rotten laws handicap +the baby, it will be my object to nullify the handicap to the best of my +ability. The laws won't come between me and my child, any more than they +came between me and my passion. I'm not the sort to hide behind the mean +English law of the natural child. But I'm not going to let that law +bully me into marriage with Sabina. I've got to think of myself as well +as other people. I won't say, what's true--that if Sabina married me she +wouldn't be happy in the long run; but I will say that I know I +shouldn't be, and I'm not prepared to pay any penalty whatever for what +I did, beyond the penalty of my own regrets." + +"If you rule religion out and think you can escape and keep your honour, +I don't know what to say," she answered. "For my part I believe Sabina +would make you a very good and loving wife. And don't fancy, if you +refuse her what faithfully you promised her, she will be content with +less." + +"That's her look out. You won't be wise, Aunt Jenny, to influence her +against a fair and generous offer. I want her to live a good life, and I +don't want our past love-making to ruin that life, or our child to ruin +that life. If she's going to pose as a martyr, I can't help it. That's +the side of her that wrecked the show, as a matter of fact, and made it +very clear to me that we shouldn't be a happy married couple." + +"Self-preservation is a law of nature. She only did what any girl would +have done in trying to find friends to save her from threatened +disaster." + +"Well, I dare say it was natural to her to take that line, and it was +equally natural to me to resent it. At any rate we know where we stand +now. Tell me if there's anything else." + +"I only warn you that she will accept no benefits of any kind from you, +Raymond. And who shall blame her?" + +"That's entirely her affair, of course. I can't do more than admit my +responsibilities and declare my interest in her future." + +"She will throw your interest back in your face and teach her child to +despise you, as she does." + +"How d'you know that, Aunt Jenny?" + +"Because she's a proud woman. And because she would lose the friendship +of all proud women and clean thinking men if she condoned what you +intend to do. It's horrible to see you turned from a simple, stupid, but +honourable boy, into a hard, selfish, irreligious man--and all the +result of being rich. I should never have thought it could have made +such a dreadful difference so quickly. But I have not changed, Raymond. +And I tell you this: if you don't marry Sabina; if you don't see that +only so can you hold up your head as an honest man and a respectable +member of society, worthy of your class and your family, then, I, for +one, can have no more to do with you. I mean it." + +"I'm sorry you say that. You've been my guardian angel in a way and I've +a million things to thank you for from my childhood. It would be a great +grief to me, Aunt Jenny, if you allowed a difference of opinion to make +you take such a line. I hope you'll think differently." + +"I shall not," she said. "I have not told you this on the spur of the +moment, or before I had thought it out very fully and very painfully. +But if you do this outrageous thing, I will never be your aunt any more, +Raymond, and never wish to see you again as long as I live. You know me; +I'm not hysterical, or silly, or even sentimental; but I'm jealous for +your father's name--and your brother's. You know where duty and honour +and solemn obligation point. There is no reason whatever why you should +shirk your duty, or sully your honour; but if you do, I decline to have +any further dealings with you." + +He rose to go. + +"That's definite and clear. Good-bye, Aunt Jenny." + +"Good-bye," she said. "And may God guide you to recall that 'good-bye,' +nephew." + +Then he went back to 'The Seven Stars,' and wondered as he walked, how +the new outlook had shrunk up this old woman too, and made one, who +bulked so largely in his life of old, now appear as of no account +whatever. He was heartily sorry she should have taken so unreasonable a +course; but he grieved more for her sake than his own. She was growing +old. She would lack his company in the time to come, and her heart was +too warm to endure this alienation without much pain. + +He suspected that if Sabina's future course of action satisfied Miss +Ironsyde, she would be friendly to her and the child and, in time, +possibly win some pleasure from them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE BUNCH OF GRAPES + + +Raymond proceeded with his business at Bridetown oblivious of persons +and personalities. He puzzled those who were prepared to be his enemies, +for it seemed he was becoming as impersonal as the spinning machines, +and one cannot quarrel with a machine. + +It appeared that he was to be numbered with those who begin badly and +retrieve the situation afterwards. So, at least, hoped Ernest +Churchouse, yet, since the old man was called to witness and endure a +part of the sorrows of Sabina and her mother, it demanded large faith on +his part to anticipate brighter times. He clung to it that Raymond would +yet marry Sabina, and he regretted that when the young man actually +offered to see Sabina, she refused to see him. For this happened. He +came to stop at North Hill House for two months, while certain experts +were inspecting the works, and during this time he wished to visit 'The +Magnolias' and talk with Sabina, but she declined. + +The very active hate that he had awakened sank gradually to smouldering +fires of bitter resentment and contempt. She spoke openly of destroying +their babe when it should be born. + +Then the event happened and Sabina became the mother of a man child. + +Raymond was still with Arthur Waldron when Estelle brought the news, and +the men discussed it. + +"I hope she'll be reasonable now," said Ironsyde. "It bothered me when +she refused to see me, because you can't oppose reason to stupidity of +that sort. If she's going to take my aunt's line, of course, I'm done, +and shall be powerless to help her. I spoke to Uncle Ernest about it two +days ago. He says that it will have to be marriage, or nothing, and +seemed to think that would move me to marriage! Some people can't +understand plain English. But why should she cut off her nose to spite +her face and refuse my friendship and help because I won't marry her?" + +"She's that sort, I suppose. Of course, plenty of women would do the +same." + +"I'm not convinced it's Sabina really who is doing this. That's why I +wanted to see her. Very likely Aunt Jenny is inspiring such a silly +attitude, or her mother. They may think if she's firm I may yield. They +don't seem to realise that love's as dead as a doornail now. But my duty +is clear enough and they can't prevent me from doing it, I imagine." + +"You want to be sporting to the child, of course." + +"And to the mother of the child. Damn it all, I'm made of flesh and +blood. I'm not a fiend. But with women, if you have a grain of +common-sense and reasoning power, you become a fiend the moment there's +a row. I want Sabina and my child to have a good show in the world, +Arthur." + +"Well, you must let her know it." + +"I'll see her, presently. I'll take no denial about that. It may be a +pious plot really, for religious people don't care how they intrigue, if +they can bring off what they want to happen. It was very strange she +refused to see me. Perhaps they never told her that I offered to come." + +"Yes, they did, because Estelle heard Churchouse tell her. Estelle was +with her at the time, and she said she was so sorry when Sabina refused. +It may have been because she was ill, of course." + +"I must see her before I go away, anyway. If they've been poisoning her +mind against me, I must put it right." + +"You're a rum 'un! Can't you see what this means to her? You talk as if +she'd no grievance, and as though it was all a matter of course and an +everyday thing." + +"So it is, for that matter. However, there's no reason for you to bother +about it. I quite recognise what it is to be a father, and the +obligations. But because I happen to be a father, is no reason why I +should be asked to do impossibilities. Because you've made a fool of +yourself once is no reason why you should again. By good chance I've had +unexpected luck in life and things have fallen out amazingly well--and +I'm very willing indeed that other people should share my good luck and +good fortune. I mean that they shall. But I'm not going to negative my +good fortune by doing an imbecile thing." + +"As long as you're sporting I've got no quarrel with you," declared +Waldron. "I'm not very clever myself, but I can see that if they won't +let you do what you want to do, it's not your fault. If they refuse to +let you play the game--but, of course, you must grant the game looks +different from their point of view. No doubt they think you're not +playing the game. A woman's naturally not such a sporting animal as a +man, and what we think is straight, she often doesn't appreciate, and +what she thinks is straight we often know is crooked. Women, in fact, +are more like the other nations which, with all their excellent +qualities, don't know what 'sporting' means." + +"I mean to do right," answered Raymond, "and probably I'm strong enough +to make them see it and wear them down, presently. I'm really only +concerned about Sabina and her child. The rest, and what they think and +what they don't think, matter nothing. She may listen to reason when +she's well again." + +Two days later Raymond received a box from London and showed Estelle an +amazing bunch of Muscat grapes, destined for Sabina. + +"She always liked grapes," he said, "and these are as good as any in the +world at this moment." + +On his way to the Mill he left the grapes at 'The Magnolias,' and spoke +a moment with Mr. Churchouse. + +"She is making an excellent recovery," said Ernest, "and I am hoping +that, presently, the maternal instinct will assert itself. I do +everything to encourage it. But, of course, when conditions are +abnormal, results must be abnormal. She's a very fine and brave woman +and worthy of supreme admiration. And worthy of far better and more +manly treatment than she has received from you. But you know that very +well, Raymond. Owing to the complexities created by civilisation +clashing with nature, we get much needless pain in the world. But a +reasonable being should have recognised the situation, as you did not, +and realise that we have no right to obey nature if we know at the same +time we are flouting civilisation. You think you're doing right by +considering Sabina's future. You are a gross materialist, Raymond, and +the end of that is always dust and ashes and defeated hopes. I won't +bring religion into it, because that wouldn't carry weight with you; but +I bring justice into it and your debt to the social order, that has made +you what you are and to which you owe everything. You have done a grave +and wicked wrong to the new-born atom of life in this house, and though +it is now too late wholly to right that wrong, much might yet be done. I +blame you, but I hope for you--I still hope for you." + +He took the grapes, and Raymond, somewhat staggered by this challenge, +found himself not ready to answer it. + +"We'll have a talk some evening, Uncle Ernest," he answered. "I don't +expect your generation to see this thing from my point of view. It's +reasonable you shouldn't, because you can't change; and it's also +reasonable that I shouldn't see it from your point of view. If I'm +material, I'm built so; and that won't prevent me from doing my duty." + +"I would talk the hands round the clock if I thought I could help you +to see your duty with other eyes than your own," replied the old man. "I +am quite ready to speak when you are to listen. And I shall begin by +reminding you that you are a father. You expect Sabina to be a mother in +the full meaning of that beautiful word; but a child must have a father +also." + +"I am willing to be a father." + +"Yes, on your own values, which ignore the welfare of the community, +justice to the next generation, and the respect you should entertain for +yourself." + +"Well, we'll thresh it out another time. You know I respect you very +much, Uncle Ernest; and I'm sure you'll weigh my point of view and not +let Aunt Jenny influence you." + +"I have a series of duties before me," answered Mr. Churchouse; "and not +least among them is to reconcile you and your aunt. That you should have +broken with your sole remaining relative is heart-breaking." + +"I'd be friends to-morrow; but you know her." + +He went away to the works and Ernest took the grapes to Mrs. Dinnett. + +"You'd better not let her have them, however, unless the doctor permits +it," said Mr. Churchouse, whereupon, Mary, not trusting herself to +speak, took the grapes and departed. The affront embodied in the fruit +affected a mind much overwrought of late. She took the present to +Sabina's room. + +"There," she said. "He's sunk to sending that. I'd like to fling them in +his face." + +"Take them away. I can't touch them." + +"Touch them! And poisoned as likely as not. A man that's committed his +crimes would stick at nothing." + +"He uses poison enough," said the young mother; "but only the poison he +can use safely. It matters nothing to him if I live or die. No doubt +he'd will me dead, and this child too, if he could; but seeing he can't, +he cares nothing. He'll heap insult on injury, no doubt. He's made of +clay coarse enough to do it. But when I'm well, I'll see him and make it +clear, once for all." + +"You say that now. But I hope you'll never see him, or breathe the same +air with him." + +"Once--when I'm strong. I don't want him to go on living his life +without knowing what I'm thinking of him. I don't want him to think he +can pose as a decent man again. I want him to know that the road-menders +and road-sweepers are high above him." + +"Don't you get in a passion. He knows all that well enough. He isn't +deceiving himself any more than anybody else. All honest people know +what he is--foul wretch. Yes, he's poisoned three lives, if no more, and +they are yours and mine and that sleeping child's." + +"He's ruined his aunt's life, too. She's thrown him over." + +"That won't trouble him. War against women is what you'd expect. But +please God, he'll be up against a man some day--then we shall see a +different result. May the Almighty let me live long enough to see him in +the gutter, where he belongs. I ask no more." + +They poured their bitterness upon Raymond Ironsyde; then a thought came +into Mary Dinnett's mind and she left Sabina. Judging the time, she put +on her bonnet presently and walked out to the road whence Raymond would +return from his work at the luncheon hour. + +She stood beside the road at a stile that led into the fields, and as +Raymond, deep in thought, passed her without looking up, he saw +something cast at his feet and for a moment stood still. With a soft +thud his bunch of grapes fell ruined in the dust before him and, +starting back, he looked at the stile and saw Sabina's mother gazing at +him red-faced and furious. Neither spoke. The woman's countenance told +her hatred and loathing; the man shrugged his shoulders and, after one +swift glance at her, proceeded on his way without quickening or +slackening his stride. + +He heard her spit behind him and found time to regret that a woman of +Mary's calibre should be at Sabina's side. Such concentrated hate +astonished him a little. There was no reason in it; nothing could be +gained by it. This senseless act of a fool merely made him impatient. +But he smiled before he reached North Hill House to think that but for +the interposition of chance and fortune, this brainless old woman might +have become his mother-in-law. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +A TRIUMPH OF REASON + + +Mrs. Northover took care that her interrupted conversation with Job Legg +should be completed; and he, too, was anxious, that she should know his +position. But he realised the danger very fully and was circumspect in +his criticism of Richard Gurd's attitude toward 'The Seven Stars.' + +"For my part," said Job on the evening that preceded a very important +event, "I still repeat that you have a right to consider we're higher +class than 'The Tiger'; and to speak of the renowned garden as a 'bit of +grass' was going much too far. It shows a wrong disposition, and it +wasn't a gentlemanly thing, and if it weren't such a wicked falsehood, +you might laugh at it for jealousy." + +"Who ever would have thought the man jealous?" she asked. + +"These failings will out," declared Mr. Legg. "And seeing you mean to +take him, it is as well you know it." + +She nodded rather gloomily. + +"Your choice of words is above praise, I'm sure, Job," she said. "For +such a simple and straightforward man, you've a wonderful knowledge of +the human heart." + +"Through tribulation I've come to it," he answered. "However, I'm here +to help you, not talk about my own bitter disappointments. And very +willing I am to help you when it can be done." + +"D'you think you could speak to Richard for me, and put out the truth +concerning 'The Seven Stars'?" she asked. But Mr. Legg, simple though he +might be, was not as simple as that. + +"No," he replied. "There's few things I wouldn't do for you, on the +earth or in the waters under the earth, and I say that, even though +you've turned me down after lifting the light of hope. But for me to see +Gurd on this subject is impossible. It's far too delicate. Another man +might, but not me, because he knows that I stand in the unfortunate +position of the cast out. So if there's one man that can't go to Gurd +and demand reparation on your account, I'm that man. In a calmer moment, +you'll be the first to see it." + +"I suppose that is so. He'd think, if you talked sense to him, you had +an axe to grind and treat you according. You've suffered enough." + +"I have without a doubt, and shall continue to do so," he answered her. + +"I think just as much of you as ever I did notwithstanding," said Mrs. +Northover. "And I'll go so far as to say that your simple goodness and +calm sense under all circumstances might wear better in the long run +than Richard's overbearing way and cruel conceit. Be honest, Job. Do you +yourself think 'The Tiger' is a finer house and more famous than my +place?" + +Mr. Legg perceived very accurately where Nelly suffered most. + +"This house," he declared, "have got the natural advantages and Gurd +have got the pull in the matter of capital. My candid opinion, what I've +come to after many years of careful thought on the subject, is that if +we--I say 'we' from force of habit, though I'm in the outer darkness +now--if we had a few hundred pounds spending on us and an advertisement +to holiday people in the papers sometimes, then in six months we +shouldn't hear any more about 'The Tiger.' Cash, spent by the hand of a +master on 'The Seven Stars,' would lift us into a different house and we +should soon be known to cater for a class that wouldn't recognise 'The +Tiger.' What we want is a bit of gold and white paint before next summer +and all those delicate marks about the place that women understand and +value. I've often thought that a new sign for example, with seven golden +stars on a sky blue background, and perhaps even a flagstaff in the +pleasure grounds, with our own flag flying upon it, would, as it were, +widen the gulf between him and you. But, of course, that was before +these things happened, and when I was thinking, day and night you may +say, how to catch the custom." + +Mrs. Northover sighed. + +"In another man, it would be craft to say such clever things," she +answered; "but, in you, I know it's just simple goodness of heart and +Christian fellowship. 'Tis amazing how we think alike." + +"Not now," he corrected her. "Too late now. I wish to God we had thought +alike; for then, instead of looking at my money as I'd look at a pile of +road scrapings, I should see it with very different eyes. My windfall +would have been poured out here in such a fashion that the people would +have wondered. This place is my life, in a manner of speaking. My +earthly life, I mean; which you may say is ended now. I was, in my own +opinion, as much a part of 'The Seven Stars,' as the beer engine. And +when uncle died this was my first thought. Or I should say my second, +because in the natural course of events, you were the first." + +She sighed again and Mr. Legg left this delicate ground. + +"If the man can only be brought to see he's wrong about his fanciful +opinion of 'The Tiger,' all may go right for you," he continued. "I +don't care for his feelings over-much, but your peace of mind I do +consider. At present he dares to think you're a silly woman whose goose +is a swan. That's very disorderly coming from the man who's going to +marry you. Therefore you must get some clear-sighted person to open his +eyes, and make it bitter clear to him that 'The Tiger' never was and +never will be a place to draw nice minds and the female element like +us." + +"There's nobody could put it to him better than you," she said. + +"At another time, perhaps--not now. I'm not clever, Nelly; but I'm too +clever to edge in between a man like Gurd and his future wife. If we +stood different, then nobody would open his mouth quicker than me." + +"We may stand different yet," she answered. "There was a good deal of +passion when we met, and not the sort of passion you expect between +lovers, either." + +"If that is so," he answered, "then we can only leave it for the future. +But this I'll certainly say: if you tell me presently that you're free +to the nation once more and have changed your mind about Richard, then +I'd very soon let him know there's a gulf fixed between 'The Tiger' and +'The Seven Stars'; and if you said the word, he'd see that gulf getting +broader and broader under his living eyes." + +"I'd have overlooked most anything but what he actually said," she +declared. "But to strike at the garden--However, I'll see him, and if I +find he's feeling like what I am, it's quite in human reason that we may +undo the past before it's too late." + +"And always remember it's his own will you shall live at 'The Tiger,'" +warned Job. "Excuse my bluntness in reminding you of his words; which, +no doubt, you committed to memory long before you told me about 'em; but +the point lies there. You can't be in two places at once, and so sure as +you sign yourself 'Gurd,' you'll sell, or sublet 'The Seven Stars.' In +fact, even a simple brain like mine can see you'll sell, for Richard +will never be content to let you serve two masters; and where the +treasure is, there will the heart be also. And to one of your delicate +feelings, to know strange hands are in this house, and strange things +being done, and liberties taken with the edifice and the garden, very +likely. But I don't want to paint any such dreadful picture as that, +and, of course, if you honestly love Richard, though you're the first +woman that ever could--then enough said." + +"The question is whether he loves me. However, I'll turn it over; and no +doubt he will," she answered. "I see him to-morrow." + +"And don't leave anything uncertain, if I may advise," concluded Mr. +Legg. "I speak as a child in these matters; but, if he's looking at this +thing same as you are, and if you both feel you'd be finer ornaments of +society apart, than married, all I say is don't let any false manhood on +his part, or modesty on yours, keep you to it. Better be good neighbours +than bad partners. And if I've said too much, God forgive me." + +Fired by these opinions Nelly went to her meeting with Richard and the +first words uttered by Mr. Gurd sent a ray of warmth to her heart, for +it seemed he also had reviewed the situation in a manner worthy of his +high intelligence. + +But he approached the subject uneasily and Mrs. Northover was too much a +woman to rescue him at once. She had been through a good deal and felt +it fair that the master of 'The Tiger' should also suffer. + +"It's borne in upon me," he said, after some generalities and vague +hopes that Nelly was well, "that, perhaps, there's no smoke without +fire, as the saying is." + +"Meaning what?" asked she. + +"Meaning, that though we flared up a bit and forgot what we owe to +ourselves, there must have been a reason for so much feeling." + +"There certainly was." + +"We needn't go back over the details; but you may be sure there must +have lurked more behind our row than just a difference of opinion. +People don't get properly hot with each other unless there's a reason, +Nelly, and I'm beginning to fear that the reason lies deeper than we +thought." + +He waited for her to speak; but she did not. + +"You mustn't think me shifty, or anything of that kind; but I do feel, +where there was such a lot of smoke and us separated all these weeks, +and none the worse for separation apparently, that, if we was to take +the step--in a word, it's come over me stronger and stronger that we +might do well to weigh what we're going to do in the balance before we +do it." + +Her delight knew no bounds. But still she did not reply, and Mr. Gurd +began to grow red. + +"If, by your silence, you mean that I'm cutting a poor figure before +you, and you think I want to be off our bargain, you're wrong," he said. +"Your mind ought to move quicker and I don't mind telling you so. I'm +not off my bargain, because I'm a man of honour, and my word, given to +man, woman or child, is kept. And if you don't know that, you're the +only party in Bridport that don't. But I say again, there's two sides to +it, and look before you leap, though not a maxim women are very addicted +to following, is a good rule for all that. So I'll ask you how the land +lies, if you please. You've turned this over same as me; and I'll be +obliged if you'll tell me how you're viewing it." + +"In other words you've changed your mind?" + +"My mind can wait. I may have done so, or I may not; but to change my +mind ain't to change my word, so you need have no anxiety on that +account." + +"Far from being anxious," answered Mrs. Northover, "I never felt so +light-hearted since I was a girl, Richard. For why? My name for honest +dealing is as high as yours, I believe, and if you'd come back to me and +asked for bygones to be bygones, I should have struggled with it, same +as you meant to do. But, seeing you're shaken, I'm pleased to tell, that +I'm shaken also. In fact, 'shaken' isn't a strong enough word. I'm +thankful to Heaven you don't want to go on with it, because, more don't +I." + +"If anything could make me still wish to take you, it's to hear such +wisdom," declared Mr. Gurd, after a noisy expiration of thanksgiving. "I +might have known you wasn't behind me in brain power, and I might have +felt you'd be bound to see this quite as quick as me, if not quicker. +And I'm sure nothing could make me think higher of you than to hear +these comforting words." + +Mrs. Northover used an aphorism from Mr. Legg. + +"Our only fault was not to see each other's cleverness," she said, "or +to think for a moment, after what passed between us, we could marry +without loss of self-respect. It's a lot better, Richard, to be good +neighbours than bad partners. And good neighbours we always have been +and shall be; and whether we'd be good partners or not is no matter; we +won't run the risk." + +"God bless you!" he answered. "Then we part true friends, and if +anything could make me feel more friendly than I always have felt, it is +your high-mindedness, Nelly. For high-mindedness there never was your +equal. And if many and many a young couple, that flies together and then +feels the call to fly apart again, could only approach the tender +subject with your fair sight and high reasoning powers, it would be a +happier world." + +"There's only one thing left," concluded Mrs. Northover, "and that's to +let the public know we've changed our minds. With small people, that +wouldn't matter; but with us, we can't forget we've been on the centre +of the stage lately; and it would never do to let the people suppose +that we had quarrelled, or sunk to anything vulgar." + +"Leave it to me," he answered. "It only calls for a light hand. I shall +pass it off with one of my jokes, and then people will treat it in a +laughing spirit and not brood over it. Folk are quick to take a man's +own view on everything concerning himself if he's got the art to +convince." + +"We'll say that more marriages are made on the tongues of outsiders than +ever come to be celebrated in church," suggested Mrs. Northover, "and +then people will begin to doubt if it wasn't all nonsense from the +first." + +"And they won't be far wrong if they do. It was nonsense; and if we say +so in the public ear, none will dare to doubt it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE OFFER DECLINED + + +Estelle talked to Raymond and endeavoured to interest him in Sabina's +child. + +"Everybody who understands babies says that he's a lovely and perfect +one," declared Estelle. "I hope you're going to look at him before you +go away, because he's yours. And I believe he will be like you, some +day. Do the colours of babies' eyes change, like kittens' eyes, Ray?" + +"Haven't the slightest idea," he answered. "You may be quite sure I +shall take care of it, Estelle, and see that it has everything it +wants." + +"Somehow they're not pleased with you all the same," she answered. "I +don't understand about it, but they evidently feel that you ought to +have married Sabina. I suppose you're not properly his father if you +don't marry her?" + +"That's nonsense, Estelle. I'm quite properly his father, and I'm going +to be a jolly good father too. But I don't want to be married. I don't +believe in it." + +"If Sabina knew you were going to love him and be good to him, she would +be happier, I hope." + +"I'm going to see her presently," he said. + +"And see the baby?" + +"Plenty of time for that." + +"There's time, of course, Ray. But he's changing. He's five weeks old +to-morrow, and I can see great changes. He can just begin to laugh now. +Things amuse him we don't know. I expect babies are like dogs and can +see what we can't." + +"I'll look at him if Sabina likes." + +"Of course she'll like. It's rather horrid of you, in a way, being able +to go on with your work for so many weeks without looking at him. It's +really rather a slight on Sabina, Ray. If I'd had a baby, and his father +wouldn't look at him for week after week, I should be vexed. And so is +Sabina." + +"Next time you see her, ask her to name a day and I'll go whenever she +likes." + +Estelle was delighted. + +"That's lovely of you and it will cheer her up very much, for certain," +she answered. Then she ran away, for to arrange such a meeting seemed +the most desirable thing in the world to her at that moment. To Sabina +she went as fast as her legs could take her, and appreciating that he +had sent this guileless messenger to ensure a meeting without +preliminaries and without prejudice, Sabina hid her feelings and +specified a time on the following day. + +"If he'll come to see me to-morrow in the dinner-hour, that will be +best. I'll be alone after twelve o'clock." + +"You'll show him the baby, won't you, Sabina?" + +"He won't want to see it." + +"Why not?" + +"Does he want to?" + +"Honestly he doesn't seem to understand how wonderful the baby is," +explained the child. "Ray's going to be a splendid father to him, +Sabina. He's quite interested; only men are different from us. Perhaps +they never feel much interest till babies can talk to them. My father +says he wasn't much interested in me till I could talk, so it may be a +general thing. But when Ray sees him, he'll be tremendously proud of +him." + +Sabina said no more, and when Raymond arrived to see her at the time she +appointed, he found her waiting near the entrance of 'The Magnolias.' + +She wore a black dress and was looking very well and very handsome. But +the expression in her eyes had changed. He put out his hand, but she did +not take it. + +"Mister Churchouse has kindly said we can talk in the study, Mister +Ironsyde." + +He followed her, and when they had come to the room, hoped that she was +quite well again. Then he sat in a chair by the table and she took a +seat opposite him. She did not reply to his wish for her good health, +but waited for him to speak. She was not sulky, but apparently +indifferent. Her fret and fume were smothered of late. Now that the +supreme injury was inflicted and she had borne a child out of wedlock, +Sabina's frenzies were over. The battle was lost. Life held no further +promises, and the denial of the great promise that it had offered and +taken back again, numbed her. She was weary of the subject of herself +and the child. She could even ask Mr. Churchouse for books to occupy her +mind during convalescence. Yet the slumbering storm in her soul awoke in +full fury before the man had spoken a dozen words. + +She looked at Raymond with tired eyes, and he felt that, like himself, +she was older, wiser, different. He measured the extent of her +experiences and felt sorry for her. + +"Sabina," he said. "I must apologise for one mistake. When I asked you +to come back to me and live with me, I did a caddish thing. It wasn't +worthy of me, or you. I'm awfully sorry. I forgot myself there." + +She flushed. + +"Can that worry you?" she asked. "I should have thought, after what +you'd already done, such an added trifle wouldn't have made you think +twice. To ruin a woman body and soul--to lie to her and steal all she's +got to give under pretence of marriage--that wasn't caddish, I +suppose--that wasn't anything to make you less pleased with yourself. +That was what we may expect from men of honour and right bringing up?" + +"Don't take this line, or we shan't get on. If, after certain things +happened, I had still felt we--" + +"Stop," she said, "and hear me. You're making my blood burn and my +fingers itch to do something. My hands are strong and quick--they're +trained to be quick. I thought I could come to this meeting calm and +patient enough. I didn't know I'd got any hate left in me--for you, or +the world. But I have--you've mighty soon woke it again; and I'm not +going to hear you maul the past into your pattern and explain everything +away and tell me how you came gradually to see we shouldn't be happy +together and all the usual dirty, little lies. Tell yourself falsehoods +if you like--you needn't waste time telling them to me. I'll tell you +the truth; and that is that you're a low, mean coward and bully--a +creature to sicken the air for any honest man or woman. And you know it +behind your big talk. What did you do? You seduced me under promise of +marriage, and when your brother heard what you'd done and flung you out +of the Mill, you ran to your aunt. And she said, 'Choose between ruin +and no money, and Sabina and money from me.' And so you agreed to marry +me--to keep yourself in cash. And then, when all was changed and you +found yourself a rich man, you lied again and deserted me, and wronged +your child--ruined us both. That's what you did, and what you are." + +"If you really believe that's the one and only version, I'm afraid we +shan't come to an understanding," he said quietly. "You mustn't think so +badly of me as that, Sabina." + +"Your aunt does. That's how she sees it, being an honest woman." + +"I must try to show you you're wrong--in time. For the moment I'm only +concerned to do everything in my power to make your future secure and +calm your mind." + +"Are you? Then marry me. That's the only way you can make my future +secure, and you well know it." + +"I can't marry you. I shall never marry. I am very firmly convinced +that to marry a woman is to do her a great injury nine times out of +ten." + +"Worse than seducing her and leaving her alone in the world with a +bastard child, I suppose?" + +"You're not alone in the world, and your child is my child, and I +recognise the fullest obligations to you both." + +"Liar! If you'd recognised your obligations, you wouldn't have let it +come into the world nameless and fatherless." + +She rose. + +"You want everything your own way, and you think you can bend everything +to your own way. But you'll not bend me no more. You've broke me, and +you've broke your child. We're rubbish--rubbish on the world's rubbish +heap--flung there by you. I, that was so proud of myself! We'll go to +the grave shamed and outcast--failures for people to laugh at or preach +over. Your child's doomed now. The State and the Church both turn their +backs on such as him. You can't make him your lawful son now." + +"I can do for him all any father can do for a son." + +"You shall do nought for him! He's part of me--not you. If you hold back +from me, you hold back from him. God's my judge he shan't receive a +crust from your hands. You've given him enough. He's got you to thank +for a ruined life. He shan't have anything more from you while I can +stand between. Don't you trouble for him. You go on from strength to +strength and the people will praise your hard work and your goodness to +the workers--such a pattern master as you'll be." + +"May time make you feel differently, Sabina," he answered. "I've +deserved this--all of it. I'm quite ready to grant I've done wrong. But +I'm not going to do more if I can help it. I want to be your friend in +the highest and worthiest sense possible. I want to atone to you for the +past, and I want to stand up for your child through thick and thin, and +bear the reproach that he must be to me as long as I live. I've weighed +all that. But power can challenge the indifference of the State and the +cowardice of the Church. The dirty laws will be blotted out by public +opinion some day. The child can grow up to be my son and heir, as he +will be my first care and thought. Everything that is mine can be his +and yours--" + +"That's all one now," she said. "He touches nothing of yours while I +touch nothing of yours. There's only one way to bring me and the child +into your life, Raymond Ironsyde, and that's by marrying me. Without +that we'll not acknowledge you. I'd rather go on the streets than do it. +I'd rather tie a brick round your child's neck and drown him like an +unwanted dog than let him have comfort from you. And God judge me if +I'll depart from that if I live to be a hundred." + +"You're being badly advised, Sabina. I never thought to hear you talk +like this. Perhaps it's the fact that I'm here myself annoys you. Will +you let my lawyer see you?" + +"Marry me--marry me--you that loved me. All less than that is insult." + +"We must leave it, then. Would you like me to see my child?" + +"See him! Why? You'll never see him if I can help it. You'd blast his +little, trusting eyes. But I won't drown him--you needn't fear that. +I'll fight for him, and find friends for him. There's a few clean people +left who won't make him suffer for your sins. He'll live to spit on your +grave yet." + +Then she left the room, and he got up and went from the house. + + + + +BOOK II + +ESTELLE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE FLYING YEARS + + +But little can even the most complete biography furnish of a man's days. +It is argued that essentials are all that matter, and that since one +year is often like another, and life merely a matter of occasional +mountain peaks in flat country, the outstanding events alone need be +chronicled with any excuse. But who knows the essential, since +biographists must perforce omit the spade work of life on character, the +gradual attrition or upbuilding of principles under experience, and the +strain and stress, that, sooner or later, bear fruit in action? Even +autobiography, as all other history, needs must be incomplete, since no +man himself exactly appreciated the vital experiences that made him what +he is, or turns him from what he was; while even if the secret belongs +to the protagonist, and intellect and understanding have enabled him to +grasp the reality of his progress, or retrogression, he will be jealous +to guard such truths and, for pride, or modesty, conceal the real +fountains of inspiration that were responsible for progress, or the +temptations to error that found his weakest spots, blocked his advance, +and rendered futile his highest hopes. The man who knows his inner +defeats will not declare them honestly, even if egotism induces an +autobiography; while the biographist, being ignorant of his hero's real, +psychological existence, secret life, and those thousand hidden +influences that have touched him and caused him to react, cannot, with +all the will in the world to be true, relate more than superficial +truths concerning him. + +Ten years may only be recorded as lengthening the lives of Raymond +Ironsyde, Sabina Dinnett and their son, together with those interested +in them. Time, the supreme solvent, flows over existence, submerging +here, lifting there, altering the relative attitudes of husband and +wife, parent and child, friend and enemy. For no human relation is +static. The ebb and flow forget not the closest or remotest connection +between members of the human family; not a friendship or interest stands +still, and not a love or a hate. Time operates upon every human emotion +as it operates upon physical life; and ten years left no single +situation at Bridetown or Bridport unchallenged. Death cut few knots; +since accident willed that one alone fell among those with whom we are +concerned. For the rest, years brought their palliatives and corrosives, +soothed here, fretted there; here buried old griefs and healed old +sores; here calloused troubles, so that they only throbbed +intermittently; here built up new enthusiasms, awakened new loves, +barbed new enmities. + +Things that looked impossible on the day that Ironsyde heard Sabina +scorn him, happened. Threats evaporated, danger signals disappeared; +but, in other cases, while the jagged edges and peaks of bitterness and +contempt were worn away by a decade of years, the solid rocks from which +they sprang persisted and the massive reasons for emotion were not +moved, albeit their sharpest expressions vanished. Some loves faded into +likings, and their raptures to a placid contentment, built as much on +the convenience of habit as the memories of a passionate past; other +affections, less fortunate, perished and left nothing but remains +unlovely. Hates also, with their sharpest bristles rubbed down, were +modified to bluntness, and left a mere lumpish aversion of mind. Some +dislikes altogether perished and gave place to indifference; some +persisted as the shadow of their former selves; some were kept alive by +absurd pride in those who pretended, for their credit's sake, a +steadfastness they were not really built to feel. + +Sabina, for example, was constitutionally unequal to any supreme and +all-controlling passion unless it had been love; yet still she preserved +that inimical attitude to Raymond Ironsyde she had promised to +entertain; though in reality the fire was gone and the ashes cold. She +knew it, but was willing to rekindle the flame if material offered, as +now it threatened to do. + +Ernest Churchouse had published his book upon 'The Bells of Dorset' and, +feeling that it represented his life work, declared himself content. He +had grown still less active, but found abundant interests in literature +and friendship. He undertook the instruction of Sabina's son and, from +time to time, reported upon the child. His first friend was now Estelle +Waldron, who, at this stage of her development, found the old and +childlike man chime with her hopes and aspirations. + +Estelle was passing through the phase not uncommon to one of her nature. +For a time her early womanhood found food in poetry, and her mind, +apparently fashioned to advance the world's welfare and add to human +happiness, reposed as it seemed on an interlude of reading and the +pursuit of beauty. She developed fast to a point--the point whereat she +had established a library and common room for the Mill hands; the point +at which the girls called her 'Our Lady,' and very honestly loved her +for herself as well as for the good she brought them. Now, however, her +activities were turned inward and she sought to atone for an education +incomplete. She had never gone to school, and her governesses, while +able and sufficient, could not do for her what only school life can do. +This experience, though held needless and doubtful in many opinions, +Estelle felt to miss and her conscience prompted her to go to London and +mix with other people, while her inclination tempted her to stop with +her father. She went to London for two years and worked upon a woman's +newspaper. Then she fell ill and came home and spent her time with +Arthur Waldron, with Raymond Ironsyde, and with Ernest Churchouse. A +girl friend or two from London also came to visit her. + +She recovered perfect health, and having contracted a great new worship +for poetry in her convalescence, retained it afterwards. Ernest was her +ally, for he loved poetry--an understanding denied to her other friends. +So Estelle passed through a period of dreaming, while her intellect grew +larger and her human sympathy no less. She had developed into a handsome +woman with regular features, a large and almost stately presence and a +direct, undraped manner not shadowed as yet by any ray of sex instinct. +Nature, with her many endowments, chose to withhold the feminine +challenge. She was as stark and pure as the moon. Young men, drawn by +her smile, fled from her self. Her father's friends regarded her much as +he did: with a sort of uneasy admiration. The people were fond of her, +and older women declared that she would never marry. + +Of such was Miss Jenny Ironsyde. "Estelle's children will be good +works," she told Raymond. For she and her nephew were friends again. The +steady tides of time had washed away her prophecy of eternal enmity, and +increasing infirmity made her seek companionship where she could find +it. Moreover, she remembered a word that she had spoken to Raymond in +the past, when she told him how a grudge entertained by one human being +against another poisons character and ruins the steadfast outlook upon +life. She escaped that danger. + +It is a quality of small minds rather than of great to remain unchanged. +They fossilise more quickly, are more concentrated, have a power to +freeze into a mould and preserve it against the teeth of time, or the +wit and wisdom of the world. The result is ugly or beautiful, according +to the emotion thus for ever embalmed. The loves of such people are +intuitive--shared with instinct and above, or below, reason; their hate +is similarly impenetrable--preserved in a vacuum. For only a vacuum can +hold the sweet for ever untainted, or the bitter for ever unalloyed. +Mary Dinnett belonged to this order. She was now dead, and concerning +the legacy of her unchanging attitude more will presently appear. + +As for Nelly Northover, she had long been the wife of Mr. Job Legg. That +pertinacious man achieved his end at last, and what his few enemies +declared was guile, and his many friends held to be tact, won Nelly to +him a year after her adventure with Mr. Gurd. None congratulated them +more heartily than the master of 'The Tiger.' Indeed, when 'The Seven +Stars' blazed out anew on an azure firmament--the least of many changes +that refreshed and invigorated that famous house--'The Tiger' also shone +forth in savage splendour and his black and orange stripes blazed again +from a mass of tropical vegetation. + +And beneath the inn signs prosperity continued to obtain. Mr. Gurd grew +less energetic than of yore, while Mrs. Legg put on much flesh and daily +perceived her wisdom in linking Job for ever to the enterprise for which +she lived. He became thinner, if anything, and Time toiled after him in +vain. Immense success rewarded his innovations, and the tea-gardens of +'The Seven Stars' had long become a feature of Bridport's social life. +People hinted that Mr. Legg was not the meek and mild spirit of ancient +opinion and that Nelly knew it; but this suggestion may be held no more +than the penalty of fame--an activity of the baser sort, who ever drop +vinegar of detraction into the oil of content. + +John Best still reigned at the Mill, though he had himself already +chosen the young man destined to wear his mantle in process of time. To +leave the works meant to leave his garden; and that he was unprepared to +do until failing energies made it necessary. A decade saw changes among +the workers, but not many. Sally Groves had retired to braid for the +firm at home, and old Mrs. Chick was also gone; but the other hands +remained and the staff had slightly increased. Nancy Buckler was chief +spinner now; Sarah Roberts still minded the spreader, and Nicholas +continued at the lathes. Benny Cogle had a new Otto gas engine to look +after, and Mercy Gale, now married to him, still worked in the warping +chamber. Levi Baggs would not retire, and since he hackled with his old +master, the untameable man, now more than sixty years old, still kept +his place, still flouted the accepted order, still read sinister motives +into every human activity. New machinery had increased the prosperity of +the enterprise, but to no considerable extent. Competition continued +keen as ever, and each year saw the workers winning slightly increased +power through the advance of labour interests. + +Raymond Ironsyde was satisfied and remained largely unchanged. He had +hardened in opinion and increased in knowledge. He lacked imagination +and, as of old, trusted to the machine; but he was rational and proved a +capable, second class man of sound judgment and trustworthy in all his +undertakings. Sport continued to be a living interest of his life, and +since he had no ties that involved an establishment, he gladly accepted +Arthur Waldron's offer of a permanent home. + +It came to him after he had travelled largely and been for three years +master of the works. Arthur was delighted when Raymond accepted his +suggestion and made his abode at North Hill. They hunted and shot +together; and Waldron, who now judged that the time for golf had come in +his case, devoted the moiety of his life to that pastime. + +Ironsyde worked hard and was held in respect. The circumstance of his +child had long been accepted and understood. He exhausted his energy and +patience in endeavours to maintain and advance the boy; and those +justified in so doing lost no opportunity to urge on Sabina Dinnett the +justice of his demand; but here nothing could change her. She refused to +recognise Raymond, or receive from him any assistance in the education +and nurture of his son. She had called him Abel, and as Abel Dinnett +the lad was known. He resembled her in that he was dark and of an +excitable and uneven temperament. He might be easily elated and as +easily cast down. Raymond, who kept a secret eye upon the child, trusted +that in a few years his turn would come, though at present denied. At +first he resented the resolution that shut him out of his son's life; +but the matter had long since sunk to unimportance and he believed that +when Abel came to years of understanding, he would recognise his own +interests and blame those responsible for ignoring them in his +childhood. Upon this opinion hinged the future of not a few persons. It +developed into a conviction permanently established at the back of his +mind; but since Sabina and others came between, he was content to let +them do so and relied upon his son's intelligence in time to come. For +years he did not again seek the child's acquaintance after a rebuff, and +made no attempt to interfere with the operations of Abel's grandmother +and mother--to keep them wholly apart. Thus, after all, the +gratification of their purpose was devoid of savour and Ironsyde's +indifferent acquiescence robbed their will of its triumph. He had told +Mary Dinnett, through Ernest Churchouse, that she and her daughter must +proceed as they thought fit and that, in any case, the last word would +be with him. Here, however, he misvalued the strength of the forces +arrayed against him, and only the future proved whether the seed sowed +in Abel Dinnett's youthful heart was fertile or barren--whether, by the +blood in his own veins, he would offer soil of character to develop +enmity to the man who got him, or reveal a nature slow to anger and +impatient of wrath. + +For Ernest Churchouse these problems offered occupation and he stood as +an intermediary between the interests that clashed in the child. He made +himself responsible for a measure of the boy's education and, sometimes, +reported to Estelle such development of character as he perceived. In +secret, inspired by the rival claims of heredity and environment, Ernest +strove to cast a scientific horoscope of little Abel's probable future. +But to-day contradicted yesterday, and to-morrow proved both +untrustworthy. The child was always changing, developing new ideas, +indicating new possibilities. It appeared too soon yet to say what he +would be, or predict his character and force of purpose. + +Thus he grew, and when he was eight years old, his first friend and +ally--his grandmother--died. Mr. Churchouse, who had long deplored her +influence for Abel's sake, was hopeful that this departure might prove a +blessing. + +Now Sabina had taken her mother's place and she looked after Ernest well +enough. He always hoped that she would marry, and she had been asked to +do so more than once, but felt tempted to no such step. + +Thus, then, things stood, and any change of focus and altered outlook in +these people, that may serve to suggest discontinuity with their past, +must be explained by the passage of ten years. Such a period had renewed +all physically--a fact full of subtle connotations. It had sharpened the +youthful and matured the adult mind; it had dimmed the senses sinking +upon nature's night time and strengthened the dawning will and opening +intellect. For as a ship furls her spread of sail on entering harbour, +so age reduces the scope of the mind and its energies to catch every +fresh ripple of the breeze that blows out of progress and change. The +centre of the stage, too, gradually reveals new performers; the gaze of +manhood is turned on new figures; the limelight of human interest throws +up the coming forces of activity and intellect; while those who +yesterday shone supreme, slowly pass into the penumbra that heralds +eclipse. And who bulk big enough to arrest the eternal march, delay +their own progress from light to darkness, or stay the eager young feet +tramping outward of the dayspring to take their places in the day? Life +moves so fast that many a man lives to see the dust thick on his own +name in the scroll of merit and taste a regret that only reason can +allay. + +Fate had denied Sabina Dinnett her brief apotheosis. From dark to dark +she had gone; yet time had purged her mind of any large bitterness. She +looked on and watched Raymond's sojourn in the light from a standpoint +negative and indifferent. The future for her held interest, for she +could not cease to be interested in him, though she knew that he had +long since ceased to be interested in her. From the cool cloisters of +her obscurity she watched and was only strong in opinion at one point. +She dreamed of her son making his way and succeeding in the world; she +welcomed Mr. Churchouse's assurance as to the lad's mental progress and +promise; but she was determined as ever that not, if she could help it, +should Abel enter terms of friendship with his father. + +Thus the relations subsisted, while, strange to record, in practice they +had long been accepted as part of the order of things at Bridetown. They +ceased even to form matter for gossip. For Raymond Ironsyde was greater +here than the lord of the manor, or any other force. The Mill continued +to be the heart of the village. Through the Mill the lifeblood +circulated; by the Mill the prosperity of the people was regulated; and +since the master saw that on his own prosperity reposed the prosperity +of those whom he employed, there was none to decry him, or echo a +disordered past in the ear of the well-ordered present. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SEA GARDEN + + +Bride river still flowed her old way to her work and came, by goldilocks +and grasses, by reedmace and angelica, to the mill-race and water-wheel. +But now, where the old wheel thundered, there yawned a gap, for the +river's power was about to be conserved to better purpose than of old, +and as the new machines now demanded greater forces to drive them, so +human skill found a way to increase the applied strength of a streamlet. +Against the outer wall of the Mill now hung a turbine and Raymond, +Estelle and others had assembled to see it in operation for the first +time. Bride was bottled here, and instead of flashing and foaming over +the water wheel as of yore, now vanished into the turbine and presently +appeared again below it. + +Raymond explained the machine with gusto, and Estelle mourned the wheel, +yet as one who knew its departure was inevitable. + +It was summer time, and after John Best had displayed the significance +of the turbine and the increased powers generated thereby, Raymond +strolled down the valley beside the river at Estelle's invitation. + +She had something to show him at the mouth of the stream--a sea garden, +now in all its beauty and precious to her. For though her mind had +winged far beyond the joys of childhood and was occupied with greater +matters than field botany, still she loved the wild flowers and welcomed +them again in their seasons. + +Their speech drifted to the people, and he told how some welcomed the +new appliance and some doubted. Then Raymond spoke of Sabina Dinnett in +sympathetic ears. + +For now Estelle understood the past; but she had never wavered in her +friendship with Sabina, any more than had diminished her sister-like +attachment to Raymond. Now, as often, he regretted the attitude his +child preserved towards him and expressed sorrow that he could not break +down Abel's distrust. + +"More than distrust, in fact, for the kid dislikes me," he said. "You +know he does, Chicky. But I never can understand why, because he's +always with his mother and Uncle Ernest, and Sabina doesn't bear me any +malice now, to my knowledge. Surely the child must come round sooner or +later?" + +"When he's old enough to understand, I expect he will," she said. "But +you'll have to be patient, Ray." + +"Oh, yes--that's my strong suit nowadays." + +"He's a clever little chap, so Sabina says; but he's difficult and +wayward. He won't be friends with me." + +Raymond changed the subject and praised the valley as it opened to the +sea. + +"What a jolly place! I believe there are scores of delightful spots at +Bridetown within a walk, and I'm always too busy to see them." + +"That's certain. I could show you scores." + +"I ought to know the place I live in, better. I don't even know the soil +I walk on--awful ignorance." + +"The soil is oolite and clay, and the subsoil, which you see in the +cliffs, is yellow sandstone--the loveliest, goldenest soil in the +world," declared Estelle. + +"The colour of a bath sponge," he said, and she pretended despair. + +"Oh dear! And I really thought I had seen the dawning of poetry in you, +Ray." + +"Merely reflected from yourself, Chicky. Still I'm improving. The +turbine has a poetic side, don't you think?" + +"I suppose it has. Science is poetic--at any rate, the history of +science is full of poetry--if you know what poetry means." + +"I wish I had more time for such things," he said. "Perhaps I shall +have some day. To be in trade is rather deadening though. There seems so +little to show for all my activities--only hundreds of thousands of +miles of string. In weak moments I sometimes ask myself if, after all, +it is good enough." + +"They must be very weak moments, indeed," said Estelle. "Perhaps you'll +tell me how the world could get on without string?" + +"I don't know. But you, with all your love of beautiful things, ought to +understand me instead of jumping on me. What is beauty? No two people +feel the same about it, surely? You'd say a poem was beautiful; I'd say +a square cut for four, just out of reach of cover point, was beautiful. +Your father would say, a book on shooting high pheasants was beautiful, +if he agreed with it; John Best would say a good sample of shop twine +was beautiful." + +"We should all be right, beauty is in all those things. I can see that. +I can even see that shooting birds with great skill, as father does, is +beautiful--not the slaughter of the bird, which can't be beautiful, but +the way it's done. But those are small things. With the workers you want +to begin at the beginning and show them--what Mister Best knows--that +the beauty of the thing they make depends on it being well and truly +made." + +"They're restless." + +"Yes; they're reaching out for more happiness, like everybody else." + +"I wouldn't back the next generation of capitalists to hold the fort +against labour." + +"Perhaps the next generation won't want to," she said. "Perhaps by that +time we shall be educated up to the idea that rich people are quite as +anti-social as poor people. Then we shall do away with both poverty and +riches. To us, educated on the old values, it would come as a shock, but +the generation that is born into such a world would accept it as a +matter of course and not grumble." + +He laughed. + +"Don't believe it, Chicky. Every generation has its own hawks and eagles +as well as its sheep. The strong will always want the fulness of the +earth and always try to inspire the weak to help them get it. With great +leadership you must have equivalent rewards." + +"Why? Cannot you imagine men big enough to work for humanity without +reward? Have there not been plenty of such men--before Christ, as well +as since?" + +"Power is reward," he answered. "No man is so great that he is +indifferent to power, for his greatness depends upon it; and if power +was dissipated to-morrow and diluted until none could call himself a +leader, we should have a reaction at once and the sheep would grow +frightened and bleat for a shepherd. And the shepherd would very soon +appear." + +They stood where the cliffs broke and Bride ended her journey at the +sea. She came gently without any splendid nuptials to the lover of +rivers. Her brief course run, her last silver loop wound through the +meadows, she ended in a placid pool amid the sand ridges above +high-water mark. The yellow cliffs climbed up again on either side, and +near the chalice in the grey beach whence, invisible, the river sank +away to win the sea by stealth, spread Estelle's sea garden--an expanse +of stone and sand enriched by many flowers that seemed to crown the +river pool with a garland, or weave a wreath for Bride's grave in the +sand. Here were pale gold of poppies, red gold of lotus and rich lichens +that made the sea-worn pebbles shine. Sea thistle spread glaucous +foliage and lifted its blue blossoms; stone-crops and thrifts, tiny +trefoils and couch grasses were woven into the sand, and pink +storks-bill and silvery convolvulus brought cool colour to this harmony +spread beside the purple sea. The day was one of shadow and sunshine +mingled, and from time to time, through passages of grey that lowered +the glory of Estelle's sea garden, a sunburst came to set all +glittering once more, to flash upon the river, lighten the masses of +distant elm, and throw up the red roofs and grey church tower of +Bridetown and her encircling hills. + +"What a jolly place it is," he said taking out his cigar case. + +Then they sat in the shadow of a fishing boat, drawn up here, and +Raymond lamented the unlovely end of the river. + +While he did so, the girl regarded him with affection and a secret +interest and entertainment. For it amused her often to hear him echo +thoughts that had come to her in the past. In a lesser degree her father +did the like; but he belonged to a still older generation, and it was +with Raymond that she found herself chiefly concerned, when he +announced, as original, ideas and discoveries that reflected her own +dreams in the past. Sometimes she thought he was catching up; sometimes, +again, she distanced him and felt herself grown up and Raymond still a +boy. Then, sometimes, he would flush a covey of ideas outside her +reflections, and so remind her of the things that interested men, in +which, as yet, women took no interest. When he spoke of such things, she +strove to learn all that he could teach concerning them. But soon she +found that was not much. He did not think deeply and she quickly caught +him up, if she desired to do so. + +Now he uttered just the same, trivial lament that she had uttered when +she was a child. She was pleased, for she rather loved to feel herself +older in mind than Raymond. It added a lustre to friendship and made her +happy--why, she knew not. + +"What a wretched end--to be choked up in the shingle like that," he +said, "instead of dashing out gloriously and losing yourself in the +sea!" + +She smiled gently to herself. + +"I thought that once, then I was ever so sorry for poor little Bride." + +"A bride without a wedding," he said. + +"No. She steals to him; she wins his salt kisses and finds them sweet +enough. They mate down deep out of sight of all eyes. So you needn't be +sorry for her really." + +"It's like watching people try ever so hard to do something and never +bring it off." + +"Yes--even more like than you think, Ray; because we feel sad at such +apparent failures, and yet what we are looking at may be a victory +really, only our dull eyes miss it." + +"I daresay many people are succeeding who don't appear to be," he +admitted. + +"Goodness can't be wasted. It may be poured into the sand all unseen and +unsung; but it conquers somehow and does something worth doing, even +though no eye can see what. Plenty of good things happen in the +world--good and helpful things--that are never recorded, or even +recognised." + +"Like a stonewaller in a cricket match. The people cuss him, but he may +determine who is going to win." + +She laughed at the simile. + +They went homeward presently, Estelle quietly content to have shown +Raymond the flower-sprinkled strand, and he well pleased to have +pleasured her. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A TWIST FRAME + + +Raymond Ironsyde grumbled sometimes at the Factory Act and protested +against grandmotherly legislation. Yet in some directions he anticipated +it. He went, for example, beyond the Flax Mill Ventilation Regulations. +He loved fresh air himself, and took vast pains to make his works sweet +and wholesome for those who breathed therein. Even Levi Baggs could not +grumble, for the exhaust draught in his hackling shop was stronger than +the law demanded, and the new cyclone separators in the main buildings +served to keep the air far purer than of old. + +Ironsyde had established also the Kestner System of atomising water, to +regulate temperature and counteract the electrical effects of east wind, +or frost, on the light slivers. He was always on the lookout for new +automatic means to regulate the drags on the bobbins. He had installed +an automatic doffing apparatus, and made a departure from the usual dry +spinning in a demi-sec, or half-dry, spinning frame, which was new at +that time, and had offered excellent results and spun a beautifully +smooth yarn. + +These things all served to assist and relieve the workers in varying +degree, but, as Raymond often pointed out, they were taken for granted +and, sometimes, in his gloomier moments, he accused his people of +lacking gratitude. They, for their part, were being gradually caught up +in the growing movements of labour. The unintelligent forgot to credit +the master with his consideration; while those who could think, were +often soured by suspicion. These ignorant spirits doubted not that he +was seeking to win their friendship against the rainy days in store for +capital. + +Ironsyde came to the works one morning to watch a new Twist Frame and a +new operator. The single strand yarn for material from the spinners was +coming to the Twist Frame to be turned into twines and fishing lines. +Four full bobbins from the spinning machine went to each spindle of the +Twist Frame, and from it emerged a strong 'four-ply.' It was a machine +more complicated than the spinner; and, as only a good billiard player +can appreciate the cleverness of a great player, so only a spinner might +have admired the rare technical skill of the woman who controlled the +Twist Frame. + +The soul of the works persisted, though the people and the machines were +changed. The old photographs and old verses had gone, but new pictures +and poems took their places in the workers' corners; and new +fashion-plates hung where the old ones used to hang. The drawers, and +the rovers, the spreaders and the spinners still, like bower-birds, +adorned the scenes of their toil. A valentine or two and the portrait of +a gamekeeper and his dog hung beside the carding machine; for Sally +Groves had retired and a younger woman was in her place. She, too, fed +the Card by hand, but not so perfectly as Sally was wont to do. + +Estelle had come to see the Twist Frame. She cared much for the Mill +women and spent a good portion of her hours with them. A very genuine +friendship, little tainted with time-serving, or self-interest, obtained +for her in the works. On her side, she valued the goodwill of the +workers as her best possession, and found among them a field for study +in human nature and, in their work, matter for poetry and art. For were +not all three Fates to be seen at their eternal business here? Clotho +attended the Spread Board; the can-minders coiling away the sliver, +stood for Lachesis; while in the spinners, who cut the thread when the +bobbin was full, Estelle found Atropos, the goddess of the shears. + +Mr. Best, grown grizzled, but active still and with no immediate +thoughts of retirement, observed the operations of the new spinner at +the Twist Frame. She was a woman from Bridport, lured to Bridetown by +increase of wages. + +John, who was a man of enthusiasms, turned to Estelle. + +"The best spinner that ever came to Bridetown," he whispered. + +"Better than Sabina Dinnett?" she asked; and Best declared that she was. +So passage of time soon deadens the outline of all achievement, and +living events that happen under our eyes, offer a statement of the quick +and real with which beautiful dead things, embalmed in the amber of +memory, cannot cope. + +"Sabina, at her best, never touched her, Miss Waldron." + +"Sabina braids still in her spare time. Nobody makes better nets." + +"This is a cousin of Sarah Roberts," explained the foreman. "Spinning +runs in the Northover family, and though Sarah is a spreader and never +will be anything else, there have been wondrous good spinners in the +clan. This girl is called Milly Morton, and her mother and grandmother +spun before her. Her father was Jack Morton, one of the last of the old +hand spinners. To see him walking backwards from his wheel, and paying +out fibre from his waist with one hand and holding up the yarn with the +other, was a very good sight. He'd spin very nearly a hundred pounds of +hemp in a ten hours' day, and turn out seven or eight miles of yarn, and +walk every yard of it, of course. The rope makers swore by him." + +"I'm sure spinning runs in the blood!" agreed Estelle. "Both Sarah's +little girls are longing for the time when they can come into the Mill +and mind cans; and, of course, the boy wants to do his father's work and +be a lathe hand." + +Best nodded. + +"You've hit it," he declared. "It runs in the blood in a very strange +fashion. Take Sabina's child. By all accounts, his old grandmother did +everything in her power to poison his mind against the Mill as well as +the master. She was a lot bitterer than Sabina herself, as the years +went on; and if you could look back and uncover the past, you'd find it +was her secret work to make that child what he is. But the Mill draws +him like cheese draws a mouse. I'll find him here a dozen times in a +month--just popping in when my back's turned. Why he comes I couldn't +say; but I think it is because his mother was a spinner and the feeling +for the craft is in him." + +"His father is a spinner, too, for that matter," suggested Estelle. + +"In the larger sense of ownership, yes; but it isn't that that draws +him. His father's got no great part in him by all accounts. It's the +mother in him that brings him here. Not that she knows he comes so +often, and I dare say she'd be a good deal put about if she did." + +"Why shouldn't he come, John?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"I see no reason against. One gets so used to the situation that its +strangeness passes off, but it's very awkward, so to say, that nothing +can be done for Abel by his father. Sabina's wrong to hold out there, +and so I've told her." + +"She doesn't influence Abel one way or the other. The child seems to +hate Mister Ironsyde." + +"Well, he loves the Mill, though you'd think he might hate that for his +father's sake." + +"He's hard for a little creature of ten years old," said Estelle. "He +won't make friends with me, but holds off and regards me--just as +rabbits and things regard one, before they finally run away. I pretend I +don't notice it. He'll listen and even talk if I meet him with his +mother; but if I meet him alone, he flies. He generally bolts through a +hole in the hedge, or somewhere." + +"He links you up with Mister Raymond," explained Mr. Best. "He knows you +live at North Hill House, and so he's suspicious. You can disarm him, +however, for he's got reasoning parts quite up to the average if not +above. He's the sort of boy that if you don't want him to steal your +apples, you've only got to give him a few now and then; and then he +rises to the situation and feels in honour bound to be straight, because +you've lifted him to be your equal." + +"I call that a very good character." + +"It might be a lot worse, no doubt." + +"I wanted him to come to our outing, but he won't do that, though his +mother asked him to go." + +The outing, an annual whole holiday, was won for the Mill by Estelle, +and for the past four years she had taken all who cared to come for a +long day by the sea. They always went to Weymouth, where amusement +offered to suit every taste. + +"More than ever are coming this year," John told her. "In fact, I +believe pretty well everybody's going but Levi Baggs." + +"I'm glad. We'll have the two wagonettes from 'The Seven Stars' as +usual. If you are going into Bridport you might tell Missis Legg." + +"The two big ones we shall want, and they must be here sharp at six +o'clock," declared Mr. Best. "There's nothing like getting off early. +I'll speak to Job Legg about it and tell him to start 'em off earlier. +You can trust it to Job as to the wagonettes being opened or covered. +He's a very weather-wise person and always smells rain twelve hours in +advance." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE RED HAND + + +The Mill had a fascination for all Bridetown children and they would +trespass boldly and brave all perils to get a glimpse of the machinery. +The thunder of the engines drew them, and there were all manner of +interesting fragments to be picked up round and about. That they were +not permitted within the radius of the works was also a sound reason for +being there, and many boys could tell of great adventures and +hairbreadth escapes from Mr. Best, Mr. Benny Cogle and, above all, Mr. +Baggs. For Mr. Baggs, to the mind of youth, exhibited ogre-like +qualities. They knew him as a deadly enemy, for which reason there was +no part of the works that possessed a greater or more horrid fascination +than the hackling shop. To have entered the den of Mr. Baggs marked a +Bridetown lad as worthy of highest respect in his circle. But proofs +were always demanded of such a high achievement. When Levi caught the +adventurer, as sometimes happened, proofs were invariably apparent and a +posterior evidence never lacked of a reverse for the offensive; but +youth will be served, even though age sometimes serves it rather +harshly, and the boys were untiring. Unless Levi locked the shop, when +he went home at noon to dinner, there was always the chance of a raid +with a strick or two possibly missing as proof of success. + +Sabina had told Abel that he must keep away from the works, but he +ignored her direction and often revolved about them at moments of +liberty. He was a past master in the art of scouting and evading danger, +yet loved danger, and the Mill offered him daily possibilities of both +courting and escaping peril. Together with other little boys nourished +on a penny journal, Abel had joined the 'Band of the Red Hand.' They did +no harm, but hoped some day, when they grew older, to make a more' +painful impression on Bridetown. At present their modest ambition was to +leave the mark of their secret society in every unexpected spot +possible. On private walls, in church and chapel, or the house-places of +the farms, it was their joy to write with chalk, 'The Red Hand has been +here.' Then followed a circle and a cross--the dark symbol of the +brotherhood. Once a former chief of the gang had left his mark in the +hackling shop and more than one member had similarly adorned the +interior of the Mill; but the old chief had gone to sea at the age of +thirteen, and, though younger than some of the present members, Abel was +now appointed leader and always felt the demand to attempt things that +should be worthy of so high a state. + +They were not the everyday boys who thus combined, but a sort of child +less common, yet not uncommon. Such lads scent one another out by parity +of taste and care less for gregarious games than isolated or lonely +adventures. They would rather go trespassing than play cricket; they +would organise a secret raid before a public pastime. Intuitively they +desire romance, and feeling that law and order is opposed to romance, +find the need to flout law and order in measure of their strength, and, +of course, applaud the successful companion who does so with most +complete results. + +Now 'the old Adam'--a comprehensive term for independence of view and +unpreparedness to accept the tried values of pastors and masters--was +strong in Abel Dinnett. He loved life, but hated discipline, and for him +the Mill possessed far more significance than it could offer to any +lesser member of the band, since his father owned it. For that much Abel +apprehended, though the meaning of paternity was as yet hidden from him. + +That Raymond Ironsyde was his father he understood, and that he must +hate him heartily he also understood: his dead grandmother had poured +this precept into his young mind at its most receptive period. For the +present he was still too youthful to rise beyond this general principle, +and he was far too busy with his own adventures to find leisure to hate +any one more than fitfully. He told the Red Handers that some day he +designed a terrific attack on Raymond Ironsyde; and they promised to +assist and support him; but they all recognised their greater +manifestations must be left until they attained more weight in the +cosmic and social schemes, and, for the moment, their endeavour rose +little higher than to set their fatal sign where least it might be +expected. + +To this end came dark-eyed Abel to the Mill at an hour when he should +have been at his dinner. Ere long his activities might be curtailed, for +he was threatened with a preparatory school in the autumn; but before +that happened, the Red Hand must be set in certain high places, and the +hackling shop of Levi Baggs was first among them. + +Abel wore knickerbockers and his feet and legs were bare, for he had +just waded across the river beyond the Mill, and meant to retreat by the +same road. He had hidden in a may bush till the people were all gone to +their meal, and then crossed the stream into the works. That the door of +the hackler's would be open he did not expect, for Levi locked it when +he went home; but there was a little window, and Abel, who had a theory +that where his head could go, his body could follow, believed that by +the window it would be possible to make his entrance. The contrary of +what he expected happened, however, for the window was shut and the door +on the latch. Fate willed that on the very day of Abel's attack, Mr. +Baggs should be spending the dinner-hour in his shop. His sister, who +looked after him, was from home until the evening, and Levi had brought +his dinner to the works. He was eating it when the boy very cautiously +opened the door, and since Mr. Baggs sat exactly behind the door, this +action served to conceal him. The intruder therefore thought the place +empty, and proceeded with his operations while Levi made no sound, but +watched him. + +Taking a piece of chalk from his pocket Abel wrote the words of terror, +'The Red Hand has been here,' and set down the circle and cross. Then he +picked up one of the bright stricks, that lay beside the hackling board, +and was just about to depart in triumph, when Mr. Baggs banged the door +and revealed himself. + +Thus discomfited, Abel grew pale and then flushed. Mr. Baggs was a very +big and strong man and the culprit knew that he must now prepare for the +pangs that attended failure. But he bore pain well. He had been operated +upon for faulty tendons when he was five and proved a Spartan patient. +He stood now waiting for Mr. Baggs. Other victims had reported that it +was Levi's custom to use a strap from his own waist when he beat a boy, +and Abel, even at this tense moment, wondered whether he would now do +so. + +"It's you, is it?" said Mr. Baggs. "And the Red Hand has been here, has +it? And perhaps the red something else will go away from here. You're a +darned young thief--that's what you are." + +"I ain't yet," argued Abel. His voice fluttered, for his heart was +beating very fast. + +"You're as good, however, for you was going to take my strick. The will +was there, though I prevented the deed." + +"I had to show the Band as I'd been here." + +"Why did you come? What sense is there to it?" + +Abel regarded Mr. Baggs doubtfully and did not reply. + +"Just to show you're a bit out of the common, perhaps?" + +Abel clutched at the suggestion. His eyes looked sideways slyly at Mr. +Baggs. The ogre seemed inclined to talk, and through speech might come +salvation, for he had acted rather than talked on previous occasions. + +"We want to be different from common boys," said the marauder. + +"Well, you are, for one, and there's no need to trouble in your case. +You was born different, and different you've got to be. I suppose you've +been told often enough who your father is?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"Small wonder then that you've got your knife into the world at large, I +reckon. What thinking man, or boy, has not for that matter? So you're up +against the laws and out for the liberties? Well, I don't quarrel with +that. Only you're too young yet to understand what a lot you've got to +grumble at. Some day you will." + +Abel said nothing. He hardly listened, and thought far less of what Mr. +Baggs was saying than of what he himself would say to his companions +after this great adventure. To make friends with the ogre was no mean +feat, even for a member of the Red Hand. + +What motiveless malignity actuated Levi Baggs meanwhile, who can say? He +was now a man in sight of seventy, yet his crabbed soul would exude gall +under pressure as of yore. None was ever cheered or heartened by +anything he might say; but to cast a neighbour down, or make a confident +and contented man doubtful and discontented, affected Mr. Baggs +favourably and rendered him as cheerful as his chronic pessimism ever +permitted him to be. + +He bade the child sit and gave him his portion of currant dumpling. + +"Put that down your neck," he said, "and don't you think so bad of me in +future. I treat other people same as they treat me, and that's a rule +that works out pretty fair in practice, if you've got the power to +follow it. But some folks are too weak to treat other people as they are +treated--you, for example. You're one of the unlucky ones, you are, Abel +Dinnett." + +Abel enjoyed the pudding; and still his mind dwelt more on future +narration of this great incident than on the incident itself. With +unconscious art, he felt that the moment when this tale was told, would +be far greater for him than the moment when it happened. + +"I ain't unlucky, Mister Baggs. I would have been unlucky if you'd beat +me; but you've give me your pudding, and I'm on your side till death +now." + +"Well, that's something. I ain't got many my side, I believe. The +fearless thinker never has. You can come and see me when you mind to, +because I'm sorry for you, owing to your bad fortune. You've been +handicapped out of winning the race, Abel. You know what a handicap is +in a race? Well, you won't have no chance of winning now, because your +father won't own you." + +"I won't own him," said the boy. "Granny always told me he was my +bitterest enemy, and she knew, and I won't trust him--never." + +"I should think not--nor any other wise chap wouldn't trust him. He's a +bad lot. He only believes in machines, not humans." + +The boy began to be receptive. + +"He wants to be friends, but I won't be his friend, because I hate him. +Only I don't tell mother, because she don't hate him so much as me." + +"More fool her, then. She ought to hate him. She's got first cause. Do +you know who ought to own these works when your father dies?" + +"No, Mister Baggs." + +"You. Yes, they did ought to belong to you in justice, because you are +his eldest son. Everything ought to be yours, if the world were run by +right and fairness and honour. But it's all took from you and you can't +lift a finger to better yourself, because you're only his natural son, +and Nature may go to hell every time for all the Law and the Church +care. Church and Law both hate Nature. So that's why I say you're an +unlucky boy; and that's why I say that, despite your father's money and +fame and being popular and well thought on and all that, he's a cruel +rogue." + +Abel was puzzled but interested. + +"If I'm his boy, why ain't my mother his wife, like all the other chaps' +fathers have got wives?" + +"Why ain't your mother his wife? Yes, why? After ten years he'll find +that question as hard to answer as it was before you were born, I +reckon. And the answer to the question is the same as the answer to many +questions about Raymond Ironsyde. And that is, that he is a crooked man +who pretends to be a straight one; in a word, a hypocrite. And you'll +grow up to understand these things and see what should be yours taken +from you and given to other people." + +"When I grow up, I'll have it out with him," said Abel. + +"No, you won't. Because he's strong and you're weak. You're weak and +poor and nobody, with no father to fight for you and give you a show in +the world. And you'll always be the same, so you'll never stand any +chance against him." + +The boy flushed and showed anger. + +"I won't be weak and poor always." + +"Against him you will. Suppose you went so far as to let him befriend +you, could he ever make up for not marrying your mother? Can he ever +make you anything but a bastard and an outcast? No, he can't; and he +only wants to educate you and give you a bit of money and decent clothes +for the sake of his own conscience. He'll come to you hat in hand some +day--not because he cares a damn for you, but that he may stand well in +the eyes of the world." + +Abel now panted with anger, and Mr. Baggs was mildly amused to see how +easily the child could be played upon. + +"I'll grow up and then--" + +"Don't you worry. You must take life as you find it, and as you haven't +found it a very kind thing, you must put up with it. Most people draw +blanks, and that's why it's better to stop out of the world than in it. +And if we could see into the bottom of every heart, we should very +likely find that all draw blanks, and even what looks like prizes are +not." + +Levi laughed after this sweeping announcement. It appeared to put him in +a good temper. He even relaxed in the gravity of his prophecies. + +"However, life is on the side of youth," he said, "and you may come to +the front some day, if you've got enough brains. Brains is the only +thing that'll save you. Your mother's clever and your father's crafty, +so perhaps you'll go one better than either. Perhaps, some day, if you +wait long enough, you'll get back on your father, after all." + +"I will wait long enough," declared Abel. "I don't care how long I +wait, but I'll best him, Mister Baggs." + +"You keep in that righteous spirit and you'll breed a bit of trouble for +him some day, I daresay. And now be off, and if you want to come and see +me at work and learn about hackling and the business that ought to be +yours but won't be, then you can drop in again when you mind to." + +"Thank you, sir," said Abel. "I will come, and if I say you let me, +nobody can stop me." + +"That's right. I like brave boys that ain't frightened of their +betters--so called." + +Then Abel went off, crossed Bride among the sedges and put on his shoes +and stockings again. He had a great deal to think about, and this brief +conversation played its part in his growing brain to alter old opinions +and waken new ideas. That he had successfully stormed the hackling shop +and found the ogre friendly was, of course, good; but already, and long +before he could retail the incident, it began to lose its rare savour. +He perceived this himself dimly, and it made him uncomfortable and +troubled. Something had happened to him; he knew not what, but it +dwarfed the operations of the Red Hand, and it even made his personal +triumph look smaller than it appeared a little while before. + +Abel stared at the Mill while he pulled on his stockings and listened to +the bell calling the people back to work. + +By right, then, all these wonders should be his some day; but his father +would never give them to him now. He vaguely remembered that his +grandmother had said something like this; but it remained for Mr. Baggs +to rekindle the impression until Abel became oppressed with its +greatness. + +He considered the problem gloomily for a long time and decided to talk +to his mother about it. But he did not. It was characteristic of him +that he seldom went to Sabina for any light on his difficulties. Indeed +he attached more importance to Mr. Churchouse's opinions than his +mother's. He determined to see Levi Baggs again and, meantime, he let a +sense of wrong sink into him. Here the Band of the Red Hand offered +comfort. It seemed proper to his dawning intelligence that one who had +been so badly treated as he, should become the head of the Red Hand. +Yet, as the possible development of the movement occurred to Abel, the +child began to share the uneasiness of all conspiracy and feel a +weakness inherent in the Band. Seen from that modest standard of +evil-doing which belonged to Tommy and Billy Keep, Amos Whittle and +Jacky Gale, the Red Handers appeared a futile organisation even in +Abel's eyes. He felt, as greater than he have felt, that an ideal +society should embrace one member only: himself. There were far too many +brothers of the Red Hand, and before he reached home he even +contemplated resignation. He liked better the thought of playing his own +hand, and keeping both its colour and its purpose secret from everybody +else in the world. His head was, for the moment, full of unsocial +thoughts; but whether the impressions created by Mr. Baggs were likely +to persist in a mind so young, looked doubtful. + +He told his mother nothing, as usual. Indeed, had she guessed half that +went on in Abel's brains, she might have sooner undertaken what +presently was indicated, and removed herself and her son to a district +far beyond their native village. + +But the necessity did not exist in her thoughts, and when she recognised +it, since the inspiration came from without, she was moved to resent +rather than accept it. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN ACCIDENT + + +There was a cricket luncheon at 'The Tiger' when Bridport played its +last match for the season against Axminster. The western township had +won the first encounter, and Bridport much desired to cry quits over the +second. + +Raymond played on this occasion, and though he failed, the credit of +Bridetown was worthily upheld by Nicholas Roberts, the lathe-worker. He +did not bowl as fast as of yore, but he bowled better, and since +Axminster was out for one hundred and thirty in their first innings, +while Bridport had made seventy for two wickets before luncheon, the +issue promised well. + +Job Legg still helped Richard Gurd at great moments as he was wont to +do, for prosperity had not modified Job's activity, or diminished his +native goodwill. Gurd carved, while Job looked after the bottles. Arthur +Waldron, who umpired for Bridport, sat beside Raymond at lunch and +condoled with him, because the younger, who had gone in second wicket +down, had played himself in very carefully before the interval. + +"Now you'll have to begin all over again," said Waldron. "I always say +luncheon may be worth anything to the bowlers. It rests them, but it +puts the batsman's eye out." + +"Seeing how short of practice you are this year, you were jolly steady, +Ray," declared Neddy Motyer, who sat on the other side of Ironsyde. "You +stopped some very hot ones." + +Neddy preserved his old interest in sport, but was now a responsible +member of society. He had married and joined his father, a +harness-maker, in a prosperous business. + +"I can't time 'em, like I could. That fast chap will get me, I expect." + +And Raymond proved a true prophet. Indeed far worse happened than he +anticipated. + +Estelle came to watch the cricket after luncheon. She had driven into +Bridport with her father and Raymond in the morning and gone on to Jenny +Ironsyde for the midday meal. Now she arrived in time to witness a +catastrophe. A very fast bowler went on immediately after lunch. He was +a tall and powerful youth with a sinister reputation for bowling at the +man rather than the wicket. At any rate he pitched them short and with +his lofty delivery bumped them very steeply on a lively pitch. Now, in +his second over, he sent down a short one at tremendous speed, and the +batsman, failing to get out of the way, was hit on the point of the jaw. +He fell as though shot and proved to be quite unconscious when picked +up. + +They carried him to the pavilion, and it was not until twenty minutes +had passed that Raymond came round and the game went on. But Ironsyde +could take no further part. There was concussion of doubtful severity +and he found himself half blind and suffering great pain in the neck and +head. + +Estelle came to him and advised that he should go to his aunt's house, +which was close at hand. He could not speak, but signified agreement, +and they took him there in an ambulance, while the girl ran on to advise +his aunt of the accident. + +A doctor came with him and helped to get him to bed. His mind seemed +affected and he wandered in his speech. But he recognised Estelle and +begged her not to leave him. She sat near him, therefore, in a darkened +room and Miss Ironsyde also came. + +Waldron dropped in before dusk with the news that Bridport had won, by a +smaller margin than promised, on the first innings. But he found +Raymond sleeping and did not waken him. Estelle believed the injured man +would want her when he woke again. The doctor could say nothing till +some hours had passed, so she went home, but returned a few hours later +to stop the night and help, if need be, to nurse the patient. A +professional nurse shared the vigil; but their duties amounted to +nothing, for Raymond slept through the greater part of the night and +declared himself better in the morning. + +He had to stop with his aunt, however, for two or three days, and while +Estelle, her ministration ended, was going away after the doctor +pronounced Raymond on the road to recovery, the patient begged her to +remain. He appeared in a sentimental vein, and the experience of being +nursed was so novel that Ironsyde endured it without a murmur. To +Estelle, who did not guess he was rather enjoying it, the spectacle of +his patience under pain awoke admiration. Indeed, she thought him most +heroic and he made no effort to undeceive her. + +Incidentally, during his brief convalescence the man saw more of his +aunt than he had seen for many days. She also must needs nurse him and +exhaust her ingenuity to pass the time. The room was kept dark for +eight-and-forty hours, so her method of entertaining her nephew +consisted chiefly in conversation. + +Of late years Raymond seldom let a week elapse without seeing Miss +Ironsyde if only for half an hour. Her waning health occupied him on +these occasions and, at his suggestion, she had gone to Bath to fight +the arthritis that slowly gained upon her. But during his present +sojourn at Bridport as her guest, Raymond let her lead their talk as she +would, indeed, he himself sometimes led it into channels of the past, +where she would not have ventured to go. + +Life had made an immense difference to the man and he was old for his +age now, even as until his brother's death he had been young for his +age. She could not fail to note the steadfastness of his mind, despite +its limitations. As Estelle had often done, she perceived how he set +his faith on material things--the steel and steam--to bring about a new +order and advance the happiness of mankind; but he was interested in +social questions far more than of old time, and she felt no little +surprise to hear him talk about the future. + +"The air is full of change," she said, on one occasion. + +"It always is," he answered. "There is always movement, although the +breath of advance and progress seems to sink to nothing, sometimes. Now +it's blowing a stiff breeze and may rise to a hurricane in a few years." + +"It is for the stable, solid backbone of the nation--we of the +middle-class--to withstand such storms," she declared, and he agreed. + +"If you've got a stake in the world, you must certainly see its +foundations are driven deep and look to the stake itself, that it's not +rotting. Some stakes are certainly not made of stuff stout enough to +stand against the storms ahead. Education is the great, vital thing. I +often feel mad to think how I wasted my own time at school, and came to +man's work a raw, ignorant fool. We talk of the education of the masses +and what I see is this: they will soon be better educated than we +ourselves; for we bring any amount of sense and modern ideas to work on +their teaching, while our own prehistorical methods are left severely +alone. I believe the boys who come to working age now are better taught +than I was at my grammar school. I wish I knew more." + +"Yet we see education may run us into great dangers," said Jenny +Ironsyde. "It can be pushed to a perilous point. One even hears a murmur +against the Bible in the schools. It makes my blood run cold. And we +need not look farther than dear Estelle to see the peril." + +"What do you think of Estelle?" he asked. "I almost welcome this stupid +collapse, nuisance though it is, because it's made a sort of +resting-place and brought me nearer to you and Estelle. You've both been +so kind. A man such as I am, is so busy and absorbed that he forgets +all about women; then suddenly lying on his back--done for and +useless--he finds they don't forget all about him." + +"You ask what I think about Estelle?" she said. "I never think about +Estelle--no more than I do about the sunshine, or my comfortable bed, or +my tea. She's just one of the precious things I take for granted. I love +her. She is a great deal to me, and the hours she spends with a rather +old-fashioned and cross-grained woman are the happiest hours I know." + +"I'm like her father," he said. "I give Estelle best. Nothing can spoil +her, because she's so utterly uninterested in herself. Another thing: +she's so fair--almost morbidly fair. The only thing that makes her +savage is injustice. If she sees an injustice, she won't leave it alone +if it's in her power to alter it. That's her father in her. What he +calls 'sporting,' she calls 'justice.' And, of course, the essence of +sport is justice, if you think it out." + +"I don't know anything about sport, but I suppose I have to thank +cricket for your company at present. As for Estelle. I think she has a +great idea of your judgment and opinion." + +He laughed. + +"If she does, it's probably because I generally agree with her. +Besides--" + +He broke off and lighted a cigarette. + +"'Besides' what?" asked the lady. + +"Well--oh I hardly know. I'm tremendously fond of her. Perhaps I've +taken her too much as you say we take the sun and our meat and drink--as +a matter of course. Yes, like the sun, and as unapproachable." + +Miss Ironsyde considered. + +"I suppose you're right. I can well imagine that to the average man a +'Una,' such as Estelle, may seem rather unapproachable." + +"We're very good friends, though how good I never quite guessed till +this catastrophe. She seemed to come and help look after me as a matter +of course. Didn't think it a bit strange." + +"She's simple, but in a very noble way. I've only one quarrel with +her--the faith of her fathers--" + +"Leave it. You'll only put your foot into it, Aunt Jenny." + +"Never," she said. "I shall never put my foot into it where right and +wrong are concerned--with Estelle or you, or anybody else. I'm nearly +seventy, remember, Raymond, and one knows what is imperishable and to be +trusted at that age." + +Thus she negatived Mr. Churchouse's dictum--that mere age demanded no +particular reverence, since many years are as liable to error as few. + +Her nephew was doubtful. + +"Right and wrong are a never-ending puzzle," he said. "They vary so from +the point of view. And if you once grant there are more view points than +one, where are you?" + +"Right and wrong are not doubtful," she assured him, "and all the +science in the world can't turn one into the other--any more than light +can turn into darkness." + +"Light can turn into darkness easily enough. I've learned that during +the last three days," he answered. "If you fill this room with light, I +can't see. If you keep it dark, I can." + +Estelle came to tea and read some notes that Mr. Best had prepared for +Raymond. They satisfied him, and the meal was merry, for he found +himself free of pain and in the best spirits. Estelle, too, had some +gossip that amused him. Her father was already practising at clay +pigeons to get his eye in for the first of September; and he wished to +inform Raymond that he was shooting well and hoped for a better season +than the last. He had also seen a vixen and three cubs on North Hill at +five o'clock in the morning of the preceding day. + +"In fact, it's the best of all possible worlds so far as father is +concerned," said Estelle, "and now he hears you're coming home early +next week, he will go to church on Sunday with a thankful heart. He said +yesterday that Raymond's accident had a bright side. D'you know what it +is? Ray meant to give up cricket altogether after this year; but father +points out that he cannot do so now. Because it is morally impossible +for Ray to stop playing until he stands up again to that bowler who hurt +him so badly. 'Morally impossible,' is what father said." + +"He's quite right too," declared the patient. "Till I've knocked that +beggar out of his own ground for six, I certainly shan't chuck cricket. +We must meet again next season, if we're both alive. Everybody can see +that." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE GATHERING PROBLEM + + +Sabina Dinnett found that her mind was not so indifferent to her +fortunes as she supposed. Upon examining it, with respect to the problem +of leaving Bridetown for Abel's sake, which Ernest had now raised, she +discovered a very keen disinclination to depart. Here was the only home +that she, or her child, had ever known, and though that mattered +nothing, she shrank from beginning a new life away from 'The Magnolias' +under the increased responsibility of sole control where Abel was +concerned. Moreover, Mr. Churchouse had more power with Abel than +anybody. The boy liked him and must surely win sense and knowledge from +him, as Sabina herself had won them in the past. She knew that these +considerations were superficial and the vital point in reason was to +separate the son from the father; so that Abel's existing animus might +perish. Both Estelle and Ernest Churchouse had impressed the view upon +her; but here crept in the personal factor, and Sabina found that she +had no real desire to mend the relationship. Considerations of her +child's future pointed to more self-denial, but only that Abel might in +time come to be reconciled to Raymond and accept good at his hands. And +when Sabina thought upon this, she soon saw that her own indifference, +where Ironsyde was concerned, did not extend to the future of the boy. +She could still feel, and still suffer, and still resent certain +possibilities. She trusted that in time to come, when Mr. Churchouse and +Miss Ironsyde were gone, the measure of her son's welfare would be hers. +She was content to see herself depending upon him; but not if his own +prosperity came from his father. She preferred to picture Abel as +making his way without obligations to that source. She might have +married and made her own home, but that alternative never tempted her, +since it would have thrust her off the pedestal which she occupied, as +one faithful to the faithless, one bitterly wronged, a reproach to the +good name--perhaps, even a threat to the sustained prosperity of Raymond +Ironsyde. She could feel all this at some moments. + +She determined now to let the matter rest, and when Ernest Churchouse +ventured to remind her of the subject and to repeat the opinion that it +might be wise for Sabina to take the boy away from Bridetown, she +postponed decision. + +"I've thought upon it," she said, "and I feel it can very well be left +to the spring, if you see nothing against. I've promised to do some +braiding in my spare time this winter for a firm at Bridport that wants +netting in large quantities. They are giving it out to those who can do +it; and as for Abel, he'll go to his day-school through the winter. And +it means a great deal to me, Mister Churchouse, that you are as good and +helpful to him as you were to me when I was young. I don't want to lose +that." + +"I wish I'd been more helpful, my dear." + +"You taught me a great many things valuable to know. I should have been +in my grave years ago, but for you, I reckon. And the child's only a +child still. If you work upon him, you'll make him meek and mild in +time." + +"He'll never be meek and mild, Sabina--any more than you were. He has +plenty of character; he's good material--excellent stuff to be moulded +into a fine pattern, I hope. But a little leaven leavens the whole lump +of a child, and what I can do is not enough to outweigh other +influences." + +"I don't fear for him. He's got to face facts, and as he grows he must +use his own wits and get his own living." + +"The fear is that he may be spoiled and come to settled, rooted +prejudices, too hard to break down afterwards. He is a very interesting +boy, just as you were a very interesting girl, Sabina. He often reminds +me of you. There are the possibilities of beauty in his character. He is +sentimental about some things and strangely indifferent about others. He +is a mixture of exaggerated kindness in some directions and utter +callousness in others. Sentimental people often are. He will pick a +caterpillar out of the road to save it from death, and he will stone a +dog if he has a grudge against it. His attitude to Peter Grim is one of +devotion. He actually told me that it was very sad that Peter had now +grown too old to catch mice. Again, he always brings me the first +primrose and spares no pains to find it. Such little acts argue a kindly +nature. But against them, you have to set his unreasoning dislike of +human beings and a certain--shall I say buccaneering spirit." + +"He feels, and so he'll suffer--as I did. The more you feel, the more +you suffer." + +"And it is therefore our duty to prevent him from feeling mistakenly and +wanting to make others suffer. He may sometimes catch allusions in his +quick ears that cause him doubt and even pain. And it is certain that +the sight of his father does wake wrong thoughts. Removed from here, the +best part of him would develop, and when the larger questions of his +future begin to be considered in a few years time, he might then +approach them with an open mind." + +"There can be no harm in leaving it till the spring. He'd hate going +away from here." + +"I don't think so. The young welcome a change of environment. There is +nothing more healthy for their minds as a rule than to travel about. +However, we will get him used to the idea of going and think about it +again in the spring." + +So the subject was left, and when the suggestion of departing from +Bridetown came to Abel, he belied the prophecy of Mr. Churchouse and +declared a strong objection to the thought of going. His mother +influenced him in this. + +During the autumn he had a misfortune, for, with two other members of +the 'Red Hand,' he was caught stealing apples at the time of +cider-making. Three strokes of a birch rod fell on each revolutionary, +and not Ernest Churchouse nor his mother could console Abel for this +reverse. He gleaned his sole comfort at a dangerous source, and while +the kindly ignored the event and the unkindly dwelt upon it, only Levi +Baggs applauded Abel and preached privi-conspiracy and rebellion. +Raymond Ironsyde was much perturbed at the adventure, but his friend +Waldron held the event desirable. As a Justice of the Peace, it was +Arthur who prescribed the punishment and trusted in it. + +Thus he, too, incurred Abel's enmity. The company of the 'Red Hand' was +disbanded to meet no more, and if his fellow sufferers gained by their +chastisement, it was certain that Sabina's son did not. Insensate law +fits the punishment to the crime rather than to the criminal, as though +a doctor should only treat disease, without thought of the patient +enduring it. + +Neither did Abel's mother take the reverse with philosophy. She resented +it as cruel cowardice; but it reminded her of the advantages to be +gained by leaving her old home. + +Then fell an unexpected disaster and Mr. Churchouse was called to suffer +a dangerous attack of bronchitis. + +The illness seemed to banish all other considerations from Sabina's mind +and, while the issue remained in doubt, she planned various courses of +action. Incidentally, she saw more of Estelle and Miss Ironsyde than of +late, for Mr. Churchouse, whose first pleasure on earth was now Estelle, +craved her presence during convalescence, as Raymond in like case had +done; and Miss Ironsyde also drove to see him on several occasions. The +event filled all with concern, for Ernest had a trick to make friends +and, what is more rare, an art to keep them. Many beyond his own circle +were relieved and thankful when he weathered danger and began to build +up again with the lengthening days of the new year. + +Abel had been very solicitous on his behalf, and he praised the child to +Jenny and Estelle, when they came to drink tea with him on a day in +early spring. + +"I believe there are great possibilities in him and, when I am stronger, +I shall resume my attack on Sabina to go away," he said. "The boy's mind +is being poisoned and we might prevent it." + +"It's a most unfortunate state of affairs," declared Miss Ironsyde. "Yet +it was bound to happen in a little place like this. Raymond is not +sensitive, or he would feel it far more than he does." + +"He can't do more and he does feel it a great deal," declared Estelle. +"I think Sabina sees it clearly enough, but it's very hard on her too, +to have to go from Mister Churchouse and her home." + +"Nothing is more mysterious than the sowing and germination of spiritual +seed," said the old man. "The enemy sowed tares by night, and what can +be more devilish than sowing the tares of evil on virgin soil? It was +done long ago. One hesitates to censure the dead, though I daresay, if +we could hear them talking in another world, we should find they didn't +feel nearly so nice about us and speak their minds quite plainly. We +know plenty of people who must be criticising. But truth will out, and +the truth is that Mary Dinnett planted evil thoughts and prejudices in +Abel. He was not too young, unfortunately, to give them room. A very +curious woman--obstinate and almost malignant if vexed and quite +incapable of keeping silence even when it was most demanded. If you are +going to give people confidences, you must have a good memory. Mary +would confide all sorts of secrets to me and then, perhaps six months +afterwards, be quite furious to find I knew them! She came to me for +advice on one occasion and I reminded her of certain circumstances she +had confided to me in the past, and she lost her temper entirely. Yet a +woman of most excellent qualities and most charitable in other people's +affairs." + +"The question is Abel, and I have told Sabina she must decide about +him," said Jenny. "We are all of one mind, and Raymond himself thinks it +would be most desirable. As soon as you are well again, Sabina must go." + +"I shall miss her very much. To find anybody who will fall into my ways +may be difficult. When I was younger, I used to like training a +domestic. I found it was better to rule by love than fear. You may lose +here and there, but you gain more than you lose. Human character is +really not so profoundly difficult, if you resolutely try to see life +from the other person's standpoint. That done, you can help them--and +yourself through them." + +"People who show you their edges, instead of their rounds, are not at +all agreeable," said Miss Ironsyde. "To conquer the salients of +character is often a very formidable task." + +"It is," he admitted, "yet I have found the comfortable, convex and +concave characters often really more difficult in the long run. You must +have some hard and durable rock on which to found understanding and +security. The soft, crumbling people may be lovable; but they are +useless as sand at a crisis. They are always slipping away and +threatening to smother their best friends with the debris." + +He chattered on until a fit of coughing stopped him. + +"You mustn't talk so much," warned Estelle. "It's lovely to hear you +talking again; but it isn't good for you, yet." + +Then she turned to Miss Ironsyde. + +"The first time I came in and found him reading a book catalogue, I knew +he was going to be all right." + +"By the same token another gift has reached me," he answered; "a book on +the bells of Devon, which I have long wanted to possess." + +"I'm sure it is not such a perfect book as yours." + +"Indeed it is--very excellently done. The bell mottoes in Devonshire +are worthy of all admiration. But a great many of the bells in ancient +bell-chambers are crazed--a grave number. People don't think as much of +a ring of bells in a parish as they used to do." + +Miss Ironsyde brought the conversation back to Abel; but Ernest was +tired of this. He viewed Sabina's departure with great personal regret. + +"Things will be as they will, my dears," he told them, "and I have such +respect for Sabina's good sense that I shall be quite content to leave +decision with her. It would not become me to dictate or command in such +a delicate matter. To return to the bells, I have received a rather +encouraging statement from the publishers. Four copies of my book have +been sold during the last six months." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WALK HOME + + +Upon a Bank Holiday Sabina took Abel to West Haven for a long day on the +beach and pier. He enjoyed himself very thoroughly, ate, drank and +played to his heart's content. But his amusements brought more pleasure +to the child than his mother, for he found the wonderful old stores and +discovered therein far more entertaining occupation than either sea or +shore could offer. + +The place was deserted to-day, and while Sabina sat outside in a corner +of the courtyard and occupied herself with the future, Abel explored the +mysteries of the ancient building and found all manner of strange nooks +and mysterious passages. He wove dreams and magnified the least incident +into an adventure. He inhabited the dark corners and sombre, +subterranean places with enemies that wanted to catch him; he most +potently believed that hidden treasures awaited him under the +hollow-echoing floors. Once he had a rare fright, for a bat hanging +asleep in its folded wings, was wakened by him and suddenly flew into +his face. He climbed and crawled and crept about, stole a lump of putty +and rejoiced at the discovery of some paint pots and a brush. The 'Red +Hand' no longer existed; but the opportunity once more to set up its +sinister symbol was too good to resist. He painted it on the walls in +several places and then called his mother to look at the achievement. + +She climbed up a long flight of stone steps that led to the lofts, and +suffered a strange experience presently, for the child was playing in +the chamber sacred to her surrender. She stood where twelve years before +she had come with Raymond Ironsyde after their day at Golden Cap. + +Light fell through a window let into the roof. It was broken and +fringed with cobwebs. The pile of fishermen's nets had vanished and a +carpenter's bench had taken its place. On the walls and timbers were +scrawled names and initials of holiday folk, who had explored the old +stores through many years. + +Sabina, perceiving where she stood, closed her eyes and took an +involuntary step backward. Abel called attention to his sign upon the +walls. + +"The carpenter will shiver when he sees that," he said. + +Then he rambled off, whistling, and she sat down and stared round her. +She told herself that deep thoughts must surely wake under this sudden +experience and the fountains of long sealed emotion bubble upwards, to +drown her before them. Instead she merely found herself incapable of +thinking. A dull, stale, almost stagnant mood crept over her. Her mind +could neither walk nor fly. After the first thrill of recognition, the +light went out and she found herself absolutely indifferent. Not anger +touched her, nor pain. That the child of that perished passion should +play here, and laugh and be merry was poignant, but it did not move her +and she felt a sort of surprise that it should not. There was a time +when such an experience must have shaken her to the depths, plunged her +into some deep pang of soul and left indelible wounds; now, no such +thing happened. + +She gazed mildly about her and almost smiled. Then she rose from her +seat on the carpenter's bench, went out and descended the staircase +again. + +When she called him to a promised tea at an inn, Abel came at once. He +was weary and well content. + +"I shall often come here," he said. "It's the best place I know--better +than the old kiln on North Hill. I could hide there and nobody find me, +and you could bring me food at night." + +"What do you want to hide for, pretty?" she asked. + +"I might," he answered and looked at her cautiously For a moment he +seemed inclined to say more, but did not. + +After tea they set out for home, and the fate, which, through the +incident of the old store, had subtly prepared and paved a way to +something of greater import, sent Raymond Ironsyde. They had passed the +point at which the road from West Haven converges into that from +Bridport, and a man on horseback overtook them. They were all going in +the same direction and Abel, as soon as he saw who approached, left his +mother, went over a convenient gate upon their right and hastened up a +hedge. Thus he always avoided his father, and when blamed for so doing, +would silently endure the blame without explanation or any offer of +excuse. Raymond had seen him thus escape on more than one occasion, and +the incident, clashing at this moment upon his own thoughts, prompted +him to a definite and unusual thing. The opportunity was good; Sabina +walked alone, and if she rebuffed him, he could endure the rebuff. + +He determined to speak to her and break a silence of many years. The +result he could not guess, but since he was actuated by friendly motives +alone, he hoped the sudden inspiration might prove fertile of good. At +worse she could only decline his advance and refuse to speak with him. + +Their thoughts that day, unknown to each, had been upon the other and +there was some emotion in the man's voice when he spoke, though none in +hers when she answered. For to him that chance meeting came as a +surprise and prompted him to a sudden approach he might not have +ventured on maturer consideration; to her it seemed to carry on the +experience of the day and, unguessed by Raymond, brought less amazement +than he imagined. She was a fatalist--perhaps, had always been so, as +her mother before her; yet she knew it not. They had passed and repassed +many times during the vanished years; but since the moment that she had +dismissed him with scorn and hoped her child would live to insult his +grave, they had never spoken. + +He inquired now if he might address her. + +"May I say a few words to you?" he asked. + +Not knowing what was in her mind, he felt surprised at her conventional +reply. + +"I suppose so, if you wish to do so." + +Her voice seemed to roll back time. Yet he guessed her to be less +indifferent than her words implied. + +He dismounted and walked beside her. + +"I dare say you can understand a little what I feel, when I see that +child run away whenever he sets eyes on me," he began; but she did not +help him. His voice to her ear was changed. It had grown deeper and +hardened. It was more monotonous and did not rise and fall as swiftly as +of old. + +"I don't know at all what you feel about him. I didn't know that you +felt anything about him." + +This was a false note and he felt pained. + +"Indeed, Sabina, you know very well I want his friendship--I need it +even. Before anything I wish to befriend him." + +"You can't help him. He's a very affectionate child and loves me dearly. +You wouldn't understand him. He's all heart." + +He marked now the great change in Sabina. Her voice was cold and +indifferent. But a cynic fate willed this mood. Had she not spent the +day at West Haven and stood in the old store, it is possible she might +have listened to him in another spirit. + +"I know he's a clever boy, with plenty of charm about him. And I do +think, whatever you may feel, Sabina, it is doubtfully wise of you to +stand between him and me." + +"If you fancy that, it is a good thing you spoke," she answered. +"Because nothing further from the truth could be. I don't stand between +him and you. I've never influenced him against you. He's heard nothing +but the fact that you're his father from me. I've been careful to leave +it at that, and I've never answered more than the truth to his many +questions." + +"It is a very great sorrow to me, and it will largely ruin my life if I +cannot win his friendship and plan his future." + +"A child's friendship is easily won. If he denies it, you may be sure it +is for a natural instinct." + +"Such an instinct is most unnatural. He has had nothing but friendly +words and friendly challenges from me." + +She felt herself growing impatient. It was clear that he had spoken out +of interest for the child alone, and any shadowy suspicion that he +designed to declare interest in herself departed from Sabina's mind. + +"Well, what's that to me? I can't alter him. I can't make him regard you +as a hero and a father to be proud of. He's not hard-hearted or anything +of that. He's pretty much like other boys of his age--more sensitive, +that's all. He can suffer very sharply and bitterly and he did when that +cruel, blundering fool at North Hill House had him whipped. He gets the +cursed power to suffer from his mother. And, such is his position in the +world, that his power to suffer no doubt will be proved to the utmost." + +"I don't want him to suffer. At least it is in my reach to save him a +great deal of needless suffering." + +"That's just what it isn't--not with his nature. He'd rather suffer than +be beholden to you for anything. Young as he is, he's told me so in so +many words. He knows he's different from other boys--already he knows +it--and that breeds bitterness. He's like a dog that's been ill-treated +and finds it hard to trust anybody in consequence. Unfortunately for +you, he's got brains enough to judge; and the older he grows, the harder +he'll judge." + +"That's what I want to break down, Sabina. It's awfully sad to feel, +that for a prejudice against things that can't be altered, he should +stand in his own light and be a needless martyr and make me a greater +villain than I am." + +"Are you a villain? If you are, it isn't my child that made you one--nor +me, either. No doubt it's awkward to see him running about and breathing +the same air with you." + +He felt an impulse of anger, but easily checked it. + +"You're rather hard on me, I think. It's a great deal more than awkward +to have my child take this line. It's desperately sad. And you must +know--thinking purely and only of him--that nothing can be gained and +much lost by it. You say he'll hate me more as he grows older. But isn't +that a thing to avoid? What good comes into the world with hate? Can't +you see that it's your place, Sabina, to use your influence on my side?" + +"My God!" she said, "was there ever such a selfish man as you! Out of +your own mouth you condemn yourself, for it's your inconvenience and +discomfort that's troubling you--not his fate. He's a living witness +against you--a running sore in your side--and that's why you want his +friendship, to ease yourself and heal your conscience. Anybody could see +that." + +He did not answer; but this indictment astonished him. Could she still +be so stern after the years that had swept over their quarrel? + +"You wrong me there, Sabina. Indeed, it's not for my own comfort only, +but much more largely for his that I am so much concerned. Surely we can +meet on the common ground of his welfare and leave the rest?" + +"What common ground is there? Why must I think your friendship and your +money are the best possible things for him? Why should I advise him to +take what I refused for myself twelve years and more ago? You offered me +your friendship and your money--as a substitute for being your wife. You +were so stark ignorant of the girl you'd promised to marry, that you +offered her cash and the privilege of your company after your child was +born. And now you offer your child cash and the privilege of your +company--that's all. You deny him your name, as you denied his mother +your name; and why should he pick up the crumbs from your table that his +mother would have starved rather than eaten? I've never spoken against +you to him and never shall, but I'm not a fool now--whatever I was--and +I'm not going to urge my son to seek you and put his little heart into +your keeping; because well I know what you do with hearts. I'm outside +your life and so is he; and if he likes to come into your life, I shan't +prevent it. I couldn't prevent it. He'll do about it as he chooses, when +he's old enough to measure it up. But I'm not for you, or against you. +I'm only the suffering sort, not the fighting sort. You know whether you +deserve the love and worship of that little, nameless boy." + +He was struck into silence, not at her bitter words, but at his own +thoughts. For he had often speculated on future speech with her and +wondered when it would happen and what it would concern. He had hoped +that she would let the past go and be his friend again on another plane. +He had pictured some sort of amity based on the old romance. He had +desired nothing so much in life as a friendly understanding and the +permission to contribute to the ease and comfort of Sabina and the +prosperity of his son. He hoped that in course of time and faced with +the rights of the child, she would come round. He had pictured her +coming round. But now it seemed that he was not to plan their future on +his own terms. What he offered had not grown sweeter to her senses. No +gifts that he could devise would be anything but poor in the light of +the unkind past. And that light burned steadfastly still. She was not +changed. As he listened to her, it seemed that she was merely picking up +the threads where they were dropped. He feared that if he stopped much +longer beside her, she would come back to the old anger and wake into +the old wrath. + +"I'd dearly hoped that you didn't feel like that, any more. You've got +right on your side up to a point, though human differences are so +involved that it very seldom happens you can get a clean cut between +right and wrong. However, the time is past for arguing about that, +Sabina. Granted you are right in your personal attitude, don't carry it +on into the next generation and assume I cannot even yet, after all +these years, be trusted to befriend my own child." + +"He's only your child in nature. He's only your child because your +blood's in his veins. He's my child, not yours." + +"But if I want to make him mine? If I want to lift him up and assure his +future? If I want to assume paternity--claim it, adopt him as my son--to +succeed me some day?" + +"He must decide for himself whether that's the high-water mark for his +future life--to be your adopted son. We can't have it all our own way in +this world--not even you, I suppose. A child has to have a mother as +well as a father, and a mother's got her rights in her child. Even the +law allows that." + +"Who'd deny them, Sabina? You're possessed, as you always were, with the +significance of legal marriage. You don't know that marriage is merely a +human contrivance and, nine times out of ten, an infernally clumsy +makeshift and a long-drawn pretence. Like every other human shift, it is +a thing that gets out-grown by the advance of humanity towards higher +ideals and cleaner liberties. We are approaching a time when the edifice +will be shaken to its mouldering foundations, and presently, while the +Church and the State are wrangling and quibbling, as they soon must be, +over the loathsome divorce laws, these mandarins will wake up to find +the marriage laws themselves are being threatened by a new generation +sick of the archaic tomfoolery that controls them. If you could only +take a larger view and not let yourself be bound down by your own +experience--" + +"You'd better go," she said. "If you'd spoken, so twelve years ago on +Golden Cap, and not hid your heart and lied to me and promised what you +never meant to perform, I'd not be walking the world a lonely, despised +woman to-day. And law, or no law, the law of the natural child is the +law of the land--cruel and vile though it may be." + +"I'll go, Sabina; but I must say what I want to say, first. I must stand +up for Abel--even against you. Childish impressions and dislikes can be +rooted out if taken in time; if left to grow, they get beyond reach. So +I ask you to think of him. And don't pretend to yourself that my +friendship is dangerous, or can do him anything but good. I'm very +different from what I was. Life hasn't gone over me for nothing. I know +what's right well enough, and I know what I owe your son and my son, and +I want to make up to him and more than make up to him for his +disadvantages. Don't prevent me from doing that. Give me a chance, +Sabina. Give me a chance to be a good father to him. Your word is law +with him, and if you left Bridetown and took him away from all the +rumours and unkind things he may hear here, it would let his mind grow +empty of me for a few years; and then, when he's older and more +sensible, I think I could win him." + +"You want us away from this place." + +"I do. I never should have spoken to you until I knew you wished it, but +for this complication; but since the boy is growing up prejudiced +against me, I do feel that some strong effort should be taken to nip his +young hatred in the bud--for his sake, Sabina." + +"Are you sure it's all for his sake? Because I'm not. They say you think +of nothing on God's earth but machinery nowadays, and look to machines +to do the work of hands, and speak of 'hands' when you ought to speak of +'souls.' They say if you could, you'd turn out all the people and let +everything be done by steam and steel. There's not much humanity in you, +I reckon. And why should you care for one little, unwanted boy? +Perhaps, if you looked deeper into yourself, you'd find it was your own +peace, rather than his, that's making you wish us away from Bridetown. +At any rate, that's how one or two have seen and said it, when they +heard how everybody was at me to go. I've had to live down the past for +long, slow, heart-breaking years and seen the fingers pointed at me; and +now, with the child growing up, it's your turn I daresay, and you--so +strong and masterful--have had enough of pointing fingers and mean to +pack us out of our home--for your comfort." + +He stared at her in the gathering dusk and stood and uttered a great +sigh from deep in his lungs. + +"I'm sorry for you, Sabina--sorrier than I am for myself. This is cruel. +I didn't know, or dream, that time had stood still for you like this." + +"Time ended for me--then." + +"For me it had to go on. I must think about this. I didn't guess it was +like this with you. Don't think I want you away; don't think you're the +only thorn in my pillow and that I'm not used to pain and anxiety, or +impatient of all the implicit meaning of your lonely life. Stop, if you +want to stop. I'll see you again, Sabina, please. Now I'll be gone." + +When he had mounted his horse and ridden away without more words from +her, Abel, who had been lurking along on the other side of the hedge, +crept through it and rejoined his mother. + +They walked on in silence for some time. Then the child spoke. + +"Fancy your talking to Mister Ironsyde, mother!" + +"He talked to me." + +"I lay you dressed him down then?" + +"I told him the truth, Abel. He wants everything for nothing, Mister +Ironsyde does. He wants you--for nothing." + +"He's a beast, and I hate him, and he'll know I hate him some day." + +"Don't hate him. He's not worth hating." + +"I will hate him, I tell you. But for him I'd be the great man in +Bridetown when he dies. Mister Baggs told me that." + +"You mustn't give heed to what people say. You've got mother to look +after you." + +The boy was tired and spoke no more. He padded silently along beside her +and presently she heard him laugh to himself. His thoughts had wandered +back to the joy of the old store. + +And she was thinking of what had happened. She, too, even as Raymond, +had imagined what speech would fall out between them after the long +years and wondered concerning the form it would take. She had imagined +no such conversation as this. Half of her regretted it; but the other +half was glad. He had gone on, but it was well that he should know she +had stood still. Could there be any more terrible news for him than to +hear that she had stood still--to feel that he had turned a living woman +into a pillar of stone? + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +EPITAPH + + +It cannot be determined by what train of reasoning Abel proceeded from +one unfortunate experience to create another, or why the grief +incidental on a loss should now have nerved him to an evil project long +hidden in his thoughts. But so it was; he suffered a sorrow and, under +the influence of it, found himself strong enough to attempt a crime. + +There was no sort of connection between the two, for nothing could bear +less upon his evil project than the death of Mr. Churchouse's old cat; +yet thus it fell out and the spirit of Abel reacted to his own tears. + +He came home one day from school to learn how the sick cat prospered and +was told to go into the study. His mother knew the child to be much +wrapped up in Peter Grim, and dreading to break the news, begged Mr. +Churchouse to do so. + +"Your old playfellow has left us, daddy," said Ernest. "I am glad to say +he died peacefully while you were at school. I think he only had a very +little bit of his ninth and last life left, for he was fifteen years old +and had suffered some harsh shocks." + +"Dead?" asked Abel with a quivering mouth. + +"And I think that we ought to give him a nice grave and put up a little +stone to his memory." + +Thus he tried to distract the boy from his loss. + +"We will go at once," he said, "and choose a beautiful spot in the +garden for his grave. You can take one of those pears and eat it while +we search." + +But Abel shook his head. + +"Couldn't eat and him lying dead," he answered. He was crying. + +They went through the French window from the study. + +"Do you know any particular place that he liked?" + +Slowly the child's sorrow lessened in the passing interest of finding +the grave. + +"You must dig it, please, when you come back from afternoon school." + +Abel suggested spots not practical in the other's opinion. + +"A more secluded site would be better," he declared. "He was very fond +of shade. In fact, rather a shady customer himself in his young days. +But not a word against the dead. His old age was dignified and +blameless. You don't remember the time when he used to steal chickens, +do you?" + +"He never did anything wrong that I know of," said Abel. "And he always +came and padded on my bed of a morning, like as if he was riding a +bicycle--and--and--" + +He wept again. + +"If I thought anybody had poisoned him, I'd poison them," he said. + +"Think no such thing. He simply died because he couldn't go on living. +You shall have another cat, and it shall be your own." + +"I don't want another cat. I hate all other cats but him." + +They found a spot in a side walk, where lily of the valley grew, and +later in the day Abel dug a grave. + +Estelle happened to visit Mr. Churchouse and he explained the tragedy. + +"If you attend the funeral, the boy might tolerate you," he said. "Once +break down his suspicion and get to his wayward heart, good would come +of it He is feeling this very much and in a melting mood." + +"I'll stop, if he won't be vexed." + +Mr. Churchouse went into the garden and praised Abel's energies. + +"A beautiful grave; and it is right and proper that Peter Grim should +lie here, because he often hunted here." + +"He caught the mice that live in holes at the bottom of the wall," said +Abel. + +"If you are ready, we will now bury him. Mother must come to the +funeral, and Estelle must come, because she was very, very fond of poor +Peter and she would think it most unkind of us if we buried him while +she was not there. She will bring some flowers for the grave, and you +must get some flowers, too, Abel. We must, in fact, each put a flower on +him." + +The boy frowned at mention of Estelle, but forgot her in considering the +further problem. + +"He liked the mint bed. I'll put mint on him," he said. + +"An excellent thought. And I shall pluck one of the big magnolias +myself." + +Returning, Ernest informed Estelle that she must be at the funeral and +she went home for a bunch of blossoms to grace the tomb. She picked +hot-house flowers, hoping to propitiate Abel. There woke a great hope in +her to win him. But she failed. + +He glowered at her when she appeared walking beside his mother, while +before them marched Mr. Churchouse carrying the departed. When the +funeral was ended and Abel left alone, he sat down by the grave, cried, +worked himself into a very mournful mood and finally exhibited anger. +Why he was angry he did not know, or against whom his temper grew; but +his great loss woke resentment. When he felt miserable, somebody was +always blamed by him for making him feel so. No immediate cause for +quarrel with anything smaller than fate challenged his unsettled mind; +then his eyes fixed upon Estelle's flowers, and since Estelle was always +linked in his thoughts with his father, and his father represented an +enemy, he began to hate the flowers and wish them away. He heard his +mother calling him, but hid from her and when she was silent, came back +to the grave again. + +Meantime Estelle and Ernest drank tea and spoke of Abel. + +"When grief has relaxed the emotions, we may often get in a kindly word +and give an enemy something to think about afterwards," he said. "But +the boy was obdurate. He is the victim of confused thinking--precocious +to a degree in some directions, but very childish in others. At times he +alarms me. Poor boy. You must try again to win him. The general +sentiment is that the young should be patient with the old; but for my +part I think it is quite as difficult sometimes for the old to be +patient with the young." + +He turned to his desk. + +"When I found my dear cat was not, I composed an epitaph for him, +Estelle. I design to have it scratched on a stone and set above his +sleeping place." + +"Do let me hear it," she said, and Ernest, fired with the joy of +composition, read his memorial verse. + +"Criticise freely," he said. "I value your criticism and you understand +poetry. Not that this is a poem--merely an epitaph; but it may easily be +improved, I doubt not." + +He put on his glasses and read: + +"'Ended his mingled joy and strife, + Here lies the dust of Peter Grim. + Though life was very kind to him, + He proved not very kind to life.'" + +Estelle applauded. + +"Perfect," she said. "You must have it carved on his tombstone." + +"I think it meets the case. I may have been prejudiced in my affection +for him, owing to his affection for me. He came to me at the age of five +weeks, and his attitude to me from the first was devoted." + +"Cats have such cajoling ways." + +"He was not himself honest, yet, I think, saw the value of honesty in +others. Plain dealers are a temptation to rogues and none, as a rule, is +a better judge of an honest man than a dishonest cat." + +"He wasn't quite a rogue, was he?" + +"He knew that I am respected, and he traded on my reputation. His life +has been spared on more than one occasion for my sake." + +"On the whole he was not a very model cat, I'm afraid," said Estelle. + +"Yes, that is just what he was: a model--cat." + +They went out to look at the grave again, and something hurried away +through the bushes as they did so. + +"Friends, or possibly enemies," suggested Mr. Churchouse, but Estelle, +sharper-eyed, saw Abel disappear. She also noted that her bouquet of +flowers had gone from Peter's mound. + +"Oh dear, he's taken away my offering," she said. + +"What a hard-hearted boy! Are there no means of winning him?" + +They spoke of Abel and his mother. + +"We all regretted her decision to stop. It would have been better if she +had gone away." + +"Raymond saw her some time ago." + +"So she told me; and so did he. Misfortune seems to dog the situation, +for I believe Sabina was half in a mind to take our advice until that +meeting. Then she changed. Apparently she misunderstood him." + +"Ray was very troubled. Somehow he made Sabina angry--the last thing he +meant to do. He's sorry now that he spoke. She thought he was +considering himself, and he really was thinking for Abel." + +"We must go on being patient. Next year I shall urge her to let Abel be +sent to a boarding-school. That will be a great advantage every way." + +So they talked and meantime Abel's sorrow ran into the channels of +evil. It may be that the presence of Estelle had determined this +misfortune; but he was ripe for it and his feeling prompted him to let +his misery run over, that others might drink of the cup. He had long +contemplated a definite deed and planned a stroke against Raymond +Ironsyde; but he had postponed the act, partly from fear, partly because +the thought of it was a pleasure. Inverted instincts and a mind fouled +by promptings from without, led him to understand that Ironsyde was his +mother's enemy and therefore his own. Baggs had told him so in a +malignant moment and Abel believed it. To injure his enemy was to honour +his mother. And the time had come to do so. He was ripe for it to-night. +He told himself that Peter Grim would have approved the blow, and with +his mind a chaos of mistaken opinions, at once ludicrous and mournful, +he set himself to his task. He ate his supper as usual and went to bed; +but when the house was silent in sleep, he rose, put on his clothes and +hastened out of doors. He departed by a window on the ground floor and +slipped into a night of light and shade, for the moon was full and rode +through flying clouds. + +The boy felt a youthful malefactor's desire to get his task done as +swiftly as possible. He was impatient to feel the deed behind him. He +ran through the deserted village, crossed a little bridge over the +river, and then approached the Mill by a meadow below them. Thus he +always came to see Mr. Baggs, or anybody who was friendly. + +The roof of the works shone in answer to fitful moonlight, and they +presented to his imagination a strange and unfamiliar appearance. Under +the sleight of the hour they were changed and towered majestically above +him. The Mill slept and in the creepy stillness, the river's voice, +which he had hardly heard till now, was magnified to a considerable +murmur. From far away down the valley came the song of the sea, where a +brisk, westerly wind threw the waves on the shingle. + +A feeling of awe numbed him, but it was not powerful enough to arrest +his purpose. His plans had been matured for many days. + +He meant to burn down the Mill. + +Nothing was easier and a match in the inflammable material, of which the +hackler's shop was usually full, must quickly involve the mass of the +buildings. + +It was fitting that where he had been impregnated by Mr. Baggs with much +lawless opinion, Abel should give expression to his evil purpose. From +the tar-pitched work-room of the hackler, fire would very quickly leap +to the main building against which it stood, and might, indeed, under +the strong wind, involve the stores also and John Best's dwelling +between them. But it was fated otherwise. A very small incident served +to prevent a considerable catastrophe, and when Abel broke the window of +the hackling room, turned the hasp, raised it, and got in, a man lay +awake in pain not thirty yards distant. The lad lighted a candle, which +he had brought with him, and it was then, while he collected a heap of +long hemp and prepared to set it on fire, that John Best, in torture +from toothache, went downstairs for a mouthful of brandy. + +Upon the staircase he passed a window and, glancing through it, he saw a +light in the hackling shop. It was not the moon and meant a presence +there that needed instant explanation. Mr. Best forgot his toothache, +called his sailor son, who happened to be holiday-making at home, and +hastened as swiftly and silently as possible over the bridge to the +Mill. John Best the younger, an agile man of thirty, may be said to have +saved the situation, for he was far quicker than his father could be and +managed to anticipate the disaster by moments. Half a minute more might +have made all the difference, for the heap of loose hemp and stricks +once ignited, no power on earth could have saved a considerable +conflagration; but the culprit had his back turned to the window and was +still busily piling the tow when Best and his son looked in upon him, +and the sailor was already half through the window before Abel +perceived him. The youngster dashed for his candle, but he was too late, +a pair of strong hands gripped his neck roughly enough, and he fainted +from the shock. + +They took him out as he had gone in, for the door was locked and Levi +Baggs had the key. Then the sailor went back to his home, dressed +himself and started for a policeman, while Mr. Best kept guard over +Abel. + +When he came to his senses, the boy found himself in the moonlight with +a dozen turns of stout fisherman's twine round his hands and ankles The +foreman stood over him, and now that the house was roused, his wife had +brought John a pair of trousers and a great coat, for he was in his +night shirt. + +"You'll catch your death," she said. + +"It's only by God's mercy we didn't all catch our death," he answered. +"Here's Sabina Dinnett's boy plotted to destroy the works, and we've yet +to find whether he's the tool of others, or has done the deed on his +own." + +"On my own I did it," declared Abel; "and I'll do it yet." + +"You shut your mouth, you imp of Satan!" cried the exasperated man. "Not +a word, you scamp. You've done for yourself now, and everybody knew +you'd come to it, sooner or later." + +In half an hour Abel was locked up, and when Mr. Baggs heard next +morning concerning the events of the night, he expressed the utmost +surprise and indignation. + +"Young dog! And after the friend I've been to him. Blood will tell. +That's his lawless father coming out in the wretch," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE FUTURE OF ABEL + + +Issues beyond human sight or calculation lay involved in the thing that +Abel Dinnett had done. He had cast down a challenge to society, and +everything depended on how society answered that challenge. Not only did +the child's own future turn on what must follow, but vital matters for +those who were called to act hung on their line of action. That, +however, they could not know. The tremendous significance of the +sinner's future training and the result of what must now happen to him +lay far beyond their prescience. + +It became an immediate question whether Abel might, or might not, be +saved from the punishment he had deserved. Beyond that rose another +problem, not less important, and his father doubted whether, for the +child's own sake, it would be well to intervene. Waldron strongly agreed +with him; but Estelle did not, and she used her great influence on the +side of intervention. Miss Ironsyde and Ernest Churchouse were also of +her opinion. Indeed, all concerned, save his mother and Arthur Waldron, +begged Raymond to interfere, if possible. + +He did not decide immediately. + +"The boy will be sent to a reformatory for five years if I do nothing," +he told Estelle, "and that's probably the very best thing on earth that +can happen to him. It will put the fear of God into him and possibly +obliterate his hate of me. He's bad all through, I'm afraid." + +"No he isn't--far from it. That's the point," she argued. "These things +are a legacy--a hateful legacy from his grandmother. Mister Churchouse +knows him far better than anybody else, and he says there is great +sensibility and power of feeling in him. He's tender to animals." + +"That's not much good if he's going to be tough to me. Tell me why his +mother doesn't come to me about him." + +"Mister Churchouse says she's in a strange state and doesn't seem to +care. She told him the sins of the fathers were being visited on the +children." + +"The sins of the fathers are being visited on the fathers, I should +think." + +"That's fair at any rate," she said. "I know just how you must feel. +You've been so patient, Ray, and taken such a lot of trouble. But I +believe it's all part of the fate that links you to the child. His +future is made your business now, whether you will or no. It is thrust +upon you. Nobody but you would be listened to by the law; but you can +give an undertaking and do something to save him from the horror of a +reformatory." + +Estelle and Raymond were having tea together at 'The Seven Stars' during +this conversation. Her father was returning home to Bridport by an +evening train and she had driven to meet him. Nelly Legg waited upon +them, and knowing the matter occupied many tongues, Raymond spoke to +her. + +"You can guess this is a puzzler, Nelly," he said. "What would you do? +Miss Waldron says it's up to me to try and get the boy off; but the +question is shall I be serving him best that way?" + +"My husband and me have gone over it," she confessed; "of course, +everybody has done so. You can't pretend the people aren't interested, +and if one has asked Job his opinion, a hundred have. People bring him +their puzzles and troubles as a sort of habit. From a finger ache to the +loss of a fortune they pour their difficulties into his wise head, and +for patience he's a very good second to the first of the name. And I may +tell you a curious thing, Mister Raymond, for I've seen it happen. As +the folks talk and talk to Legg, they get more and more cheerful and he +gets more and more depressed. Then, after they've let off all their woes +on the man, sometimes they'll have the grace to apologise and say it's +too bad to give him such a dose. And they always wind up by assuring him +he's done them a world of good; but they never stop to think what they +have done to him." + +"Vampires of sympathy--blood-suckers," declared Raymond. "Such kindly +men as your husband must pay for their virtues, Nelly." + +"Sympathetic people have to work hard," added Estelle. + +"Not that he wants the lesser people's gratitude, so long as he has my +admiration," explained Mrs. Legg. "And that he always will have, for +he's more than human in some particulars. And only I know the full +extent of his wonders. A master of stratagems too--the iron hand in the +velvet glove--though if you was to tell half the people in Bridport he's +got an iron hand, they never would believe it. And as to this sad +affair, he's given his opinion and won't change it. You may think him +right or wrong, but so it is." + +"And what does he say, Nelly?" + +"He says the child may be saved as a brand from the burning if the law +takes its course. He thinks that if you, or anybody, was to go bail for +the child and save him from the consequences of his wicked deed, that a +great mistake would be made. In justice to you I should say that they +don't all agree. Some hope you'll interfere--mostly women." + +"What do you think?" asked Raymond. + +"As Missis Legg, I think the same as him; and I'll tell you another +thing you may not know. The young boy's mother is by no means sure if +she don't feel the same. My married niece is her friend, and last time +she saw her, Sabina spoke about it. From what Sarah says I think she +feels it might be better for the boy to put him away. I can't say as to +her motives. Naturally she's only concerned as to the welfare of the +child and knows he'll never be trained to any good where he is." + +That Sabina had expressed so strong an opinion interested Raymond. But +Estelle refused to believe it. + +"I'm sure Sarah misunderstood," she said. "Sabina couldn't mean that." + +They went to the station presently, met Arthur Waldron and drove him +home. Estelle urged Raymond to see Sabina before he decided what to do; +and since little time was left before he must act, he went to 'The +Magnolias' that evening and begged for an interview. + +Sabina had a small sitting-room of her own in which evidence of Abel did +not lack. Drawings that he had made at school were hung on the walls, +and a steam-engine--a present from Mr. Churchouse on his twelfth +birthday--stood upon the mantel-shelf. + +"It's just this, Sabina," he said; "I won't keep you; but I feel the +future of the boy is in the balance and I can't do anything without +hearing your opinion. And first I want you to understand I have quite +forgiven him. He's not all to blame. Certain fixed, false ideas he has +got. They were driven into him at his most impressionable age; and until +his reason asserts itself no doubt he'll go on hating me. But that'll +all come right. I don't blame you for it." + +"You should blame me all the same," she said. "It's as much me in his +blood as his grandmother at his ear, that turned him to hate you. I +don't hate you now--or anybody, or anything. I've not got strength and +fight in me now to hate, or love either. But I did hate you and I was +full of hate before he was born, and the milk was curdled with hate that +fed him. Now I don't care what happens. I can't prevent the future of my +child from shaping itself. The time for preventing things and doing +things and fixing character and getting self-respect is over and past. +What he's done is the natural result of what was done to him. And +who'll blame him? Who'll blame me for being bad and indifferent--wicked +if you like? Life's made me so--hard--cold to others. But I should have +been different if I'd had love and common justice. So would he. It's +natural in him to hate you; and now the poor little wretch will get what +he deserves--same as his mother did before him, and so all's said. What +we deserved, that's all." + +"I don't think so. I'm very willing to fight for him if I can do him +good by fighting. The situation is unusual. You probably do not realise +what this means to me. Is there to be no finality in your resentment? +Honestly I get rather tired of it." + +"I got rather tired of it twelve years ago." + +"You're not prepared to help me, then, or make any suggestion--for the +child's sake?" + +"I'll not help, or hinder. I've been looking on so long now that I'm +only fit to look on. My child has everything against him, and he knows +it; and you can't save him from his fate any more than I can. So what's +the good of wasting time talking as though you could? Fate's +fate--beyond us." + +"We make our own fate. I may tell you that I should have been largely +influenced by you, Sabina. The question admits of different answers and +I recognise my responsibility. Some say that I must intervene now and +some say that I should not." + +"And the only one not asked to give an opinion is Abel himself. A child +is never asked about his own hopes and fears." + +"We know what his hopes were--to burn down the Mill. So we may take it +for the present he's not the best judge of what's good for him." + +"I've done my duty to him," she said, "and that's all I could do. I'm +very sorry for him, and what love I've got for him is the sort that's +akin to pity. It's contrary to reason that I should take any deep joy in +him, or worship the ground he walks on, like other mothers do towards +their children. For he stands there before me for ever as the sign and +mark of my own failure in life. But I don't think any less of him for +trying to destroy the works. I'd decided about him long ago." + +Raymond found nothing to the purpose in this illusive talk. It argued +curious impassivity in Sabina he thought, and he felt jarred to find the +conventional attitude of mother to son was not acknowledged by her. +Estelle had showed far more feeling, had taken a much more active part +in the troubles of Abel. Estelle had spared no pains in arguing for the +child and imploring Ironsyde to exhaust his credit on Abel's behalf. + +He told Sabina this and she explained it. + +"I dare say she has. A woman can see why, though doubtless you cannot. +It isn't because he's himself that she's active for him; and it isn't +because he's my child, either. It's because he's your child. Your +blood's sacred in her eyes you may be sure. She was a child herself when +you ruined me; she forgets all that. Why? Because ever since she's grown +to womanhood and intelligence to note what happens, you have been a +saint of virtue and the friend of the weak and the champion of the poor. +So, of course, she feels that such a great and good man's son only wants +his father's care to make him great and good too." + +"To think you can talk so after all these years, Sabina," he said. + +"How should I talk? What are the years to me? You never knew, or +understood, or respected the stuff I was made of; and you'll never +understand your child, either, or the stuff he's made of; and you can +tell the young woman that loves you so much, that she's wrong--as wrong +as can be. Nothing's gained by your having any hand in Abel's future. +You won't win him with sugarplums now, any more than you will with money +later on. He's made of different stuff from you--and better stuff and +rarer stuff. There's very little of you in him and very little of me, +either. He's himself, and the fineness that might have made him a useful +man under fair conditions, is turned to foulness now. Your child was +ruined in the making--not by me, but by you yourself. And such is his +mind that he knows it already. So be warned and let him alone." + +"If anything could make me agree with Miss Waldron, Sabina, it would be +what you tell me," he answered. "And if I can live to show you that you +are terribly wrong I shall be glad." + +"That you never will." + +"At least you'll do nothing to come between us?" + +"I never have. I was very careful not to do that. If he can look at you +as a friend presently, I shan't prevent it. I shan't warn him against +you--though I've warned you against him. The weak use poisonous weapons, +because they haven't got the strength to use weapons of might. That's +why he tried to burn down the Mill. He'll be stronger some day." + +"He's clever, I'm told, and if we can only interest him in some +intelligent business and find what his bent is, we may fill his mind to +good purpose. At any rate, I thank you for leaving me free to act. Now I +can decide what course to take. It was impossible until I heard what you +felt." + +She said no more and he left her to make up his mind. Doubt persisted +there, for he still suspected, that five years in a reformatory might be +better for Abel than anything else. Such an experience he felt would +develop his character, crush his malignant instincts and leave him only +too ready to accept his father as his friend; but against such a fate +for Abel, was his own relationship to the culprit, and the question +whether Raymond would not suffer very far-reaching censure if he made no +effort to come to the boy's rescue. Truest wisdom might hold a severe +course of correction very desirable; but sentiment and public opinion +would be likely to condemn him if he did nothing. People would say that +he had taken a harsh revenge on his own, erring child. + +He fumed at a situation intolerable and was finally moved to accept +Estelle's advice. From no considerations for Bridport, or Bridetown, did +she urge his active intervention. For Abel's sake she begged it and was +more insistent than before, when she heard of Sabina's indifference. + +"He's yours," she said. "You've been so splendidly patient. So do go on +being patient, and the result will be a fine character and a reward for +you. It isn't what people would say; but if he goes to a reformatory, +far from wanting you and your help when he comes out again, he'll know +in the future that you might have saved him from it and given him a +first-rate education among good, upright boys. But if he went to a +reformatory, he must meet all sorts of difficult boys, like himself, and +they wouldn't help him, and he'd come out harder than he went in." + +His heart yielded to her at last, even though his head still doubted, +for Raymond's attitude to Estelle had begun insensibly to change since +his accident in the cricket field. From that time he won a glimpse of +things that apparently others already knew. Sabina, in their recorded +conversation, had bluntly told him that Estelle loved him; and while the +man dismissed the idea as an absurdity, it was certain that from this +period he began to grow somewhat more sentimentally interested in her. +The interest developed very slowly, but this business of Abel brought +them closer together, for she haunted him during the days before the +child came to his trial, and when, perhaps for her sake as much as any +other reason, Raymond decided to undertake his son's defence, her +gratitude was great. + +He made it clear to her that she was responsible for his determination. + +"I've let you over-rule me, Estelle," he told her. "Don't forget it, +Chicky. And now that the boy will, I hope, be in my hands, you must +strengthen my hands all you can and help me to make him my friend." + +She promised thankfully. + +"Be sure I shall never, never forget," she said, "and I shall never be +happy till he knows what you really are, and what you wish him. You must +win him now. It's surely contrary to all natural instinct if you can't. +The mere fact that you can forgive him for what he tried to do, ought to +soften his heart." + +"I trust more to you than myself," he answered. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ADVERTISEMENT + + +Raymond Ironsyde had his way, and local justices, familiar with the +situation, were content not to commit Abel, but leave the boy in his +father's hands. He took all responsibility and, when the time came, sent +his son to a good boarding-school at Yeovil. Sabina so far met him that +the operation was conducted in her name, and since the case of Abel had +been kept out of local papers, his fellow scholars knew nothing of his +errors. But his difficulties of character were explained to those now +set over him, and they were warned that his moral education, while +attempted, had not so far been successful. + +Perhaps only one of those concerned much sympathised with Ironsyde in +his painful ordeal. Those who did not openly assert that he was reaping +what he had sown, were indifferent. Some, like Mr. Motyer, held the +incident a joke; one only possessed imagination sufficient to guess what +these public events must mean to the father of Abel. Indeed, Estelle +certainly suffered more for Raymond than he suffered for himself. She +pictured poignantly his secret thoughts and sorrows at this challenge, +and she could guess what it must be to have a child who hated you. In +her maiden mind, however, the man's emotions were exaggerated, and she +made the mistake of supposing that this grievous thing must be +dominating Raymond's existence, instead of merely vexing it. In truth he +suffered, but he was juster than Estelle, and, looking back, measured +his liabilities pretty accurately. He had none but himself to thank for +these inconveniences, and when he weighed them against the alternative +of marriage with Sabina, he counted them as bearable. Abel tried him +sorely, but he did not try him as permanent union with Abel's mother +must have tried him. Since he had renewed speech with her, his +conviction was increased that supreme disaster must have followed +marriage. Moreover, there began to rise a first glimmer of the new +situation already indicated. It had grown gradually and developed more +intensely during his days of enforced idleness in his aunt's house. From +that time, at any rate, he marked the change and saw his old regard and +respect for Estelle wakening into something greater. Her sympathy +quickened the new sentiments. He thought she was saner over Abel than +anybody, for she never became sentimental, or pretended that nothing had +happened which might not have been predicted. Her support was both human +and practical. It satisfied him and showed him her good sense. + +Miss Ironsyde had often reminded her nephew that he was the last of his +line, and urged him to take a wife and found a family. That Raymond +should marry seemed desirable to her; but she had not considered Estelle +as a wife for him. Had she done so, Jenny must have feared the girl too +young and too doubtful in opinions to promise complete success and +safety for the master of the Mill. He would marry a mature woman and a +steadfast Christian--so hoped Miss Ironsyde then. + +There came a day when Raymond called on Mr. Churchouse. Business brought +him and first he discussed the matter of an advertisement. + +"In these days," he said, "the competition grows keener than ever. And I +rather revel in it--as I do in the east wind. It's not pleasant at the +time, but, if you're healthy, it's a tonic." + +"And if you're not, it finds the weak places," added Mr. Churchouse. "No +man over sixty has much good to say of the east wind." + +"Well, the works are healthy enough and competition is merely a tonic to +us. We hold our own from year to year, and I've reached a conviction +that my policy of ruthlessly scrapping machinery the moment it's even on +the down grade, is the only sound principle and pays in the long run. +And now I want something new in the advertisement line--something not +mechanical at all, but human and interesting--calculated to attract, not +middlemen and retailers, but the person who buys our string and rope to +use it. In fact I want a little book about the romance of spinning, so +that people may look at a ball of string, or shoe-thread, or +fishing-line, intelligently, and realise about one hundredth part of all +that goes to its creation. Now you could do a thing like that to +perfection, Uncle Ernest, because you know the business inside out." + +Mr. Churchouse was much pleased. + +"An excellent idea--a brilliant idea, Raymond! We must insist on the +romance of spinning--the poetry." + +"I don't want it to be too flowery, but just interesting and direct. A +glimpse of the raw material growing, then the history of its +manufacture." + +Ernest's eyes sparkled. + +"From the beginning--from the very beginning," he said. "Pliny tells us +how the Romans used hemp for their sails at the end of the first +century. Is not the English word 'canvas' only 'cannabis' over again? +Herodotus speaks of the hempen robes of the Thracians as equal to linen +in fineness. And as for cordage, the ships of Syracuse in 200 B.C.--" + +He was interrupted. + +"That's all right, but what I rather fancy is the development of the +modern industry--here in Dorset." + +"Good--that would follow with all manner of modern instances." + +Mr. Churchouse drew a book from one of his shelves. + +"In Tudor times it was ordered by Act of Parliament that ropes should be +twisted and made nowhere else than here. Leland, that industrious +chronicler, came to grief in this matter, for he calls Bridport 'a fair, +large town,' where 'be made good daggers.' He shows the danger of taking +words too literally, since a 'Bridport dagger' is only another name for +the hangman's rope." + +"That's the sort of thing," said Raymond. "An article we can illustrate, +showing the hemp and flax growing in Russia and Italy, then all the +business of pulling, steeping and retting, drying and scutching. That +would be one chapter." + +"It shall be done. I see it--I see the whole thing--an elegant brochure +and well within my power. I am fired with the thought. There is only one +objection, however." + +"None in the world. I see you know just what I'm after--a little +pamphlet well illustrated." + +"The objection is that Estelle Waldron would do it a thousand times +better than I can. She has a more modern outlook and a more modern +touch. I feel confident that with me to supply the matter, she would +produce a much more attractive and readable work." + +Raymond considered. + +"I suppose she would. I hadn't thought of her." + +"Believe me, she would succeed to admiration. For your sake as well as +mine, she would produce a little masterpiece." + +"She'd do anything to please you, we all know; but I've no right to +bother her with details of business. Of course, if you do it, it is a +commission and you would name your honorarium, Uncle Ernest." + +The old man laughed. + +"We'll see--we'll see. Perhaps I should ask too high a price. But +Estelle will not be so grasping. And as to your right to bother her with +the details of business, anything she can do for you is a very great +privilege to her." + +"I believe I owe her more than a man can ever pay a woman, already." + +"Most men are insolvent to the other sex. Woman's noble tradition is to +give more than she gets, and let us off the reckoning, quite well +knowing it beyond our feeble powers to cry quits with her." + +Raymond was moved at this challenge, for in the light that Estelle threw +upon them, women interested him more to-day than they had for ten years. + +"One takes old Arthur's daughter for granted rather too much," he said; +"we always take good women for granted too much, I suppose. It's the +other sort who look out we shan't take them for granted, but at their +own valuation. Estelle--she's so many-sided--difficult, too, in some +things." + +"She is," admitted Ernest. "And just for this reason. She always argues +on her own basis of perfect ingenuous honesty. She assumes certain +rational foundations for all human relations; and if such bases really +existed, then it would be the best possible world, no doubt, and we +should all do to our neighbour as we would have him do to us. But the +Golden Rule doesn't actuate the bulk of mankind, unfortunately. Men and +women are not as good as Estelle thinks them." + +Raymond agreed eagerly. + +"You've hit it," he said. "It is just that. She's right in theory every +time; and if people were all as straight and altruistic and +high-principled as she is, there'd really be no more bother about morals +in the world. Native good sense would decide. Even as it is, the native +good sense of mankind is deciding certain questions and will presently +push the lawyers into codifying their mouldy laws, and then give reason +a chance to cleanse the whole archaic lump of them; but as it is, +Estelle--Take Marriage, for example. I agree with her all the way--in +theory. But when you come to view the situation in practice--you're up +against things as they are, and you never want people you love to be +martyrs, however noble the cause. Estelle says the law of sex +relationships is barbaric, and that marriage is being submitted to +increasing rational criticism, which the law and the Church both +conspire to ignore. She thinks that these barriers to progress ought to +be swept away, because they have a vicious effect on the institution and +degrade men and women. She's always got her eye on the future, and the +result is sometimes that she doesn't focus the present too exactly. It's +noble, but not practical." + +"The institution of marriage will last Estelle's time, I think," +declared Mr. Churchouse. + +"One hopes so heartily--for her own sake. One knows very well it's an +obsolescent sort of state, and can't bear the light of reason, and must +be reformed, so that intelligent people can enter it in a +self-respecting spirit; but if there is one institution that defies the +pioneers, it is marriage. The law's far too strong for us there. And I +don't want to see her misunderstood." + +They parted soon after this speech, and the older man, who had long +suspected the fact, now perceived that Raymond was beginning to think of +Estelle in new terms and elevating her to another place in his thoughts. + +It was the personal standpoint that challenged Ironsyde's mind. His old +sentiments and opinions respecting the marriage bond took a very +different colour before the vision of an Estelle united to himself. Thus +circumstances alter opinions, and the theories he had preached to Sabina +went down the wind when he thought of Estelle. The touchstone of love +vitiates as well as purifies thinking. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE HEMP BREAKER + + +Ironsyde attached increasing importance to the fullest possible +treatment of the raw material before actual spinning, and was not only +always on the lookout for the best hemps and flaxes grown, but spared no +pains to bring them to the Card and Spread Board as perfect as possible. + +To this end he established a Hemp Break, a Hemp Breaker and a Hemp +Softener. The first was a wooden press used to crush the stalks of +retted hemp straw, so that the harl came away and left the fibre clean. +The second shortened long hemp, that it might be more conveniently +hackled and drawn. The third served greatly to improve the spinning +quality of soft hemps by passing them through a system of callender +rollers. There were no hands available for the breakers and softeners, +so Raymond increased his staff. He also took over ten acres of the North +Hill House estate, ploughed up permanent grass, cleaned the ground with +a root crop, and then started to renew the vanishing industry of flax +growing. He visited Belgium for the purpose of mastering the modern +methods, found the soil of North Hill well suited to the crop, and was +soon deeply interested in the enterprise. He first hoped to ret his flax +in the Bride river, as he had seen it retted on the Lys, but was +dissuaded from making this trial and, instead, built a hot water +rettery. His experiments did not go unchallenged, and while the women +always applauded any change that took strain off their muscles and +improved the possibility of rest, the men were indifferent to this +advantage. Mr. Baggs even condemned it. + +He came to see the working of the Hemp Breaker, and perceived without +difficulty that its operations must directly tend to diminish his own +labour. + +"You'll pull tons less of solid weight in a day, Levi," said Best, "when +this gets going." + +"And why should I be asked to pull tons less of solid weight? What's the +matter with this?" + +He thrust out his right arm with hypertrophied muscles hard as steel. + +"It seems to me that a time's coming when the people won't want muscles +any more," he said. "Steam has lowered our strength standards as it is, +and presently labour will be called to do no more than press buttons in +the midst of a roaring hell of machines. The people won't want no more +strength than a daddy-long-legs; they that do the work will shrink away +till they're gristle and bones, like grasshoppers. And the next thing +will be that they'll not be wanted either, but all will be done by just +a handful of skilled creatures, that can work the machines from their +desks, as easy as the organist plays the organ in church. God help the +human frame then!" + +"We shall never arrive at that, be sure," answered Best; "for that's to +exalt the dumb material above the worker, and if things were reduced to +such a pitch of perfection all round, there would be no need of large +populations. But we're told to increase and multiply at the command of +God, so you needn't fear machines will ever lower our power to do so. If +that happened, it would be as much as to say God allowed us to produce +something to our own undoing." + +"He allows us to produce a fat lot of things to our own undoing," +answered the hackler. "Ain't Nature under God's direction?" + +"Without doubt, Levi." + +"And don't Nature tickle us to our own undoing morning, noon, and night? +Ain't she always at it--always tempting us to go too far along the road +of our particular weakness? And ain't laziness the particular weakness +of all women and most men? 'Tis pandering to laziness, these machines, +and for my part I wish Ironsyde would get a machine to hackle once and +for all. Then I'd leave him and go where they still put muscles above +machinery." + +"Funny you should say that," answered the foreman. "He's had the thought +of your retirement in his mind for a good bit now. Only consideration +for your feelings has prevented him dropping a hint. He always likes it +to come from us, rather than him, when anybody falls out." + +Mr. Baggs took this with tolerable calm. + +"I'll think of it next year," he said. "If I could get at him by a side +wind as to the size of the pension--" + +"That's hid with him. He'll follow his father's rule, you may be sure, +and reward you according to your deserts." + +"I don't expect that," said Mr. Baggs. "He don't know my deserts." + +"Well, I shouldn't be in any great hurry for your own sake," advised +Best. "You're well and hard, and can do your work as it should be done; +but you must remember you've got no resources outside your hackling +shop. Take you away from it and you're a blank. You never read a book, +or go out for a walk, or even till your allotment ground. All you do is +to sit at home and criticise other people. In fact, you're a very +ignorant old man, Baggs, and if you retired, you'd find life hang that +heavy on your hands you'd hardly know how to kill time between meals. +Then you'd get fat and eat too much and shorten your days. I've known it +to happen, where a man who uses his muscles gives up work before his +flesh fails him." + +Raymond Ironsyde joined them at this juncture and presently, when Levi +went back to his shop and the Hemp Breaker had been duly applauded, the +master took John Best aside and discussed a private matter. + +"The boy has come back for his holidays," he said; and Best, who knew +that when Raymond spoke of 'the boy' he meant Sabina's son, nodded. + +"I hope all goes well with him and that you hear good accounts," he +answered. + +"The reports are all much the same, term after term. He's said to have +plenty of ability, but no perseverance." + +"Think nothing of that," advised the foreman. "Schoolmasters expect boys +to persevere all round, which is more than you can ask of human nature. +The thing is to find out what gets hold of a boy and what he does +persevere at--then a sensible schoolmaster wouldn't make him waste half +his working hours at other things, for which the boy's mind has got no +place. Mechanics will be that boy's strong point, if I know anything +about boys. And I believe all the fearful wickedness that prompted him +to burn the place down is pretty well gone out of him by now." + +"I've left him severely alone," said Raymond. "I've said to myself that +not for three whole years will I approach him again. Meantime I don't +feel any too satisfied with the school. I fancy they are a bit soft +there. Private schools are like that. They daren't be too strict for +fear the children will complain and be taken away. But there are others. +I can move him if need be. And I'll ask you, Best, to keep your eye on +him these holidays, as far as you reasonably can, when he comes here. It +is understood he may. Try and get him to talk and see if he's got any +ideas." + +"He puts me a good bit in mind of what poor Mister Daniel was at that +age. He's keen about spinning, and if I was to let him mind a can now +and again he'd be very proud of himself." + +"Rum that he should like the works and hate me. Yes, he hates me all +right still, for Mister Churchouse has sounded him and finds that it is +so. It's in the young beggar's blood and there seems to be no operation +that will get it out." + +Best considered. + +"He'll come round. No doubt his schooling is making his mind larger, +and, presently, he'll feel the force of Christianity also; and that +should conquer the old Adam in him. By the same token the less he sees +of Levi, the better. Baggs is no teacher for youth, but puts his own +wrong and rebellious ideas into their heads, and they think it's fine to +be up against law and order. I'll always say 'twas half the fault of +Baggs the boy thought to burn us down; yet, of course, nobody was more +shocked and scandalised than Levi when he heard about it. And until the +boy's come over to your side, he'll do well not to listen to the +seditious old dog." + +"Keep him out of the hackling shop, then. Tell him he's not to go +there." + +Best shook his head. + +"The very thing to send him. He's like that. He'd smell a rat very quick +if he was ordered not to see Baggs. And then he'd haunt Baggs. I shan't +trust the boy a yard, you understand. You mustn't ask me to do that +after the past. But I'm hopeful that his feeling for the craft will lift +him up and make him straight. To a craftsman, his work is often more +powerful for salvation than his faith. In fact, his work is his faith; +and from the way things run in the blood, I reckon that Sabina's son +might rise into a spinner." + +"I don't want anything of that sort to happen, and I'm sure she +doesn't." + +"There's a hang-dog look in his eyes I'd like to see away," confessed +John. "He's been mismanaged, I reckon, and hasn't any sense of +righteousness yet. All for justice he is, so I hear he tells Mister +Churchouse. Many are who don't know the meaning of the word. I'll do +what I can when he comes here." + +"He's old for his age in some ways and young in others," explained +Raymond. "I feel nothing much can be done till he gets friendly with +me." + +"You're doing all any man could do." + +"At some cost too, John. You, at any rate, can understand what a +ghastly situation this is. There seems no end to it." + +"Consequences often bulk much bigger than causes," said Best. "In fact, +to our eyes, consequences do generally look a most unfair result of +causes; as a very small seed will often grow up into a very big tree. +You'll never find any man, or woman, satisfied with the price they're +called to pay for the privilege of being alive. And in this lad's case, +him being built contrary and not turned true--warped no doubt by the +accident of his career--you've got to pay a far heavier price than you +would have been called to pay if you'd been his lawful begetter. But +seeing the difficulty lies in the boy's nature alone, we'll hope that +time will cure it, when he's old enough to look ahead and see which side +his bread's buttered, if for no higher reason." + +Ironsyde left the Mill depressed; indeed, Abel's recurring holidays +always did depress him. As yet no hoped-for sign of reconciliation could +be chronicled. + +To-day, however, a gleam appeared to dawn, for on calling at 'The +Magnolias' to see Ernest Churchouse, Raymond was cheered by a promised +event which might contain possibilities. Estelle had scored a point and +got Abel to promise to come for a picnic. + +"He made a hard bargain though," she said. "He's to light a fire and +boil the kettle. And we are to stop at the old store in West Haven for +one good hour on the road home. I've agreed to the terms and shall give +him the happiest time I know how." + +"Is his mother going?" + +"Yes--he insists on that. And Sabina will come." + +"But don't hope too much of it," said Ernest. "I regard this as the thin +end of the wedge--no more than that. If Estelle can win his confidence, +then she may do great things; but she won't win it at one picnic. I know +him too well. He's a mass of contradictions. Some days most +communicative, other days not a syllable. Some days he seems to trust +you with his secrets, other days he is suspicious if you ask him the +simplest question. He's still a wild animal, who occasionally, for his +own convenience, pretends to be tame." + +"I shan't try to tame him," said Estelle. "I respect wild things a great +deal too much to show them the charms of being tame. But it's something +that he's coming, and if once he will let me be his chum in holidays, I +might bring him round to Ray." + +She planned the details of the picnic and invited Raymond to imagine +himself a boy again. This he did and suggested various additions to the +entertainment. + +"Did Sabina agree easily?" he asked, still returning to the event as +something very great and gratifying. + +"Not willingly, but gradually and cautiously." + +"She's softer and gentler than she was, however. I can assure you of +that," said Mr. Churchouse. + +"She thought it might be a trap at first," confessed Estelle. + +"A trap, Chicky! You to set a trap?" + +"No, you, Ray. She fancied you might mean to surprise the boy and bully +him." + +"How could she think so?" + +"I assured her that you'd never dream of any such thing. Of course I +promised, as she wished me to do so, that you wouldn't turn up at the +picnic. I reminded her how very particular you were, and how entirely +you leave it to Abel to come round and take the first step." + +"Be jolly careful what you say to him. He's a mass of prejudice, where +I'm concerned, and doesn't even know I'm educating him." + +"I'll keep off you," she promised. "In fact, I only intend to give him +as good a day as I can. I'm not going to bother about you, Ray; I'm +going to think of myself and do everything I can to get his friendship +on my own account. If I can do that for a start, I shall be satisfied." + +"And so shall I," declared Ernest. "Because it wouldn't stop at that. +If you succeed, then much may come of it. In my case, I can't lift his +guarded friendship for me into enthusiasm. He associates me with +learning to read and other painful preliminaries to life. Moreover, I +have tried to awaken his moral qualities and am regarded with the +gravest suspicion in consequence. But you come to him freshly and won't +try to teach him anything. Join him in his pleasure and add to it all +you can. There is nothing that wins young creatures quicker than sharing +their pleasures, if you can do so reasonably and are not removed so far +from them by age that any attempt would be ridiculous. Fifteen and +twenty-seven may quite well have a good deal in common still, if +twenty-seven is not too proud to confess it." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE PICNIC + + +For a long day Estelle devoted herself whole-heartedly to winning the +friendship of Abel Dinnett. Her chances of success were increased by an +accident, though it appeared at first that the misadventure would ruin +all. For when Estelle arrived at 'The Magnolias' in her pony carriage, +Sabina proved to be sick and quite unequal to the proposed day in the +air. + +Abel declined to go without his mother, but, after considerable +persuasion, allowed the prospect of pleasure to outweigh his distrust. + +Estelle promised to let him drive, and that privilege in itself proved a +temptation too great to resist. His mother's word finally convinced him, +and he drove an elderly pony so considerately that his hostess praised +him. + +"I see you are kind to dumb things," she said. "I am glad of that, for +they are very understanding and soon know who are their friends and who +are not." + +"If beasts treat me well," he answered, "then I treat them well. And if +they treated me badly, then I'd treat them badly." + +She did not argue about this; indeed, all that day her care was to amuse +him and hear his opinions without boring him if she could avoid doing +so. + +He remained shy at first and quiet. From time to time she was in a fair +way to break down his reserve; but he seemed to catch himself becoming +more friendly and, once or twice, after laughing at something, he +relapsed into long silence and looked at her from under his eyelids +suspiciously when he thought she was not looking at him. Thus she won, +only to lose what she had won, and when they reached the breezy cliffs +of Eype, Estelle reckoned that she stood towards him pretty much as she +stood at starting. But slowly, surely, inevitably, before such good +temper and tact he thawed a little. They tethered the pony, gave it a +nosebag and then spread their meal. Abel was quick and neat. She noticed +that his hands were like his mother's--finely tapered, suggestive of +art. But on that subject he seemed to have no ideas, and she found, +after trying various themes, that he cared not in the least for music, +or pictures, but certainly shared his father's interest in mechanics. + +Abel talked of the Mill--self-consciously at first; yet when he found +that Estelle ignored the past, and understood spinning, he forgot +himself entirely for a time under the spell of the subject. + +They compared notes, and she saw he was more familiar than she with +detail. Then, while still forgetting his listener, Abel remembered +himself and his talk of the Mill turned into a personal channel. There +is no more confidential thing, by fits and starts, than a shy child; and +just as Estelle felt the boy would never come any closer, or give her a +chance to help him, suddenly he startled her with the most unexpected +utterance. + +"You mightn't know it," he said, "but by justice and right I should have +the whole works for my very own when Mister Ironsyde died. Because he's +my father, though I daresay he pretends to everybody he isn't." + +"I'm very sure Mister Ironsyde doesn't feel anything but jolly kind and +friendly to you, Abel. He doesn't pretend he isn't your father. Why +should he? You know he's often offered to be friends, and he even +forgave you for trying to burn down the Mill. Surely that was a pretty +good sign he means to be friendly?" + +"I don't want his friendship, because he's not good to mother. He served +her very badly. I understand things a lot better than you might think." + +"Well, don't spoil your lunch," she said. "We'll talk afterwards. Are +you ready for another bottle of gingerbeer? I don't like this gingerbeer +out of glass bottles. I like it out of stone bottles." + +"So do I," he answered, instantly dropping his own wrongs. "But the +glass bottles have glass marbles in them, which you can use; and so it's +better to have them, because it doesn't matter so much about the taste +after it's drunk." + +She asked him concerning his work and he told her that he best liked +history. She asked why, and he gave a curious reason. + +"Because it tells you the truth, and you don't find good men always +scoring and bad men always coming to grief. In history, good men come to +grief sometimes and bad men score." + +"But you can't always be sure what is good and what is bad," she argued. + +"The people who write the histories don't worry you about that," he +answered, "but just tell you what happened. And sometimes you are jolly +glad when a beast gets murdered, or his throne is taken away from him; +and sometimes you are sorry when a brave chap comes to grief, even +though he may be bad." + +"Some historians are not fair, though," she said. "Some happen to feel +like you. They hate some people and some ideas, and always show them in +an unfriendly light. If you write history, you must be tremendously fair +and keep your own little whims out of it." + +After their meal Estelle smoked a cigarette, much to Abel's interest. + +"I never knew a girl could smoke," he said. + +"Why not? Would you like one? I don't suppose a cigarette once in a way +can hurt you." + +"I've smoked thousands," he told her. "And a pipe, too, for that matter. +I smoked a cigar once. I found it and smoked it right through." + +"Didn't it make you ill?" + +"Yes--fearfully; but I hid till I was all right again." + +He smoked a cigarette, and Estelle told him that his father was a great +smoker and very fond of a pipe. + +"But he wouldn't let you smoke, except now and again in holiday +times--not yet. Nobody ought to smoke till he's done growing." + +"What about you, then?" asked Abel. + +"I've done growing ages ago. I'm nearly twenty-eight." + +He looked at her and his eyes clouded. He entered a phase of reserve. +Then she, guessing how to enchant him, suggested the next step. + +"If you help me pack up now, we'll harness the pony and go down to West +Haven for a bit. I want to see the old stores I've heard such a lot +about. You must show them to me." + +"Yes--part. I know every inch of them, but I can't show you my own +secret den, though." + +"Do. I should love to see it." + +He shook his head. + +"No good asking," he said. "That's my greatest secret. You can't expect +me to tell you. Even mother doesn't know." + +"I won't ask, then. I've got a den, too, for that matter--in fact, two. +One on North Hill and one in our garden." + +"D'you know the lime-kiln on North Hill?" + +"Rather. The bee orchis grows thereabout." + +He thought for a moment. "If I showed you my den in the store, would you +swear to God never to tell?" + +"Yes, I'd swear faithfully not to." + +"Perhaps I will, then." + +But when presently they reached his haunt, he had changed his mood. She +did not remind him, left him to his devices and sat patiently outside +while he was hidden within. Occasionally his head popped out of +unexpected places aloft, then disappeared again. Once she heard a great +noise, followed by silence. She called to him and, after a pause, he +shouted down that he was all right. + +When an hour had passed she called out again to tell him to come back to +her. + +"We're going to Bridport to tea," she said. + +He came immediately and revealed a badly torn trouser leg. + +"I fell," he explained. "I fell through a rotten ceiling, and I've cut +my leg. When I was young the sight of blood made me go fainty, but I +laugh at it now." + +He pulled up his trousers and showed a badly barked shin. + +"We'll go to a chemist and get him to wash it, and I'll get a needle and +thread and sew it up," said Estelle. + +She condoled with him as they drove to Bridport, but he was impatient of +sympathy. + +"I don't mind pain," he said. "I've tried the Red Indian tests on myself +before to-day. Once I had to see a doctor after; but I didn't flinch +when I was doing it." + +A chemist dressed the wounded leg and presently they arrived at 'The +Seven Stars,' where the pony was stabled and tea taken in the garden. +Mrs. Legg provided a needle and thread and produced a very excellent +tea. + +Abel enjoyed the swing for some time, but would not let Estelle help +him. + +"I can swing myself," he said, "but I'll swing you afterwards." + +He did so until they were tired. Then he walked round the flower borders +and presently picked Estelle a rose. + +She thanked him very heartily and told him the names of the blossoms +which he did not know. + +Job came and talked to them for a time, and Estelle praised the garden, +while Abel listened. Then Mr. Legg turned to the boy. + +"Holidays round again, young man? I dare say we shall see you +sometimes, and, if you like flowers, you can always come in and have a +look." + +"I don't like flowers," said the boy. "I like fruit." + +He went back to the swing and Job asked after Mr. Waldron. + +Estelle reminded him that he had promised to come and see her garden +some day. + +"Be sure I shall, miss," he answered, "but, for the minute, work fastens +on me from my rising up to my going down." + +"However do you get through it all?" + +"Thanks to method. It's summed up in that. Without method, I should be a +lost man." + +"You ought to slack off," she said. "I'm sure that Nelly doesn't like to +see you work so hard." + +"She'd work hard too, but Nature and not her will shortens her great +powers. She grows into a mountain of flesh and her substance prevents +activity; but the mind is there unclouded. In my case the flesh doesn't +gain on me and work agrees with my system." + +"You're a very wonderful man," declared Estelle; "but no doubt plenty of +people tell you that." + +"Only by comparison," he explained. "The wonder is all summed up in the +one word 'method,' coupled with a good digestion and no strong drink. +I'd like to talk more on the subject, but I must be going." + +"And tell them to put in the pony. We must be going, too." + +On the way home Estelle tried to interest Abel in sport. She had been +very careful all day to keep Raymond off her lips, but now intentionally +she spoke of him. It was done with care and she only named him casually +in the course of general remarks. Thus she hoped that, in time, he would +allow her to mention his father without opposition. + +"I think you ought to play some games with your old friends at +Bridetown these holidays," she said. + +"I haven't any old friends there. I don't want friends. I never made +that fire you promised." + +"You shall make it next time we come out; and everybody wants friends. +You can't get on without friends. And the good of games is that you make +friends. I'm very keen on golf now, though I never thought I should like +sport. Did you play any cricket at school?" + +"Yes, but I don't care about it." + +"How did you play? You ought to be rather a dab at it." + +"I played very well and was in the second eleven. But I don't care about +it. It's all right at school, but there are better things to do in the +holidays." + +"If you're a good cricketer, you might get some matches. Your father is +a very good cricketer, and would have played for the county if he'd been +able to practise enough. And Mister Roberts at the mill is a splendid +player." + +His nervous face twitched and his instant passion ran into his whip +hand. He gave the astonished pony a lash and made it start across the +road, so that Estelle was nearly thrown from her seat. + +"Don't! Don't!" she said. "What's the matter?" + +But she knew. + +He showed his teeth. + +"I won't hear his name--I won't hear it. I hate him, I hate him. Take +the reins--I'll walk. You've spoilt everything now. I always wish he was +dead when I hear his name, and I wish he was dead this minute." + +"My dear Abel, I'm sorry. I didn't think you felt so bad as that about +him. He doesn't feel at all like that about you." + +"I hate him, I tell you, and I'm not the only one that hates him. And I +don't care what he feels about me. He's my greatest enemy on earth, and +people who understand have told me so, and I won't be beholden to him +for anything--and--and you can stick up for him till you're black in the +face for all I care. I know he's bad and I'll be his enemy always." + +"You're a little fool," she said calmly. "Let me drive and you can +listen to me now. If you listen to stupid, wicked people talking of your +father, then listen to me for a change. You don't know anything whatever +about him, because you won't give him a chance to talk to you himself. +If you once let him, you'd very soon stop all this nonsense." + +"You're bluffing," he said. "You think you'll get round me like that, +but you won't. You're only a girl. You don't know anything. It's men +tell me about my father. You think he's good, because you love him; but +he's bad, really--as bad as hell--as bad as hell." + +"What's he done then? I'm not bluffing, Abel. There's nothing to bluff +about. What's your father done to you? You must have some reason for +hating him?" + +"Yes, I have." + +"What is it, then?" + +"It's because the Mill ought to be mine when he dies--there!" + +She did not answer immediately. She had often thought the same thing. +Instinct told her that frankness must be the only course. Through +frankness he might still be won. + +He did not speak again after his last assertion, and presently she +answered in a manner to surprise him. Directness was natural to Estelle +and both her father and her friend, Mr. Churchouse, had fostered it. +People either deprecated or admired this quality of her talk, for +directness of speech is so rare that it never fails to appear +surprising. + +"I think you're right there, Abel. Perhaps the Mill ought to be yours +some day. Perhaps it will be. The things that ought to happen really do +sometimes." + +Then he surprised her in his turn. + +"I wouldn't take the Mill--not now. I'll never take anything from him. +It's too late now." + +She realised the futility of argument. + +"You're tired," she said, "and so am I. We'll talk about important +things again some day. Only don't--don't imagine people aren't your +friends. If you'd only think, you'd see how jolly kind people have been +to you over and over again. Didn't you ever wonder how you got off so +well after trying to burn down the works? You must have. Anyway, it +showed you'd got plenty of good friends, surely?" + +"It didn't matter to me. I'd have gone to prison. I don't care what they +do to me. They can't make me feel different." + +"Well, leave it. We've had a good day and you needn't quarrel with me, +at any rate." + +"I don't know that. You're his friend." + +"You surely don't want to quarrel with all his friends as well as him? +We are going to be friends, anyway, and have some more good times +together. I like you." + +"I thought I liked you," he said, "but you called me a little fool." + +"That's nothing. You were a little fool just now. We're all fools +sometimes. I've been a fool to-day, myself. You're a little fool to hate +anybody. What good does it do you to hate?" + +"It does do me good; and if I didn't hate him, I should hate myself," +the boy declared. + +"Well, it's better to hate yourself than somebody else. It's a good sign +I should think if we hate ourselves. We ought to hate ourselves more +than we do, because we know better than anybody else how hateful we can +be. Instead of that, we waste tons of energy hating other people, and +think there's nobody so fine and nice and interesting as we are +ourselves." + +"Mister Churchouse says the less we think about ourselves the better. +But you've got to if you've been ill-used." + +In the dusk twinkled out a glow-worm beside the hedge, and they stopped +while Abel picked it up. Gradually he grew calmer, and when they parted +he thanked her for her goodness to him. + +"It's been a proper day, all but the end," he said, "and I will like you +and be your friend. But I won't like my father and be his friend, +because he's bad and served mother and me badly. You may think I don't +understand such things, but I do. And I never will be beholden to him as +long as I live--never." + +He left her at the outer gate of his home and she drove on and +considered him rather hopelessly. He had some feeling for beauty on +which she had trusted to work, but it was slight. He was vain, very +sensitive, and disposed to be malignant. As yet reason had not come to +his rescue and his emotions, ill-directed, ran awry. He was evidently +unaware that his father had so far saved the situation for him. What +would he do when he knew it? + +Estelle felt the picnic not altogether a failure, yet saw little signs +of a situation more hopeful at present. + +"I can win him," she decided; "but it looks as though his father never +would." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RUNAWAY + + +Estelle was as good as her word and devoted not a few of his holidays to +the pleasure of Sabina's son. Unconsciously she hastened the progress of +other matters, for her resolute attempt to win Abel, at any cost of +patience and trouble, brought her still deeper into the hidden life and +ambitions of the boy's father. + +She was frank with Raymond, and when Abel had gone back to school and +made no sign, Estelle related her experiences. + +"He's sworn eternal friendship with me," she said, "but it's not a +friendship that extends to you, or anybody else. He's very narrow. He +concentrates in a terrifying way and wants everything. He told me that +he hated me to have any other friends but him. It took him a long time +to decide about me; but now he has decided. He extracts terrific oaths +of secrecy and then imparts his secrets. Before giving the oaths, I +always tell him I shan't keep them if he's going to confide anything +wicked; but his secrets are harmless enough. The last was a wonderful +hiding-place. He spends many hours in it. I nearly broke my neck getting +there. That's how far we've reached these holidays; and after next term +I shall try again." + +"He's got a heart, if one could only reach it, I suppose." + +"A very hot heart. I shall try to extend his sympathies when he comes +back." + +Her intention added further fuel to the fire burning in Raymond's own +thoughts. He saw both danger and hope in the situation, as it might +develop from this point. The time was drawing nearer when he meant to +ask Estelle to marry him, and since he looked now at life and all its +relations from this standpoint, he began to consider his son therefrom. + +On the whole he was cheered by Estelle's achievements and argued well of +them. The danger he set aside, and chose rather to reflect on the hope. +With Abel back at school again and his mother in a more placid temper, +there came a moment of peace. Ironsyde was able to forget them and did +so thankfully, while he concentrated on the task before him. He felt +very doubtful, both of Estelle's response and her father's view. The +girl herself, however, was all that mattered, for Waldron would most +surely approve her choice whatever it might be. Arthur had of late, +however, been giving it as his opinion that his daughter would not +marry. He had decided that she was not the marrying sort, and told +Raymond as much. + +"The married state's too limited for her: her energies are too +tremendous to leave any time for being a wife. To bottle Estelle down to +a husband and children is impossible. They wouldn't be enough for her +intellect." + +This had been said some time before, when unconscious of Ironsyde's +growing emotions; but of late he had suspected them and was, therefore, +more guarded in his prophecies. + +Then came a shock, which delayed progress, for Abel thrust himself to +the front of his mind again. Estelle corresponded with her new friend, +and the boy had heard from her that in future he must thank his father +for his education. She felt that it was time he knew this, and hoped +that he would now be sane enough to let the fact influence him. It did, +but not as she had expected. Instead there came the news that Abel had +been expelled. He deliberately refused to proceed with his work, and, +when challenged, explained that he would learn no more at his father's +expense. + +Nothing moved him, and Estelle's well-meant but ill-judged action +merely served to terminate Abel's education for good and all. + +The boy was rapidly becoming a curse to his father. Puritans, who knew +the story, welcomed its development and greeted each phase with +religious enthusiasm; but others felt the situation to be growing +absurd. Raymond himself so regarded it, and when Abel returned home +again he insisted on seeing him. + +"You can be present if you wish to be," he told Sabina, but she +expressed no such desire. Her attitude was modified of late, and, +largely under the influence of Estelle, she began to see the futility of +this life-enmity declared against Raymond by her son. Of old she had +thought it natural, and while not supporting it had made no effort to +crush it out of him. Now she perceived that it could come to nothing and +only breed bitterness. She had, therefore, begun to tone her +indifference and withhold the little bitter speeches that only fortified +Abel's hate. She had even argued with him--lamely enough--and advised +him not to persist in a dislike of his father that could not serve him +in after life. + +But he had continued to rejoice in his hatred. While Estelle hoped with +Sabina to break down his obstinacy, he actually looked forward to the +time when Estelle would hate his enemy also. He had been sorry to see +his mother weakening and even blaming him for his opinions. + +But now he was faced with his father under conditions from which there +was no escape. The meeting took place in Mr. Churchouse's study and Abel +was called to listen, whether he would or no. Raymond knew that the +child understood the situation and he did not mince words. He kept his +temper and exhausted his arguments. + +"Abel," he said, "you've got to heed me now, and whatever you may feel, +you must use your self-control and your brains. I'm speaking entirely +for your sake and I'm only concerned for your future. If you would use +your reason, it would show you that the things you have done and are +doing can't hurt me; they can only hurt yourself; and what is the good +of hurting yourself, because you don't like me? If you had burned down +the works, the insurance offices would have paid me back all the money +they were worth, and the only people to suffer would have been the men +and women you threw out of work. So, when you tried to hurt me, you were +only hurting other people and yourself. Boys who do that sort of thing +are called embryo criminals, and that's what they are. But for me and +the great kindness and humanity of other men--my friends on the +magistrates' bench--you would have been sent to a reformatory after that +affair; but your fellow creatures forgave you and were very good to me +also, and let you go free on consideration that I would be responsible +for you. Then I sent you to a good school, where nothing was known +against you. Now you have been expelled from that school, because you +won't work, or go on with your education. And your reason is that I am +paying for your education and you won't accept anything at my hands. + +"But think what precisely this means. It doesn't hurt me in the least. +As far as I am concerned, it makes not a shadow of difference. I have no +secrets about things. Everybody knows the situation, and everybody knows +I recognise my obligations where you are concerned and wish to be a good +father to you. Therefore, if you refuse to let me be, nobody is hurt but +yourself, because none can take my place. You don't injure my credit; +you only lose your own. The past was past, and people had begun to +forget what you did two years ago. Now you've reminded them by this +folly, and I tell you that you are too old to be so foolish. There is no +reason why you should not lead a dignified, honourable and useful life. +You have far better opportunities than thousands and thousands of boys, +and far better and more powerful friends than ninety-nine boys out of a +hundred. + +"Then why fling away your chances and be impossible and useless and an +enemy to society, when society only wants to be your friend? What is the +good? What do you gain? And what do I lose? You're not hurting me; but +you're hurting and distressing your mother. You're old enough to +understand all this, and if your mother can feel as I know she feels and +ask you to consider your own future and look forward in a sensible +spirit, instead of looking back in a senseless one, then surely, for her +sake alone, you ought to be prepared to meet me and turn over a new +leaf. + +"For you won't tire out my patience, or break my heart. I never know +when I'm beat, and since my wish is only your good, neither you, nor +anybody, will choke me off it. I ask you now to promise that, if I send +you to another school, you'll work hard and complete your education and +qualify yourself for a useful place in the world afterwards. That's what +you've got to do, and I hope you see it. Then your future will be my +affair, for, as my son, I shall be glad and willing to help you on in +whatever course of life you may choose. + +"So that's the position. You see I've given you the credit of being a +sane and reasonable being, and I want you to decide as a sane and +reasonable being. You can go on hating me as much as you please; but +don't go on queering your own pitch and distressing your mother and +making your future dark and difficult, when it should be bright and +easy. Promise me that you'll go back to a new school and work your +hardest to atone for this nonsense and I'll take your word for it. And I +don't ask for my own sake--always remember that. I ask you for your own +sake and your mother's." + +With bent head the boy scowled up under his eyebrows during this +harangue. He answered immediately Raymond had finished and revealed +passion. + +"And what, if I say 'no'?" + +"I hope you won't be so foolish." + +"I do say 'no' then--a thousand times I say it. Because if you bring me +up, you get all the credit. You shan't get credit from me. And I'll +bring myself up without any help from you. I know I'm different from +other boys, because you didn't marry my mother. And that's a fearful +wrong to her, and you're not going to get out of that by anything I can +do. You're wicked and cowardly to my mother, and she's Mister +Churchouse's servant, instead of being your wife and having servants of +her own, and I'm a poor woman's son instead of being a rich man's son, +as I ought to be. All that's been told me by them who know it. And +you're a bad man, and I hate you, and I shall always hate you as long as +you live. And I'll never be beholden to you for anything, because my +life is no good now, and my mother's life is no good neither. And if I +thought she was taking a penny of your money, I'd--" + +His temper upset him and he burst into tears. The emotion only served to +increase his anger. + +"I'm crying for hate," he said. "Hate, hate, hate!" + +Raymond looked at the boy curiously. + +"Poor little chap, I wish to God I could make you see sense. You've got +the substance and are shouting for the shadow, which you can never have. +You talk like a man, so I'll answer you like a man and advise you not to +listen to the evil tongue of those who bear no kindly thought to me, or +you either. What is the sense of all this hate? Granted wrong things +happened, how are you helping to right the wrong? Where is the sense of +this blind enmity against me? I can't call back the past, any more than +you can call back the tears you have just shed. Then why waste nervous +energy and strength on all this silly hate?" + +"Because it makes me better and stronger to hate you. It makes me a man +quicker to hate you. You say I talk like a man--that's because I hate +like a man." + +"You talk like a very silly man, and if you grow up into a man hating +me, you'll grow up a bitter, twisted sort of man--no good to anybody. A +man with a grievance is only a nuisance to his neighbours; and seeing +what your grievance is, and that I am ready and willing to do everything +in a father's power to lessen that grievance and retrieve the mistakes +of the past--remembering, too, that everybody knows my good +intentions--you'll really get none to care for your troubles. Instead, +all sensible people will tell you that they are largely of your own +making." + +"The more you talk, the more I hate you," said the boy. "If I never +heard your voice again and never saw your face again, still I'd always +hate you. I don't hate anything else in the world but you. I wouldn't +spare a bit of hate for anything but you. I won't be your son +now--never." + +"Well, run away then. You'll live to be sorry for feeling and speaking +so, Abel. I won't trouble you again. Next time we meet, I hope you will +come to me." + +The boy departed and the man considered. It seemed that harm irreparable +was wrought, and a reconciliation, that might have been easy in +Abel's childhood, when he was too young to appreciate their connection, +had now become impossible, since he had grown old enough to understand +it. He would not be Raymond's son. He declined the filial +relationship--doubtless prompted thereto from his earliest days, first +on one admonition, then at another. The leaven had been mixed with his +blood by his mother, in his infant mind by his grandmother, in his soul +by fellow men as he grew towards adolescence. + +Yet from Sabina herself the poison had almost passed away. In the light +of these new difficulties she grew anxious, and began to realise how +fatally Abel's possession was standing in his own light. She loved him, +but not passionately. He would soon be sixteen and her point of view +changed. She had listened long to Estelle and began to understand that, +whatever dark memories and errors belonged to Raymond Ironsyde's past, +he designed nothing but generous goodness for their son in the future. + +After the meeting with Abel, Raymond saw Sabina and described what had +occurred; but she could only express her regrets. She declared herself +more hopeful than he and promised to reason with the boy to the best of +her power. + +"I've never stood against you with him, and I've never stood for you +with him. I've kept out of it and not influenced for or against," she +said. "But now I'll do more than that; I'll try and influence him for +you." + +Raymond was obliged. + +"I shall be very grateful to you if you can. If there's any human being +who carries weight with him, you do. Such blistering frankness--such +crooked, lightning looks of hate--fairly frighten me. I had no idea any +young creature could feel so much." + +"He's going through what I went through, I suppose," she said. "I don't +want to hurt you, or vex you any more. I'm changed now and tired of +quarrelling with things that can't be altered. When we find the world's +sympathy for us is dead, then it's wiser to accept the situation and +cease to run about trying to wake it up again. So I'll try to show him +what the world will be for the likes of him if he hasn't got you behind +him." + +"Do--and don't do it bitterly. You can't talk for two minutes about the +past without getting bitter--unconsciously, quite unconsciously, Sabina. +And your unconscious bitterness hurts me far more than it hurts you. But +don't be bitter with him, or show there's another side of your feelings +about it. Keep that for me, if you must. My shoulders are broad enough +to bear it. He is brimming with acid as it is. Sweeten his mind if it is +in your power. That's the only way of salvation, and the only chance of +bringing him and me together." + +She promised to attempt it. + +"And if I'm bitter still," she said, "it is largely unconscious, as you +say. You can't get the taste of trouble out of your mouth very easily +after you've been deluged with it and nigh drowned in it, as I have. +It's only an echo and won't reach his ear, though it may reach yours." + +"Thank you, Sabina. Do what you can," he said, and left her, glad to get +away from the subject and back to his own greater interests. + +He heard nothing more for a few days, then came the news that Abel had +disappeared. By night he had vanished and search failed to find him. + +Sabina could only state what had gone before his departure. She had +spoken with him on Raymond's behalf and urged him to reconsider his +attitude and behave sensibly and worthily. And he, answering nothing, +had gone to bed as usual; but when she called him next morning, no reply +came and she found that he had ridden away on his bicycle in the night. +The country was hunted, but without result, and not for three days did +his mother learn what had become of Abel. Then, in reply to police +notices of his disappearance, there came a letter from a Devonshire +dairy farm, twenty miles to the west of Bridport. The boy had appeared +there early in the morning and begged for some breakfast. Then he asked +for something to do. He was now working on trial for a week, but whether +giving satisfaction or no they did not learn. + +His mother went to see him and found him well pleased with himself and +proud of what he had accomplished. He explained to her that he had now +taken his life into his own hands and was not going to look to anybody +in future but himself. + +The farmer reported him civil spoken, willing to learn, and quick to +please. Indeed, Abel had never before won such a good character. + +She left him there happy and content, and took no immediate steps to +bring the boy home. + +It was decided that a conference should presently be held of those +interested in Abel. + +"Since he is safe and cheerful and doing honest work, you need not be in +distress about him at present, Sabina," said Ernest Churchouse; "but +Raymond Ironsyde has no intention that the boy should miss an adequate +education, and wishes him to be at school for a couple of years yet, if +possible. It is decided that we knock our heads together on the subject +presently. We'll meet and try to hit upon a sensible course. Meantime +this glimpse of reality and hard work at Knapp Farm will do him good. He +may show talent in an agricultural direction. In any case, you can feel +sure that whatever tastes he develops, short of buccaneering, or highway +robbery, will be gratified." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE MOTOR CAR + + +Raymond Ironsyde felt somewhat impatient of the conference to consider +the situation of his son. But since he had no authority and Sabina was +anxious to do something, he agreed to consult Mr. Churchouse. + +They met at 'The Magnolias,' where Miss Ironsyde joined them; but her +old energy and forcible opinions had faded. She did little more than +listen. + +Ironsyde came first and spoke to Ernest in a mood somewhat despondent. +They were alone at the time, for Sabina did not join them until Estelle +came. + +"Is there nothing in paternity?" asked Raymond. "Isn't nature all +powerful and blood thicker than water? What is it that over-rides the +natural relationship and poisons him against me? Isn't a good father a +good father?" + +"So much is implied in this case," answered the elder. "He's old enough +now to understand what it means to be a natural child. Doubtless the +disabilities they labour under have been explained to him. That fact is +what poisons his mind, as you say, and makes him hate the blood in his +veins. We've got to get over that and find antidotes for the poison, if +we can." + +"I'm beginning to doubt if we ever shall, Uncle Ernest." + +Sabina and Estelle entered at this moment and heard Mr. Churchouse make +answer. + +"Be sure it can be done. Every year makes it more certain, because with +increase of reasoning power he'll see the absurdity of this attitude. It +is no good to him to continue your enemy." + +"Increase of reason cuts both ways. It shows him his grievances, as +well as what will pay him best in the future. He's faced with a clash of +reason." + +"Reason I grant springs from different inspirations," admitted Ernest. +"There's the reason of the heart and the reason of the head--yes, the +heart has its reasons, too. And though the head may not appreciate them, +they exercise their weight and often conquer." + +Soon there came a carriage from Bridport and Miss Ironsyde joined them. + +"Oh! I'm glad to see a fire," she said, and sat close beside it in an +easy chair. + +Then Raymond spoke. + +"It is good of you all to come and lend a hand over this difficult +matter. I appreciate it, and specially I thank Sabina for letting us +consider her son's welfare. She knows that we all want to befriend him +and that we all are his friends. It's rather difficult for me to say +much; but if you can show me how to do anything practical and establish +Abel's position and win his goodwill, at any cost to myself, I shall +thank you. I've done what I could, but I confess this finds me beaten +for the moment. You'd better say what you all think, and see if you +agree." + +The talk that followed was inconsequent and rambling. For a considerable +time it led nowhere. Miss Ironsyde was taciturn. It occupied all her +energies to conceal the fact that she was suffering a good deal of +physical pain. She made no original suggestions. Churchouse, according +to his wont, generalised; but it was through a generalisation that they +approached something definite. + +"He has yet to learn that we cannot live to ourselves, or design life's +pattern single-handed," declared Ernest. "Life, in fact, is rather like +a blind man weaving a basket: we never see our work, and we have to +trust others for the material. And if we better realised how blind we +were, we should welcome and invite criticism more freely than we do." + +"No man makes his own life--I've come to see that," admitted Raymond. +"The design seems to depend much on your fellow creatures; your triumph +or failure is largely the work of others. But it depends on your own +judgment to the extent that you can choose what fellow creatures shall +help you." + +Estelle approved this. + +"And if we could only show Abel that, and make him feel this +determination to be independent of everybody is a mistake. But he told +me once, most reasonably, that he didn't mind depending on those who +were good to him. He said he would trust them." + +"Trust's everything. It centres on that. Can I get his trust, or can't +I?" + +"Not for the present, Ray. I expect his mind is in a turmoil over this +running away. It's all my fault and I take the blame. Until he can think +calmly you'll never get any power over him. The thing is to fill his +mind full with something else." + +"Find out if you can what's in his thoughts," advised Sabina. "We say +this and that and the other, and plan what must be done, but I judge the +first person to ask for an opinion is Abel himself. When people are +talking about the young, the last thought in their minds is what the +young are thinking themselves. They never get asked what's in their +minds, yet, if we knew, it might make all the difference." + +"Very sound, Sabina," admitted Mr. Churchouse; "and you should know +what's in his mind if anybody does." + +"I should no doubt, but I don't. I've never been in the boy's secrets, +or I might have been more to him. But that's not to say nobody could win +them. Any clever boy getting on for sixteen years should have plenty of +ideas, and if you could find them, it might save a lot of trouble." + +She turned to Estelle as she spoke. + +"He's often told me things," said Estelle, "and he's often been going to +tell me others and stopped--not because he thought I'd laugh at him; +but because he was doubtful of me. But he knows I can keep secrets now." + +"He must be treated as an adult," decided Ernest. "Sabina is perfectly +right. We must give him credit for more sense than he has yet +discovered, and appeal directly to his pride. I think there are great +possibilities about him if he can only be brought to face them. His +ruling passion must be discovered. One has marked a love of mystery in +him and a wonderful power of make-believe. These are precious promises, +rightly guided. They point to imagination and originality. He may have +the makings of an artist. Without exaggeration, I should say he had an +artist's temperament without being an artist; but art is an elastic +term. It must mean creative instinct, however, and he has shown that. It +has so far taken the shape of a will to create disaster; but why should +we not lead his will into another channel and help it to create +something worthy?" + +"He's fond of machinery," said Sabina, "and very clever with his hands." + +"Could your child be anything but clever with his hands, Sabina?" said +Estelle. + +"Or mine be anything but fond of machinery?" asked Raymond. + +He meant no harm, but this blunt and rather brutal claim to fatherhood +made Sabina flinch. It was natural that she never could school herself +to accept the situation in open conversation without reserve, and all +but Ironsyde himself appreciated the silence which fell upon her. His +speech, indeed, showed lack of sensibility, yet it could hardly be +blamed, since only through acceptation of realities might any hopeful +action be taken. But the harm was done and the delicate poise of the +situation between Abel's parents upset. Sabina said no more, and in the +momentary silence that followed she rose and left them. + +"What clumsy fools even nice men can be," sighed Miss Ironsyde, and +Churchouse spoke. + +"Leave Sabina to me," he said. "I'll comfort her when you've gone. +There is a certain ingrained stupidity from which no man escapes in the +presence of women. They may, or may not, conceal their feelings; but we +all unconsciously bruise and wound them. Sabina did not conceal hers. +She is quick in mind as well as body. What matters is that she knows +exceedingly well we are all on her side and all valuable friends for the +lad. Now let us return to the point. I think with Estelle that Abel may +have something of the artist in him. He drew exceedingly well as a +child. You can see his pictures in Sabina's room. Such a gift if +developed might waken a sense of power." + +"If he knew great things were within his reach, he would not disdain the +means to reach them," said Miss Ironsyde. "I do think if the boy felt +his own possibilities more--if we could waken ambition--he would grow +larger-minded. Hate always runs counter to our interests in the long +run, because it wastes our energy and, if people only knew it, revenge +is really not sweet, but exceedingly bitter." + +"I suggest this," said Ironsyde: "that Uncle Ernest and Estelle visit +the boy--not in any spirit of weakness, or with any concessions, or +attempts to change his mind; but simply to learn his mind. Sabina was +right there. We'll approach him as we should any other intelligent +being, and invite his opinion, and see if it be reasonable, or +unreasonable. And if it is reasonable, then I ought to be able to serve +him, if he'll let me do so." + +"I shall certainly do what you wish," agreed Ernest. "Estelle and I will +form a deputation to this difficult customer and endeavour to find out +what his lordship really proposes and desires. Then, if we can prove to +him that he must look to his fellow creatures to advance his welfare; if +we can succeed in showing him that not even the youngest of us can stand +alone, perhaps we shall achieve something." + +"And if he won't let me help, perhaps he'll let you, or Estelle, or Aunt +Jenny. Agree if he makes any possible stipulation. It doesn't matter a +button where he supposes help is coming from: the thing is that he +should not know it is really coming from me." + +"I hope we may succeed without craft of that sort, Raymond," declared +Mr. Churchouse; "but I shall not hesitate to employ the wisdom of the +serpent--if the olive branch of the dove fails to meet the situation. I +trust, however, more to Estelle than myself. She is nearer Abel in point +of time, and it is very difficult to bridge a great gulf of years. We +old men talk in another language than the young use, and the scenery +that fills their eyes--why, it has already vanished beneath our +horizons. Narrowing vision too often begets narrowing sympathies and we +depress youth as much as youth puzzles us." + +"True, Ernest," said Miss Ironsyde. "Have you noticed how a natural +instinct makes the young long to escape from the presence of age? The +young breathe more freely out of sight of grey heads." + +"And the grey heads survive their absence without difficulty," confessed +Mr. Churchouse. "But we are a tonic to each other. They help us to see, +Jenny, and we must help them to feel." + +"Abel shall help us to see his point of view, and we'll help him to feel +who his best friends are," promised Estelle. + +Raymond had astonished Bridport and staggered Bridetown with a wondrous +invention. The automobile was born, and since it appealed very directly +to him, he had acquired one of the first of the new vehicles at some +cost, and not only did he engage a skilled mechanic to drive it, but +himself devoted time and pains to mastering the machine. He believed in +it very stoutly, and held that in time to come it must bulk as a most +important industrial factor. Already he predicted motor traction on a +large scale, while yet the invention was little more than a new toy for +the wealthy. + +And now this car served a useful purpose and Mr. Churchouse, in some +fear and trembling, ventured a first ride. Estelle accompanied him and +together they drove through the pleasant lands where Dorset meets Devon, +to Knapp Farm under Knapp Copse, midway between Colyton and Ottery St. +Mary, on a streamlet tributary of the Sid. + +Mr. Churchouse was amazed and bewildered at this new experience; +Estelle, who had already enjoyed some long rides, supported him, lulled +his anxieties and saw that he kept warm. + +Soon they sighted the ridge which gave Knapp its name, and presently met +Abel, who knew that they were coming. He stood on the tumuli at the top +of the knoll and awaited them with interest. His master, from first +enthusiasms, now spoke indifferently of him, declared him an average +boy, and cared not whether they took him, or left him. As for Abel +himself, he slighted both Estelle and Mr. Churchouse at first, and +appeared for a time quite oblivious to their approaches. He was only +interested in the car, which stood drawn up in an open shed at the side +of the farmyard. He concentrated here, desired the company of the driver +alone, and could with difficulty be drawn away to listen to the +travellers and declare his own ambitions. + +He was, however, not sorry to see Estelle, and when, presently, they +lured him away from the motor, he talked to them. He bragged about his +achievement in running away and finding work; but he was not satisfied +with the work itself. + +"It was only to see if I could live in the world on my own," he said, +"and now I know I can. Nobody's got any hold on me now, because if you +can earn your food and clothes, you're free of everybody. I don't tell +them here, but I could work twice as hard and do twice as much if it was +worth while; only it isn't." + +"If you get wages, you ought to earn them," said Estelle. + +"I do," he explained. "I get a shilling a day and my grub, and I earn +all that. But, of course, I'm not going to be a farmer. I'm just +learning about the land--then I'm going. Nobody's clever here. But I +like taking it easy and being my own master." + +"You oughtn't to take it easy at your time of life, Abel," declared +Estelle. "You oughtn't to leave school yet, and I very much hope you'll +go back." + +"Never," he said. "I couldn't stop there after I knew he was paying for +it. Or anywhere else. I'm not going to thank him for anything." + +"But you stand in the light of your own usefulness," she explained. "The +thing is for a boy to do all in his power to make himself a useful man, +and by coming here and doing ploughboy's work, when you might be +learning and increasing your own value in the world, you are being an +idiot, Abel. If you let your father educate you, then, in the future, +you can pay him back splendidly and with interest for all he has done +for you. There's no obligation then--simply a fair bargain." + +His face hardened and he frowned. + +"I may pay him for all he's done for me, whether or no," he answered. +"Anyway, I don't want any more book learning. I'm a man very nearly, and +a lot cleverer, as it is, than the other men here. I shall stop here for +a bit. I want to be let alone and I will be let alone." + +"Not at all," declared Mr. Churchouse. "You're going back on yourself, +Abel, and if you stop here, hoeing turnips and what not, you'll soon +find a great disaster happening to you. You will indeed--just the very +thing you don't want to happen. You pride yourself on being clever. +Well, cleverness can't stand still, you know. You go back, or forward. +Here, you'll go back and get as slow-witted as other ploughboys. You +think you won't, but you will. The mud on your boots will work up into +your mind, and instead of being full of great ideas for the future, +you'll gradually forget all about them. And that would be a disgrace to +you." + +Abel showed himself rather impressed with this peril. + +"I shall read books," he said. + +"Where will you get them?" asked Estelle. "Besides, after long days +working out of doors, you'll be much too tired to read books, or go on +with your studies. I know, because I've tried it." + +"Quies was the god of rest in ancient Rome," proceeded Mr. Churchouse, +"but he was no god for youth. The elderly turned their weary bodies to +his shrine and decorated his altars--not the young. But for you, Abel, +there are radiant goddesses, and their names are Stimula and Strenua. To +them you must pay suit and service, and your motto should be 'Able and +Willing.'" + +"Of course," cried Estelle; "but instead of that, you ask to be let +alone, to turn slowly and surely into a ploughboy! Why, the harm is +already beginning! And you may be quite sure that nobody who cares for +you is going to see you turn into a ploughboy." + +They produced some lunch presently and Abel enjoyed the good fare. For a +time they pressed him no more, but when the meal was taken, let him show +them places of interest. While Estelle visited the farm with him and +heard all about his work, Mr. Churchouse discussed the boy with his +master. Nothing could then be settled, and it was understood that Abel +should stop at Knapp until the farmer heard more concerning him. + +Estelle advanced the good cause very substantially, however, and felt +sanguine of the future; for alone with her, Abel confessed that farming +gave him no pleasure and that his ambition was set on higher things. + +"I shall be an engineer some day," he said. "Presently I shall go where +there is machinery, and begin at the bottom and work up to the top. I +know a lot more about it than you might think, as it is." + +"I know you do," she said. "And there's nothing your mother would like +better than engineering for you. Besides, a boy begins that when he's +young, and I believe you ought to be in the shops soon." + +"I shall be soon. Very likely the next thing you hear about me will be +that I have disappeared again. Then I shall turn up in a works +somewhere. Because you needn't think I'm going to be a ploughboy. I +shouldn't get level with my father by being a ploughboy." + +"Your father would be delighted for you to get level with him and know +as much as he does," she answered, pretending to mistake his meaning. +"If you said you wanted to know as much about machinery and machines in +general as he does, then he would very soon set to work to help you on." + +Abel considered. + +"I won't take any help from him; but I'll do this--to suit myself, not +him. I'd do it so as I could be near mother and could look after her. +Because, when Mister Churchouse dies, I'll have to look after her." + +"You needn't be anxious about your mother, Abel. She's got plenty of +friends." + +"Her friends don't count if they're his friends, because you can't be my +mother's friend and his friend, too. But I'll go into the spinning Mill, +and be like anybody else, and work for wages--just the same wages as any +other boy going in. That won't be thanking him for anything." + +Estelle could hardly hide her satisfaction at this unexpected +concession. She dared not show her pleasure for fear that Abel would see +it and draw back. + +"Then you could live with mother and Mister Churchouse," she said. "It +would be tremendously interesting for you. I wonder if you would begin +with Roberts at the lathes, or Cogle at the engines?" + +"I don't know. Before I ran away, Nicholas Roberts wanted somebody to +help him turning. I've turned sometimes. I'd begin like that and rise to +better things." + +She was careful not to mention his father again. + +"I believe Mister Roberts would like to have you in his shop very much. +Sarah, his wife, hopes that her son will be a lathe-worker some day, but +he's too young to go yet." + +"He'll never be any good at machinery," declared Abel. "I know him. He's +all for the sea." + +They took their leave presently, after Ernest had heard the boy's offer. +He, too, was careful, but applauded the suggestion and assured Abel he +would be very welcome at his old home. + +"I like you, you know; in fact, as a rule, we have got on very well +together. I believe you'll make an engineer some day if you remember the +Roman goddesses. To be ambitious is the most hopeful thing we can wish +for youth. Always be ambitious--that's the first essential for success." + +But the old man surprised Estelle by failing to share her delight at +Abel's decision. She for her part felt that the grand difficulty was +passed, and that once in his father's Mill, the boy must sooner or later +come to reason, if only by the round of self-interest; but Mr. +Churchouse reminded her that another had to be reckoned with. + +"A most delicate situation would be created in that case," he said. "Of +course I can't pretend to say how Raymond will regard it. He may see it +with your eyes. He sees so many things with your eyes--more and more, in +fact--that I hope he will; but you mustn't be very disappointed if he +does not. This cannot look to him as it does to you, or even to me. His +point of view may reject Abel's suggestion altogether for various +reasons; and Sabina, too, will very likely feel it couldn't happen +without awakening a great many painful memories." + +"She advised us to consult Abel and hear what he thought." + +"We have. We return with the great man's ultimatum. But I'm afraid it +doesn't follow that his ultimatum will be accepted. Even if Sabina felt +she could endure such an arrangement, it is doubtful in the extreme +whether Raymond will. Indeed I'll go so far as to prophesy that he +won't." + +Estelle saw that she had been over-sanguine. + +"There's one bright side, however," he continued. "We have got something +definite out of the boy and should now be able to help him largely in +spite of himself. Every day he lives, he'll become more impressed with +the necessity for knowledge, and if, for the moment, he declines any +alternative, he'll soon come round to one. He knows already that he +can't stop at Knapp, so this great and perilous adventure of the +automobile has been successful--though how successful we cannot tell +yet." + +He knew, however, before the day was done, for Sabina felt very +definitely on the subject. Yet her attitude was curious: she held it not +necessary to express an opinion. + +Mr. Churchouse came home very cold, and while she attended to his needs, +brought him hot drink and lighted a fire, Sabina listened. + +"The boy is exceedingly well," he said. "I never saw his eye so bright, +or his skin so clear and brown. But a farmer he won't be for anybody. Of +course, one never thought he would." + +When she had heard Abel's idea, she answered without delay. + +"It's a thousand pities he's set his heart on that, because it won't +happen. What I think doesn't matter, of course, but for once you'll find +his father is of a mind with me. He'll not suffer such an arrangement +for a moment. It's bringing the trouble too near. He doesn't want his +skeleton walking out of the cupboard into the Mill, and whatever +happens, that won't." + +She was right enough, for when Raymond heard all that Estelle could tell +him, he decided instantly against any such arrangement. + +"Impossible," he said. "One needn't trouble even to argue about it. But +that he would like to be an engineer is quite healthy. He shall be; and +he shall begin at the beginning and have every advantage possible--not +his way, but mine. I argue ultimate success from this. It eases my +mind." + +"All the same, if you don't do anything, he'll only run away again," +said Estelle, who was disappointed. + +"He won't run far. Let him stop where he is for a few months, till he's +heartily sick of it and ready to listen to sense. Then perhaps I'll go +over and see him myself. You've done great things, Estelle. I feel more +sanguine than I have ever felt about him. I wish I could do what he +wants; but that's impossible his way. However, I'll do it in my own. +Sense is beginning in him, and that is the great and hopeful discovery +you've made." + +"I'm ever so glad you're pleased about it," she said. "He loved the +motor car much better than the sight of us. Yet he was glad to see us +too. He's really a very human boy, you know, Ray." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +CRITICISM + + +Upon a Sunday afternoon, Sarah Roberts and her husband were drinking tea +at 'The Seven Stars.' They sat in Nelly Legg's private room, and by some +accident all took rather a gloomy view of life. + +As for Nelly, she had been recently weighed, and despite drastic new +treatment, was found to have put on two pounds in a month. + +"Lord knows where it'll end," she said. "You can't go on getting heavier +and heavier for ever more. Even a vegetable marrow, and such like +things, reach their limit; and if they can it's hard that a creature +with an immortal soul have got to go growing larger and larger, to her +own misery and her husband's grief. To be smothered with your own fat is +a proper cruel end I call it; and I haven't deserved it; and it shakes +my faith in an all-wise God, to feel myself turning into a useless +mountain of flesh. Worse than useless in fact, because them that can't +work themselves are certain sure to make work for others. Which I do." + +"I never knew anything so aggravating, I'm sure," assented Nicholas; +"but so far as I can see, if life don't fret you from within, it frets +you from without. It can't leave you alone to go on your way in a +dignified manner. It's always intruding, so to speak. In fact, life +comes between us and our living, if you understand me, and sometimes for +my part I can look on to the end of it with a lot of resignation." + +Sentiments so unusual from her husband startled Mrs. Roberts as well as +her aunt. + +"Lor, Nicholas! What's the matter with you?" asked Sarah. + +"It ain't often I grumble," he answered, "and if anybody's better at +taking the rough with the smooth than me, I'd like to see him; but there +are times when nature craves for a bit of pudding, and gets sick to +death of its daily meal of bread and cheese. I speak in a parable, +however, because I don't mean the body but the mind. Your body bothers +you, Missis Legg, as well it may; but your mind, thanks to your husband, +is pretty peaceful year in year out. In my case, my body calls for no +attention. Thin as a rake I am and so shall continue. But the tissue is +good, and no man is made of better quality stuff. It's my mind that +turns in upon itself and gives me a pang now and again. And the higher +the nature of the mind, the worse its troubles. In fact the more you can +feel, the more you are made to feel; and what the mind is built to +endure, that, seemingly, it will be called to endure." + +But Nelly had no patience with the philosophy of Mr. Roberts. + +"You're so windy when you've got anything on your chest," she said. "You +keep talking and don't get any forwarder. What's the fuss about now?" + +"You've been listening to Baggs, I expect," suggested the wife of +Nicholas. "Baggs has got the boot at last and leaves at Christmas, and +his pension don't please him, so he's fairly bubbling over with +verjuice. I should hope you'd got too much sense to listen to him, +Nick." + +"So should I. He's no more than the winter wind in a hedge at any time," +answered Mr. Roberts. "Baggs gets attended to same as a wasp gets +attended to--because of his sting. All bad-tempered people win a lot +more attention and have their way far quicker than us easy and amiable +ones. Why, we know, of course. Human nature's awful cowardly at bottom +and will always choose the easiest way to escape the threatened wrath of +a bad temper. In fact, fear makes the world go round, not love, as +silly people pretend. In my case I feel much like Sabina Dinnett, who +was talking about life not a week ago in the triangle under the sycamore +tree. And she said, 'Those who do understand don't care, and those who +don't understand, don't matter'--so there you are--one's left all +alone." + +"I'm sure you ain't--more's Sabina. She's got lots of friends, and +you've got your dear wife and children," said Nelly. + +"I have; but the mind sometimes takes a flight above one's family. It's +summed up in a word: there's nothing so damned unpleasant as being took +for granted, and that's what's the matter with me." + +"Not in your home, you ain't," declared Sarah. "No good, sensible wife +takes her husband for granted. He's always made a bit of a fuss over +under his own roof." + +"That's true; but in my business I am. To see people--I'll name no +names--to see other people purred over, and then to find your own craft +treated as just a commonplace of Nature, no more wonderful than the +leaves on a bush--beastly, I call it." + +Mr. Legg had joined them and he admitted the force of the argument. + +"We're very inclined to put our own job higher in the order of the +universe than will other people," he said; "and better men than you have +hungered for a bit of notice and a pat on the back and never won it. But +time covers that trouble. I grant, all the same, that it's a bit galling +when we find the world turns a cold shoulder to our best." + +"It's a human weakness, Nicholas, to want to be patted," said Nelly, and +her husband agreed. + +"It is. We share it with dogs," he declared. "But the world in general +is too busy to pat us. I remember in my green youth being very proud of +myself once and pointing to a lot of pewter in a tub, that I'd worked up +till it looked like silver; and I took some credit, and an old man in +the bar said that scouring pots was nothing more than scouring pots, and +that any other honest fool could have done them just as well as me." + +"That's all right and I don't pretend my work on the lathe is a national +asset, and I don't pretend I ought to have a statue for doing it," +answered Nicholas; "but what I do say is that I am greater than my lathe +and ought to get more attention according. I am a man and not a +cog-wheel, and when Ironsyde puts cog-wheels above men and gives a dumb +machine greater praise than the mechanic who works it--then it's wrong +and I don't like it." + +"He can't make any such mistake as that," argued Job. "It's rumoured +he's going to stand for Parliament at the next General Election, so his +business is with men, not machines, and he'll very soon find all about +the human side of politics." + +"He'll be human enough till he gets in. They always are. They'll stoop +to anything till they're elected," said Mrs. Legg, "but once there, the +case is often altered with 'em." + +"I want to be recognised as a man," continued Roberts, "and Ironsyde +don't do it. He isn't the only human being with a soul and a future. And +now, if he's for Parliament, I dare say he'll become more indifferent +than ever. He may be a machine himself, with no feelings beyond work; +but other people are built different." + +"A man like him ought to try and do the things himself," suggested +Sarah. "If employers had to put in a day laying the stricks on the +spreadboard, or turning the rollers on the lathe, or hackling, or +spinning, they'd very soon get a respect for what the workers do. In +fact, if labour had its way, it ought to make capital taste what labour +means, and get out of bed when labour gets out, and do what labour does, +and eat what labour eats. Then capital would begin to know it's born." + +"It never will happen," persisted Nicholas. "Nothing opens the eyes of +the blind, or makes the man who can buy oysters, eat winkles. The gulf +is fixed between us and it won't be crossed. If he goes into Parliament, +or stops out, he'll be himself still, and look on us doubtfully and wish +in his soul that we were made of copper and filled with steam." + +"A master must follow his people out of the works into their homes if +he's worth a rap," declared Job. "Your aunt always did so with her +maidens, and I do so with the men. And it's our place to remember that +men and women are far different from metal and steam. You can't turn the +power off the workers and think they're going to be all right till you +turn it on again. They go on all the time--same as the masters and +mistresses do. They sleep and eat and rest; they want their bit of human +interest, and bit of fun, and pinch of hope to salt the working day. And +as for Raymond Ironsyde, I've seen his career unfolding since he was a +boy and marked him in bad moments and seen his weakness; which secrets +were safe enough with me, for I'd always a great feeling for the young. +And I say that he's good as gold at heart and his faults only come from +a lack of power to put himself in another man's place. He could never +look very much farther than his own place in the world and the road that +led to it. He did wrong, like all of us, and his faults found him out; +which they don't always do. But he's the sort that takes years and years +to ripen. He's not yet at his best you'll find; but he's a learner, and +he may learn a great many useful things if he goes into Parliament--if +it's only what to avoid." + +"There's one thing that will do him a darned sight more good than going +into Parliament, and that's getting married," said Sarah. "In fact, a +few of us, that can see further through a milestone than some people, +believe it's in sight." + +"Miss Waldron, of course?" asked Nelly. + +"Yes--her. And when that happens, she'll make of Mister Ironsyde a much +more understanding man than going into Parliament will. He's fair and +just--not one of us, bar Levi Baggs, ever said he wasn't that--but she's +more--she's just our lady, and our good is her good, and what she's done +for us would fill a book; and if she could work on him to look at us +through her eyes, then none of us, that deserved it, as we all do, would +lose our good word." + +"What do you say to that, Job?" asked Mrs. Legg. + +"I say nothing better could happen," he answered. "But don't feel too +hopeful. The things that promise best to the human eye ain't the things +that Providence very often performs. To speak in a religious spirit and +without feeling, there's no doubt that Providence does take a delight in +turning down the obvious things and bringing us up against the doubtful +and difficult and unexpected ones. That's why there's such a gulf +between story books and real life. The story books that I used to read +in my youth, always turned out just as a man of good will and good heart +and kindly spirit would wish them to do; but you'd be straining civility +to Providence and telling a lie if you pretended real life does. +Therefore I say, hope it may happen; but don't bet on it." + +Job finished his tea and bustled away. + +"The wisdom of the man!" said Nicholas. "He's the most comforting person +I know, because he don't pretend. There's some think that everything +that happens to us is our own fault, and they drive you silly with their +bleating. Job knows it ain't so." + +"A far-seeing man," admitted Nelly, "and a great reader of the signs of +the times. People used to think he was a simple sort--God forgive me, I +did myself; but I know better now. All through that business with poor +Richard Gurd, Job understood our characters and bided his time and knew +that the crash must come between us. He's told me since that he never +really feared Gurd, because he looked ahead and felt that two such +natures as mine and Richard's were never meant to join in matrimony. +Looking back, I see Job's every move and the brain behind it. Talk about +Parliament! If Bridport was to send Legg there, they'd be sending one +that's ten times wiser than Raymond Ironsyde--and ten times deeper. In +fact, the nation's very ill served by most that go there. They are the +showy, rich, noisy sort, who want to bulk in the public eye without +working for it--ciphers who do what they're told, and don't understand +the inner nature of what they're doing more than a hoss in a plough. But +men like Job, though not so noisy, would get to the root, and use their +own judgment, and rise superior to party politics and the pitiful need +to shout with your side, right or wrong." + +"Miss Waldron is very wishful for him to get in, and she says he's got +good ideas," replied Nicholas. + +"If so, he has to thank her for them," added Sarah. + +"And I hope," continued Nicholas, "that if he does get in, he'll be +suffered to make a speech, and his words will fall stone dead on the +ears of the members, and his schemes will fail. Then he'll know what it +is to be flouted and to see his best feats win not a friendly sign." + +"Electors are a lot too easy going in my opinion," said Nelly. "I'm old +enough to have seen their foolish ways in my time, and find, over and +over again, that they are mostly gulls to be took with words. They never +ask what a man's record is and turn over the pages of his past. They +never trouble about what he's done, or how he's made his money, or where +he stands in public report. It isn't what he has done, but what he's +going to do. Yet you can better judge of a man from his past than his +promises, and measure, in the light of his record, whether he's going to +the House of Commons for patriotic, decent reasons, or for mean ones. +And never you vote for a lawyer, Nicholas Roberts. 'Tis a golden rule +with Job that never, under any manner of circumstances, will he help to +get a lawyer into Parliament. They stand in the way of all progress but +their own; they suck our blood in every affair of life; they baffle all +honest thinking with their cunning, and look at right and wrong only +from the point of expediency. Job says there ought to be a law against +lawyers going in at all. But catch them making it! In fact, we're in +their clutches more than the fly in the web, because they make the laws; +and they'll never make any laws to limit their own powers over us, +though always quick enough to increase them. Job says that the only +bright side to a revolution would be that the law and the lawyers would +be swept into the street orderly bin together. Then we'd start clean and +free, and try to keep clean and free." + +Upon this subject Mrs. Legg always found plenty to say. Indeed she +continued to open her mind till they grew weary. + +"We must be moving if we're going to church," said Sarah. "I think we'd +better go and pick up a bit of charity to our neighbour--Sunday and +all." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE OFFER OF MARRIAGE + + +Raymond met Estelle on his way from the works and together they walked +home. Here and there in the cottage doorways sat women braiding. Among +them was Sally Groves--now grown too old and slow to tend the +'Card'--and accident willed that she should make an opening for thoughts +that now filled Ironsyde's mind. They stopped, for Sally was an old +acquaintance of both, and Estelle valued the big woman for her resolute +character and shrewd sense. Now Sally, on strength of long-standing +friendship, grew personal. It was an ancient joke to chaff Miss Groves +about marriage, but to-day, when Raymond asked if the net she made was +to catch a husband, Sally retorted with spirit. + +"All very fine for you two to be poking fun at me," she said. "But what +about you? It's time you made up your minds I'm sure, for everybody +knows you're in love with each other--though you don't yourselves +seemingly." + +"Give us a lead, Sally," suggested Raymond; but she shook her head. + +"You're old enough to know your own business," she answered; "but don't +you go lecturing other people about matrimony while you're a bachelor +yourself--else you'll get the worst of it--as you have now." + +They left her and laughed together. + +"Yet I've heard you say she was the most sensible woman that ever worked +in the mills," argued Raymond. + +Estelle made no direct reply, but spoke of Sally in the past at one of +her parties, when the staff took holiday and spent a day at Weymouth. + +Their conversation faded before they reached North Hill House, and then, +as they entered the drive, Raymond reminded Estelle of a time long +vanished and an expedition taken when she was a child. + +"Talking of good things, d'you remember our walk to Chilcombe in the +year one? Or, to be more exact, when you were in short frocks." + +"I remember well enough. How my chatter must have bored you." + +"You never bored me in your life, Chicky. In fact, you always seem to +have been a part of my life since I began to live. That event happened +soon after our walk, if I remember rightly. You really seem as much a +part of my life as my right hand, Estelle." + +"Well, your right hand can't bore you, certainly." + +"Some of the things that it has done have bored me. But let's go to +Chilcombe again--not in the car--but just tramp it as we did before. How +often have you been there since we went?" + +She considered. + +"Twice, I think. My friends there left ten years ago and my girl friend +died. I haven't been there since I grew up." + +"Well, come this afternoon." + +"It's going to rain, Ray." + +"Since when did rain frighten you?" + +"I'd love to come." + +"A walk will do me good," he said. "I'm getting jolly lazy." + +"So father thinks. He hates motors--says they are going to make the next +generation flabby and good-for-nothing." + +They started presently under low grey clouds, but the sky was not grey +for them and the weather of their minds made them forget the poor light +and sad south-west wind laden with rain. It held off until they had +reached Chilcombe chapel, entered the little place of prayer and stood +together before the ancient reredos. The golden-brown wood made a patch +of brightness in the little building. They were looking at it and +recalling Estelle's description of it in the past, when the storm broke +and the rain beat on the white glass in the windows above them. + +"How tiny it's all grown," said Estelle. "Surely everything has shrunk?" + +They had the chapel to themselves and, sitting beside her in a pew, +Raymond asked her to marry him. Thunder had wakened in the sky, and the +glare of lightning touched their faces now and then. But they only +remembered that afterwards. + +"Sally Groves was no more than half right," he said, "so her fame for +wisdom is shaken. She told us we didn't know we loved one another, +Estelle. But I know I love you well enough, and I've been shaking in my +shoes to tell you so for months and months. I knew I was getting too old +every minute and yet couldn't say the word. But I must say it now at any +cost. Chicky, I love you--dearly, dearly I love you--because I'm calm +and steady, that doesn't mean I'm not in a blaze inside. I never thought +of it even while you were growing up. But a time came when I did begin +to think of it like the deuce; and when once I did, the thought towered +up like the effreet let out of the bottle--that story you loved when you +were small. But my only fear and dread is that you've always been +accustomed to think of me as so much older than you are. If you once get +an idea into your head about a person's age, you can't get it out again. +At least, I can't; so I'm afraid you'll regard me as quite out of the +question for a husband. If that's so, I'll begin over again." + +Her eyes were round and her mouth a little open. She did not blink when +the lightning flashed. + +"But--but--" she said. + +"If I'm not too old, there are no 'buts' left," he declared firmly. "Ten +years is no great matter after all, and from the point of view of +brains, I'm an infant beside you. Then say 'yes,' my darling--say 'yes' +to me." + +"I wonder--I wonder, Ray?" + +"Haven't you ever guessed what I felt?" + +"Yes, in a vague way. At least I knew there was something growing up +between us." + +"It was love, my beautiful dear." + +She smiled at him doubtfully. The colour had come back to her face, but +she did not respond when he lifted his arms to her. + +"Are you sure--can you be sure, Ray? It's so different,--so shattering. +It seems to smash up all the past into little bits and begin the world +all over again--for you and me. It's such a near thing. I've seen the +married people and wondered about it. You might get so weary of always +having me so close." + +"I want you close--closer and closer. I want you as the best part of +myself--to make me happier first and, because happier, more useful in +the world. I want you at the helm of my life--to steer me, Chicky. What +couldn't we do together! It's selfish--? it's one-sided, I know that. I +get everything--you only get me. But I'll try and rise to the occasion. +I worship you, and no woman ever had a more devout worshipper. I feel +that your father wouldn't be very mad with me. But it's for you to +decide, nothing else matters either way." + +"I love to think you care for me so much," she said. "And I care for +you, Ray, and have cared for you--more than either of us know. Yes, I +have. Sally Groves knew somehow. I should like to say 'yes' this moment; +but I can't. I know I shall say it presently; but I'm not going to say +it till I've thought a great many thoughts and looked into the future +and considered all this means--for you as well as for me. It's life or +death really, for both of us, and the more certain sure we are before, +the happier we should be afterwards, I expect." + +"I'm sure enough, Estelle. I've been sure enough for many a long day. I +know the very hour I began to be sure." + +"I think I am too; but I can't say 'yes' and mean 'yes' for the present. +I've got to thresh out a lot of things. I dare say they'd be absurd to +you; but they're not to me." + +"Can I help you?" + +"I don't know. You can, I expect. I shall come to you again to throw +light on the difficult points." + +"How long are you going to take?" + +"How can I tell? But I _can_ all the same, I'm not going to take long." + +"Say you love me--do say that." + +"I should have told you if I didn't." + +"That's all right, but not so blessed as hearing you say with your own +lips you do. Say it--say it, Chicky. I won't take advantage of it. I +only want to hear it. Then I'll leave you in peace to think your +thoughts." + +"I do love you," she said gently and steadily. "It can be nothing +smaller than that. You are a very great part of my life--the greatest. I +know that, because when you go away life is at evening, and when you +come back again life is at morning. Let me have a little time, Ray--only +a very little. Then I'll decide." + +"I hope your wisdom will let you follow your will, then, and not forbid +the banns." + +"You mustn't think it cold and horrid of me." + +"You couldn't be cold and horrid, my sweet Estelle. We're neither of us +capable of being cold, or horrid. We are not babies. I don't blame you a +bit for wanting to think about it. I only blame myself. If I was all I +might have been, you wouldn't want to think about it." + +This challenge shook her, but did not change her. + +"Nobody's all they might be, Ray; but many people are a great deal more +than they might be. That's what makes you love people best, I think--to +see how brave and patient and splendid men and women can be. Life's so +difficult even for the luckiest of us; but it isn't the luckiest who are +the pluckiest generally--is it? I've had such a lot more than my share +of luck already. So have you--at least people think so. But nobody knows +one's luck really except oneself." + +"It's the things that are going to happen will make our good luck," he +said. "You'll find men are seldom satisfied with the past, whatever +women may be. God knows I'm not." + +"You were always one of my two heroes when I was a child; and father was +the other. He is still my hero--and so are you, Ray." + +"A pretty poor hero. I wouldn't pretend that to my dog. I only claim to +have something worth while in me that you might bring out--raw material +for you to turn into the finished article." + +She laughed to hear this. + +"Come--come--you're not as modest as all that. You're much too clever +even to pretend any such thing. Women don't turn strong men into +finished articles. At best, perhaps, they can only decorate a little of +the outside." + +"You laugh," he answered, "but you know better. If you love me, be +ambitious for me. That's the most helpful love a woman can give a +man--to see his capabilities better than he can, and fire him on the +best and biggest he can do, and help him to grasp his opportunities." + +"So it is." + +"You've got to decide whether it's worth while marrying me, Chicky. You +do love me, as I love you--because you can't help it. But you can help +marrying me. You've got to think of your own show as well as mine. I +quite understand that. You must be yourself and make your own mark, and +take advantage of all the big new chances offered to the rising +generation of women. I love you a great deal too much to want to lessen +you, or drift you into a back-water. It's just a question whether my +work, and the Mill, and so on, give you the chance you want--if, working +together, we can each help on the other. You could certainly help me +hugely and you know it; but whether I could help you--that's what you've +got to think about I suppose." + +"Yes, I suppose it is, Ray." + +"Your eyes say 'yes' already, and they're terrible true eyes." + +But she only lowered them and neither spoke any more for a little while. +The worst of the storm had passed, and its riot and splash gave place to +a fine drizzle as the night began to close in. + +They started for home and, both content to think their own thoughts, +trudged side by side. For Raymond's part, he knew the woman too well to +suffer any doubt of the issue and he was happy. For he felt that she was +quietly happy too, and if instincts had brought grave doubts, or +prompted her to deny him, she would not have been happy. + +Estelle did not miss the romance from his offer of marriage. She had +dreamed of man's love in her poetry-reading days, but under the new +phase and the practical bent, developed by a general enthusiasm for her +kind, personal emotions were not paramount. There could be but little +sex in her affection for Raymond: she had lived too near him for that. +Indeed, she had grown up beside him, and the days before he came to +dwell at North Hill seemed vague and misty. Thus his challenge came as +an experience both less and greater than love. It was less, in that no +such challenge can be so urgent and so mighty as the call of hungry +hearts to each other; it was greater, because the interests involved +were built on abiding principles. They arrested her intellectual +ambitions and pointed to a sphere of usefulness beyond her unaided +power. What must have made his prosaic offer flat in the ear of an +amorous woman, edged it for her. He had dwelt on the aspect of their +union that was likely most to attract her. + +There was a pure personal side where love came in and made her heart +beat warmly enough; but, higher than that, she saw herself of living +value to Raymond and helping him just where he stood most in need of +help. She believed that they might well prove the complement of each +other in those duties, disciplines, and obligations to which life had +called them. + +That night she went closely, searchingly over old ground again from the +new point of vision. What had always been interesting to her, became now +vital, since these characteristics belonged to the man who wanted to wed +her. She tried to be remorseless and cruel that she might be kind. But +the palette of thought was only set with pleasant colours. She had been +intellectually in love with him for a long time, and he had offered +problems which made her love him for the immense interest they gave her. +Now came additional stimulus in the knowledge that he loved her well +enough to share his life, his hopes, and his ambitions with her. + +She believed they might be wedded in very earnest. He was masterful and +possessed self-assurance; but what man can lead and control without +these qualities? His self-assurance was less than his self-control, and +his instinct for self-assertion had nearly always been counted by a kind +heart. It seemed to her that she had never known a man who balanced +reason and feeling more judicially, or better preserved a mean between +them. + +She had found that men could differentiate in a way beyond woman's power +and be unsociable if their duty demanded it. But to be unsociable is not +to be unsocial. Raymond took long views, and if his old, genial and +jolly attitude to life was a thing of the past, there had been +substituted for it a wiser understanding and saner recognition of the +useful and useless. Men did take longer views than women--so Estelle +decided: and there Raymond would help her; but the all-important matter +that night was to satisfy herself how much she could help him. In this +reverie she found such warmth and light as set her glowing before dawn, +for she built up the spiritual picture of Raymond, came very close to +its ultimate realities, quickened by the new inspiration, and found that +it should be well within her power to serve him generously. She took no +credit to herself, but recognized a happy accident of character. + +There were weak spots in all masculine armour, that only a woman could +make strong, and by a good chance she felt that her particular womanhood +might serve this essential turn for Raymond's manhood. To strengthen her +own man's weak spots--surely that was the crown and completion of any +wedded life for a woman. To check, to supplement, to enrich: that he +would surely do for her; and she hoped to deal as faithfully with him. + +She was not clear-sighted here, for love, if it be love at all, must +bring the rosy veil with it and dim the seeing of the brightest eyes. +While the fact that she had grown up with Raymond made her view clear +enough in some directions, in others it served, of course, to dim +judgment. She credited him with greater intellect than he possessed, and +dreamed that higher achievements were in his power than was the truth. +But there existed a mean, below her dream yet above his present +ambition, that it was certainly possible with her incentive he might +attain. She might make him more sympathetic and so more synthetic also, +and show him how his own industry embraced industrial problems at +large--how it could not be taken by itself, but must hold its place only +by favour of its progress, and command respect only as it represented +the worthiest relation between capital and labour. Thus, from the +personal interest of his work, she would lift him to measure the +world-wide needs of all workers. And then, in time to come, he would +forget the personal before the more splendid demands of the universal. +The trend of machinery was towards tyranny; he must never lose sight of +that, or let the material threaten the spiritual. Private life, as well +as public life, was open to the tyranny of the machine; and there, too, +it would be her joyful privilege to fight beside him for added beauty, +added liberty, not only in their own home, but all homes wherein they +had power to increase comfort and therefore happiness. The sensitiveness +of women should be linked to the driving force of men, as the safety +valve to the engine. Thus, in a simile surely destined to delight him, +she summed her intentions and desires. + +She had often wondered what must be essential to the fullest employment +of her energies and the best and purest use of her thinking; and now she +saw that marriage answered the question--not marriage in the abstract, +but just marriage with this man. He, of all she had known, was the one +with whom she felt best endowed to mingle and merge, so that their +united forces should be poured to help the world and water with increase +the modest territory through which they must flow. + +She turned to go to sleep at last, yet dearly longed to tell Raymond and +amaze her father with the great tidings. + +An impulse prompted her to leave her lover not a moment more in doubt. +She rose, therefore, and descended to his room, which opened beside his +private study on the ground floor. The hour was nearly four on an autumn +morning. She listened, heard him move restlessly and knew that he did +not sleep. He struck a match and lighted a cigarette, for he often +smoked at night. + +Then she knocked at the door. + +"Who the devil's that?" he shouted. + +"I," she said, opening the door an inch and talking softly. "Stop where +you are and stop worrying and go to sleep. I'm going to marry you, Ray, +and I'm happier than ever I was before in all my life." + +Then she shut the door and fled away. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +SABINA AND ABEL + + +Now was Raymond Ironsyde too busy to think any thought but one, and +though distractions crowded down on the hour, he set them aside so far +as it was possible. His betrothal very completely dominated his life and +the new relation banished the old attitude between him and Estelle. The +commonplace existence, as of sister and brother, seemed to perish +suddenly, and in its place, as a butterfly from a chrysalis, there +reigned the emotional days of prelude to marriage. The mere force of the +situation inspired them and they grew as loverly as any boy and girl. It +was no make-believe that led them to follow the immemorial way and glory +only in the companionship of each other; they felt the desire, and love +that had awakened so tardily and moved in a manner so desultory, seemed +concerned to make up for lost time. + +Arthur Waldron was not so greatly astonished as they expected, and +whatever may have been his private hopes and desires for his daughter, +he never uttered them, but seeing her happiness, echoed it. + +"No better thing could have happened from my point of view," he +declared, "for if she'd married anybody else in the world, I should have +been called to say 'good-bye' to her. Since she's chosen you, there's no +necessity for me to do so. I hope you're going on living at North Hill, +and I trust you're going to let me do the same. Of course, it would be +an impossible arrangement if you were dealing with anybody but me; but +since we are what we are in spirit and temper and understanding, I claim +that I may stop. The only difference I can see is this: that whereas at +present, when we dine, you sit between Estelle and me, in future I shall +sit between Estelle and you." + +"Not even that," vowed the lover. "Why shouldn't I go on sitting between +you?" + +"No--you'll be the head of the house in future." + +"The charm of this house is that there's no head to it," said Estelle, +"and Raymond isn't going to usurp any such position just because he +means to marry me." + +But distractions broke in upon their happiness. Ernest Churchouse fell +grievously ill and lacked strength to fight disease; while there came +news from Knapp that the farmer was tired of Abel and wished him away. + +For their old friend none could prolong his life; in the case of the +boy, Raymond decided that Sabina had better see him and go primed with a +definite offer. Abel's father did not anticipate much more trouble in +that quarter. He guessed that the lad, now in his seventeenth year, was +sufficiently weary of the land and would be glad to take up engineering. +He felt confident that Sabina must find him changed for the better, +prepared for his career and willing to enter upon it without greater +waste of time. He invited the boy's mother to learn if he felt more +friendly to him, and hoped that Abel had now revealed a frame of mind +and a power of reasoning, that would serve to solve the problem of his +career, and finally abolish his animosity to his father. + +Sabina went to see her son and heard the farmer first. He was not +unfriendly, but declared Abel a responsibility he no longer desired to +incur. + +"He's just at a tricky age--and he's shifty and secret--unlike other +lads. You never know what's going on in his mind, and he never laughs, +or takes pleasure in things. He's too difficult for me, and my wife says +she's frightened of him. As to work, he does it, but you always feel +he's got no love for it. And I know he means to bolt any day. I've +marked signs; so it will be better for you people to take the first +step." + +The farmer's wife spoke to similar purpose and added information that +made Sabina more than uneasy. + +"It's about this friend of his, Miss Waldron, that came to see him +backalong," she explained. "He'd talk pretty free about her sometimes +and was very proud of it when he got a letter now and again. But since +she's wrote and told him she's going to be married, he's turned a +gloomier character than ever. He don't like the thought of it and it +makes him dark. 'Tis almost as if he'd been in love with the lady. You +do hear of young boys falling in love before their time like that." + +Sabina was on the point of explaining, but did not do so. Her first care +was to see Abel and learn the truth of this report. Perhaps she felt not +wholly sorry that he resented this conclusion. Not a few had spoken of +Ironsyde's marriage before her: it was the gossip of Bridetown; but none +appeared to consider how it must affect her, or sympathise with her +emotions on the subject. What these emotions were, or whither they +tended, she hardly knew herself. Unowned even to her innermost heart, a +sort of dim hope had not quite died, that he might, after all, come back +to her. She blushed at the absurdity of the idea now, but it had struck +in her subconsciously and never wholly vanished. Before the engagement +was announced she had altered her attitude to Raymond and used him +civilly and shared his desire that Abel should be won over by his +father. The old hatred at receiving anything from Ironsyde's hands no +longer existed. She felt indifferent and, before her own approaching +problems, was not prepared to decline the offers of help that she knew +would quickly come when Ernest Churchouse died. + +She intended to preach patience and reason in the ears of Abel, and she +hoped he would not make her task difficult; but now it was clear that +Estelle's betrothal had troubled the boy. + +She saw him and they spoke together for a long time; but already his +force of character began to increase beyond his mother's. Despite her +purpose and sense of the gravity of the situation, he had more effect +upon her than she had upon him. Yet her arguments were rational and his +were not. But the old, fatal, personal element of temper crept in and, +during her speech with him, Sabina found fires that she believed long +quenched, were still smouldering in the depths of memory. The boy could +not indeed fan them to flame again; but the result of his attitude +served to weaken hers. She did not argue with conviction after finding +his temper. By some evil chance, that seemed more like art than +accident, he struck old wounds, and she was interested and agitated to +find that now he knew all there was to be known of the past and its +exact significance. The dream hidden so closely in her heart: that there +might yet be a reconciliation--the dream finally killed when she +perceived that Ironsyde had fallen in love with Estelle Waldron--was no +dream in her son's mind. What she knew was impossible, till now +represented no impossibility to him. He actually declared it as a thing +which, in his moral outlook, ought to be. Only so could the past be +retrieved, or the future made endurable. But to that matter they did not +immediately come. She dined at the farmer's table with Abel and three +men. Then he was told that he might make holiday and spend the afternoon +with his mother where he pleased. He took her therefore to the old +barrows nigh Knapp, and there on a stone they sat, watched the sun sink +over distant woodlands and talked together till the dusk was down. + +"I ought never to have trusted her," he said. "But I did. And, if I'd +thought she would ever have married him, I wouldn't have trusted her. I +thought she was the right sort; but if she was, she would never have +married a man who had sworn to marry you." + +"Good gracious, Abel! Whatever are you talking about?" she asked, +concerned to find the matter in his mind. + +"I'm talking about things that happened," he answered. "I'm not a child +now. I'm nearly seventeen and older than that, for I overheard two of +the men say so. You needn't tell me these things; I found them out for +myself, and I hated Raymond Ironsyde from the time I could hate anybody, +because the honest feeling to hate him was in me. And nobody has the +right to marry him but you, and he's got no right to marry anybody but +you. But he doesn't know the meaning of justice, and she is not fine, or +brave, or clever, or any of the things I thought she was, because she +wants to marry him." + +His mother considered this speech. + +"It's no good vexing yourself about the past," she said. "You and me +have got to look to the future, Abel, and not to dwell on all that don't +make the future any easier. It's difficult enough, but, for us, the +luxury of pride and hate isn't possible. I know very well what you feel. +It all went through me like fire before you were born--and after; but +we've got to go on living, and things are going to change, and we must +cut our coats according to our cloth--you and me." + +"What does that mean?" he asked. + +"It means we're not independent. There's not enough for your education +and my keep. So it's got to be him, or one other, and the other is an +old woman--his aunt. But it's all the same really, and he'll see that it +comes out of his pocket in the end. He's all powerful and we must do +according. Christianity's a very convenient thing for the likes of us. +It teaches that the meek are blessed and the weak the worthy ones. You +must look to your father if you want to succeed in the world." + +"Never," he said. "He's got everything else in the world, but he shan't +have me. I don't care much about being alive at best, seeing I must be +different from other people all my life; but I'd rather die twenty +times than owe anything to him. He knew before I was born that he was +going to wreck my life, and he did it, and he wrecked yours, and his +marriage with any other woman but you is a lie and a sham, and Estelle +knows it very well. Now I hate her as much as him, and I hate those who +let her marry him, and I hate the clergyman that will do it; and if I +could ruin them by killing myself on their doorstep, I would. But he +wouldn't care for that. If I was to do that, it would just suit the +devil, because he'd know I'd gone and could never rise up against him +any more." + +She made a half-hearted attempt to distract his thoughts. She began to +argue and, as usual, ended in bitterness. + +"You mustn't talk nonsense, like that. He means well by you, and you +mustn't cut off your nose to spite your face. You'll find plenty of +people to take his side and you mustn't only listen to his enemies. +There's always wise people to stand up for young men and excuse them, +though not many to stand up for young women." + +"Let them stand up for me and excuse me, then," he answered. "Let them +explain me and tell me why I should think different, and why I should +take his filthy money just to set his mind at rest. What has he done for +me that I should ease him and do as he pleases? Is it out of any care +for me he'd lift me up? Not likely. It's all to deceive the people and +make them say he's a good man. And until he puts you right, he's not a +good man, and soon or late I'll have it out with him. God blast me if I +don't. But I'll revenge myself clean on him. He shan't make out to the +world that he's done what a father should do for a son. He's my natural +father and no more, and he never wanted or meant to be more. And no +right will take away that wrong. And I'll treat him as other natural +creatures treat their fathers." + +"You can't do that," she said. "You're a human, and you've got a +conscience and must answer to it." + +"I will--some day. I know what my conscience says to me. My conscience +tells me the truth, not a lot of lies like yours tells you. I know +what's right and I know what's justice. I gave the man one chance. I +offered to go in his works--my works that ought to be some day. But that +didn't suit him. I must always knuckle under and bend to his will. But +never--never. I'd starve first, or throw myself into the sea. He don't +want me near him for people to point to, so I must be drove out of +Bridetown to the ends of the earth if he chooses. And if the damned +world was straight and honest and looked after the women and innocent +children, 'tis him, not me, would have been drove out of Bridetown." + +He spoke with amazing bitterness for youth, and echoed much that he had +heard, as well as what he had thought. His mother felt some astonishment +to find how his mind had enlarged, and some fear, also, to see the +hopelessness of the position. + +Already she considered in secret what craft might be necessary to bring +him to a more reasonable mind. + +"You'll have to think of me as well as yourself," she said. "Life's hard +enough without you making it so much harder. Two things will happen in a +few weeks from now and nothing can stop them. First you've got to leave +here, because farmer don't want you any more, and then poor Mister +Churchouse is going to pass away. He's just fading out like a +night-light--flickering up and down and bound to be called. And the best +man and the truest friend to sorrow that ever trod the earth." + +"I was going from here," he answered. "And you can look to me for making +a pound a week, and you can have it all if you'll take nothing from any +of my enemies. If you take money from my enemies, then I won't help +you." + +"You're a man in your opinions seemingly, though I wish to God you +hadn't grown out of childhood so quick, if you were going to grow to +this. It'll drive you mad if you're not careful. Then where shall I be?" + +"I'll drive other people mad--not you. I'll come back home, and then +I'll find work at Bridport." + +"Where's home going to be--that's the question?" Sabina answered. +"There's only one choice for you--between letting him finish your +education and going out to work." + +"We'll live in Bridport, then," he told her, "and I'll go into something +with machinery. I'll soon rise, and I might rise high enough to ruin him +yet, some day. And never you forget he had my offer and turned it down. +He didn't know what he was doing when he did that." + +"He couldn't trust you. How was he to know you wouldn't try to burn the +works again--and succeed next time?" + +Abel laughed. + +"That was a fool's trick. If they'd gone, he'd only have built 'em +again, better. But there are some things he can't insure." + +"I know a good few spinners at Bridport. Shall I have a look round for +you?" she asked, as they rose to return. + +He considered and agreed. + +"Yes, if it's only through you. I trust you not to go to him about it. +If you did and I found you had--" + +"No, no. I'll not go to him." + +He came and looked again at the motor car that had brought her. It +interested him as keenly as before. + +"That's for him to go about the country in, because he's standing for +Parliament," explained Sabina. + +But his anger was spent. He heeded her no more, and even the fact that +his father owned the car did not modify his deep interest. + +He rode a mile or two with her when she started to return and remained +silent and rapt for the few minutes of the experience. + +His mother tried to use the incident. + +"If you was to be good and patient and let the right thing be done, I +daresay in a few years you'd rise to having a motor of your own," she +said, when they stopped and he started to trudge back. + +"If ever I do, I'll get it for myself," he answered. "And when you're +old, I'll drive you about, very likely." + +He left her placidly, and it was understood that in a month he would +return to her as soon as she had determined on their immediate future. + +For herself she knew that it would be necessary to deceive him, yet +feared to attempt it after the recent conversation. She felt uneasily +proud of him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SWAN SONG + + +The doctor said Mr. Churchouse was dying because he didn't wish to go on +living, and when Estelle taxed the old man with his indifference, he +would not deny it. + +"I have lived long enough," he said. "The machine is worn out. My +thinking is become a painful effort. I forget the simplest matters, and +before you are a nuisance to yourself, you may feel very certain you +have long been a nuisance to other people." + +He had for some months grown physically weaker, and both Raymond and +others had noticed an inconsequence of utterance and an inability to +concentrate the mind. He liked friends to come and see him and would +listen with obvious effort to follow any argument, or grasp any fresh +item of news. But he spoke less and less. Nor could Sabina tempt him to +eat adequate food. He ignored the doctor's drugs and seemed to shrink +physically as well as mentally. + +"I'm turning into my chrysalis," he said once to Estelle. "One has to go +through that phase before one can be a butterfly. Remember, my pretty +girl, you are only burying an empty chrysalis when this broken thing is +put into the ground." + +"You're very unkind to talk so," she declared. "You might go on living +if you liked, and you ought to try--for the sake of those who love you." + +But he shook his head. + +"One doesn't control these things. You know I've always told you that +the length of the thread is no part of our business, but only the +spinning. I should have liked to see you married; yet, after all, why +not? I may be there. I shall hope to beg a holiday on that occasion and +be in church." + +He always spoke thus quite seriously. Death he regarded as no +discontinuity, or destruction, of life, but merely an alteration of +environment. + +At some personal cost Miss Ironsyde came to take leave of him, when it +seemed that his end was near. He kept his bed now, and by conserving his +strength gained a little activity of mind. + +He was troubled for Jenny's physical sufferings; while she, for her +part, endeavoured to discuss Sabina's problems, but she could not +interest the old man in them. + +"Abel is safe with his father," said Mr. Churchouse. "As for Sabina, I +have left her a competency, and so have you. One has been very heartily +sorry for her. She will have no anxiety when my will is read. I am +leaving you three books, Jenny. I will leave you more if you like. My +library as a whole is bequeathed to Estelle Waldron, since I know nobody +who values and respects books so well." + +"But Abel," she said. + +"I have tried to establish his character and we may find, after all, I +did more than we think. Providence is ever ready to water and tend the +good seed that we sow. But he must be made to abandon this fatal +attitude to his father. It is uncomfortable and inconvenient and helps +nobody. I shall talk to him, I hope, before I die. He is coming home in +a day or two." + +But Abel delayed a week, at his master's request, that he might help +pull a field of mangels, and Mr. Churchouse never saw him again. + +During his last days Estelle spent much time with him. He seldom +mentioned any other person but himself. He wandered in a disjointed +fashion over the past and mixed his recollections with his dreams. He +remembered jests and sometimes uttered them, then laughed; but often he +laughed to himself without giving any reason for his amusement. + +He was thoughtful and apologetic. Indeed, when he looked up into any +face, he always said, "I mourn to give you so much trouble." Latterly he +confused his visitors, but kept Estelle and Sabina clear in his mind. He +fancied that they had quarrelled and was always seeking to reconcile +them. Every morning he appeared anxious and distressed until they stood +by him together and declared that they were the best of friends. Then he +became tranquil. + +"That being so," he said, "I shall depart in peace." + +Estelle relieved the professional nurse and would read, talk, or listen, +as he wished. He spoke disjointedly one day and wove reality and +imagination together. + +"Much good marble is wasted on graves," he declared. "But it doesn't +bring the dead to life. Do you believe in the resurrection of the body, +Estelle? I hope you find it easy. That is one of the things I never was +honestly able to say I had grasped. Reason will fight against the nobler +tyranny of faith. The old soul in a glorified body--yet the same body, +you understand. We shan't all be in one pattern in heaven. We shall +preserve our individuality; and yet I deprecate passing eternity in this +tabernacle. Improvements may be counted upon, I think. The art of the +Divine Potter can doubtless make beautiful the humblest and the most +homely vessel." + +"Nobody who loves you would have you changed," she assured him. + +Then his mind wandered away and he smiled. + +"I listened to a street preacher once--long, long ago when I was +young--and he said that the road to everlasting destruction was lined +with women and gin shops. Upon which a sailor-man, who listened to him, +shouted out, 'Oh death, where is thy sting?' The meeting dissolved in a +very tornado of laughter. Sailors have a great sense of humour. It can +take the place of a fire on a cold day. One touch of humour makes the +whole world kin. If you have a baby, teach it to laugh as well as to +walk. But I think your baby will do that readily enough." + +On another occasion he laughed suddenly to himself and explained his +amusement to Sabina, who sat by him. + +"Eunominus, the heretic, boasted that he knew the nature of God; +whereupon St. Basil instantly puzzled him with twenty-one questions +about the body of the ant!" + +Estelle also tried to make Mr. Churchouse discuss Abel Dinnett. She told +him of an interesting fact. + +"I have got Ray to promise a big thing," she said. "He hesitated, but he +loved me too well to deny me. Besides, feeling as I do, I couldn't take +any denial. You see Nature is so much greater than all else to me, and +contrasted with her, our little man-made laws, often so mean and hateful +in their cowardly caution and cruel injustice, look pitiful and beneath +contempt. And I don't want to come between Raymond and his eldest son. I +won't--I won't do it. Abel is his first-born, and it may be cold-blooded +of me--Ray said it was at first--but I insist on that. I've made him +see, and I've made father see. I feel so much about it, that I wouldn't +marry him if he didn't recognize Abel first and treat him as the +first-born ought to be treated." + +"Abel--Abel Dinnett," said the other, who had not followed her speech. +"A good-looking boy, but lawless. He wants the world to bend to him; and +yet, if you'll believe me, there is a vein of fine sentiment in his +nature. With tears in his eyes he once told me that he had seen a fellow +pupil at school cruelly killing insects with a burning glass; and he had +beaten the cruel lad and broken his glass. That is all to the good. The +difficulty for him is that he was born out of wedlock. This great +disability could have been surmounted in America, Scotland, Ireland, +Germany, or, in fact, anywhere but in England. The law of the natural +child in this country would bring a blush to the cheek of a gorilla. +But neither Church nor State will lift a finger to right the infamy." + +"We are always wanting to pluck the mote out of our neighbour's eyes, +and never see the beam in our own," she answered. "Women will alter that +some day--and the disgusting divorce laws, too. Perhaps these are the +first things they will alter, when they have the power." + +"Who is going into Parliament?" he asked. "Somebody told me, but I +forget. He was a friend of mine. I remember that much." + +"Ray hopes to get in. I am going to help him, if I can." + +"It is a great responsibility. Tell him, if he is elected, to fight for +the natural child. It would well become him to do so. Let him rise to +it. Our Saviour said, 'Suffer the little children to come unto Me.' The +State, on the contrary, says, 'Suffer the little children to be done to +death and put out of the way.'" + +"Yes," she answered, "suffer fifty thousand little children to be lost +every year, because it is kinder to let them perish, than help them to +live under the wicked laws we have planned to govern them." + +But his mind collapsed and when she strove to bring it back again, she +could not. + +Two days before he died, Estelle found him in deep distress. He begged +to see her alone, and explained that he had to confess a great sin. + +"I ought to tell a priest," he said, "but I dare think that you will do +as well. If you absolve me, I shall know I may hope to be forgiven. I +have lived a double life, Estelle. I have pretended what was not +true--not merely once or twice, but systematically, deliberately, +callously." + +"I don't believe it, dear Mister Churchouse. You couldn't." + +"I should never have believed it myself. But even the old can surprise +themselves, painfully sometimes. I have lived with this perfidy for many +years; but I can't die with it. There's always an inclination to +confess our sins to a fellow creature. To confess them to our Maker is +quite needless, because He knows them; but it's a quality of human +nature to feel better after imparting its errors to another ear." + +He broke off. + +"What was I saying? I forget." + +"That you'd done something ever so wicked and nobody knew it." + +"Yes, yes. The books--the books I used to receive from unknown admirers +by post. My child, there were no unknown admirers! Nobody ever admired +me, either secretly or openly. Why should they? I used to send the books +to myself--God forgive me." + +"If I'd only known, I'd have sent you hundreds of books," she said. "I +did send you one or two." + +"I know it--they are my most precious possessions. They served in some +mysterious way to soothe my bad conscience. It would be interesting to +examine and find out how they did. But my brain can't look into anything +subtle now. I knew you sent the books. My good angel has recorded my +thanks. You always increased my vitality, Estelle. You are keeping me +alive at present. You have risen in the autumn of my life as a gracious +dawn; you have been the sun of my Indian summer. You will be a good wife +to Raymond. It seems only yesterday that he was a little thing in short +frocks, and Henry so proud of him. Now Henry is dead, and Raymond +wife-old and in Parliament. A sound Liberal, like his father before +him." + +"The election isn't till next year. But I hope he'll get in. They say at +Bridport he has a very good chance." + +The day before he died, Mr. Churchouse seemed better and talked to +Estelle of another visit from her father. + +"I always esteem his great good humour and fine British instinct to live +and let live. That is where our secret lies. We ride Empire with such a +loose rein, Estelle--the only way. You cannot dare to put a curb on +proud people. A paradox that--that those who fast bind don't fast find. +The instinct of England's greatness is in your father; he is an epitome +of our virtues. He has no imagination, however. Nor has England. If she +had, doubtless she would not do the great deeds that beggar imagination. +That reminds me. There is one little gift that you must have from my own +hand. A work of imagination--a work of art. Nobody in the world would +care about it but you. A poem, in fact. I have written one or two +others, but I tore them up. I sent them to newspapers, hoping to +astonish you with them; but when they were rejected I destroyed them. +This poem I did not send. Nobody has seen it but myself. Now I give it +to you, and I want you to read it aloud to me, that I may hear how it +sounds." + +"How clever of you! There's nothing you can't do. I know I shall love +it." + +He pointed to a sheaf of papers on a table. + +"The top one. It is a mournful subject, yet I hope treated cheerfully. I +wrote it before death was in sight; but I feel no more alarmed or +concerned about death now than I did then. You may think it is too +simple. But simplicity, though boring to the complex mind, is really +quite worth while. The childlike spirit--there is much to be said for +it. No doubt I have missed a great deal by limiting my interests; but I +have gained too--in directness." + +"There is a greatness about simplicity," she said. + +"To be simple in my life and subtle in my thought was my ambition at one +time; but I never could rise to subtlety. The native bent was against +it. The poem--I do not err in calling it a poem--is called +'Afterwards'--unless you can think of a better title. If any obvious and +glaring faults strike you, tell me. No doubt there are many." + +She read the two pages written in his little, careful and almost +feminine hand. + +"When I am dead, the storm and stress +Of many-coloured consciousness +Like blossom petals fall away +And drops the calyx back to clay; +A man, not woman, makes the bed +When our night comes and we are dead. + +"When I am dead, the ebb and flow +Of folk where I was wont to go, +Will never stay a moment's pace, +Or miss along the street my face. +Yet thoughts may wake and things be said +By one or two when I am dead. + +"When I am dead, the sunset light +Will fill the gap upon the height +In summer time, but on the plain +Sink down as winter comes again +And none who sees the evening red +Will know I loved it, who am dead. + +"When I am dead, upon my mound +Exotic flow'rs may first be found, +And not until they've blown away +Will other blossoms come to stay. +A daisy growing overhead +Brings gentle pleasure to the dead. + +"When I am dead, I'd love to see +An amber thrush hop over me +And bend his ear, as he would know +What I am whispering down below. +May many a song-bird find his bread +Upon my grave when I am dead. + +"When I am dead, and years shall pass, +The scythe will cut the darnel grass +Now and again for decency, +Where we forgotten people lie. +O'er ancient graves the living tread +With great impertinence on the dead. + +"When I am dead, all I have done +Must vanish, like the evening sun. +My book about the bells may stay +Behind me for a fleeting day; +But will not very oft be read +By anybody when I'm dead." + +She stopped and smiled with her eyes full of tears. + +"I had meant to write another verse," he explained, "but I put it off +and it's too late now. Such as it is, it is yours. Does it seem to you +to be interesting?" + +"It's very interesting indeed, and very beautiful. I shall always value +it as my greatest treasure." + +"Read it to your children," he said, "and if the opportunity occurs, +take them sometimes to see my grave. The spot is long chosen. Let there +be no gardening upon it out of good heart but bad taste. I should wish +it left largely to Nature. There will be daisies for your babies to +pick. I forget the text I selected. It's in my will." + +He bade her good-bye more tenderly than usual, as though he knew that he +would never see her again, and the next morning Bridetown heard that the +old man had died in his sleep. The people felt sorry, for he left no +enemies, and his many kindly thoughts and deeds were remembered for a +little while. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +NEW WORK FOR ABEL + + +With a swift weaver's knot John Best mended the flying yarn. Then he +turned from a novice at the Gill Spinner and listened, not very +patiently, to one who interrupted his lesson. + +"It's rather a doubtful thing that you should always be about the place +now you've left it, Levi," he said to Mr. Baggs. "It would be better +judgment and more decent on your part if you kept away." + +"You may think so," answered the hackler, "but I do not. And until the +figure of my pension is settled, I shall come and go and take no +denial." + +"It is settled. He don't change. He's said you shall have ten shillings +a week and no more, so that it will be." + +"And what if I decline to take ten shillings a week, after fifty years +of work in his beastly Mill?" + +"Then you can do the other thing and go without. You want it both ways, +you do." + +"I want justice--no more. Common justice, I suppose, can be got in +Dorset as elsewhere. I ought to have had a high testimonial when I left +this blasted place--a proper presentation for all to see, and a public +feed and a purse of sovereigns at the least." + +"That's what I mean when I say you can't have it both ways," answered +Mr. Best. "To be nice and pick words and consider your feelings is waste +of time, so I tell you that you can't grizzle and grumble and find fault +with everything and everybody for fifty years, and then expect people to +bow down and worship you and collect a purse of gold when you retire. If +we flew any flags about you, it would be because we'd got rid of you. +Mister Ironsyde don't like you, and why should he? You've always been up +against the employer and you've never lost a chance to poison the minds +of the employed. There's no good will in you and never was, and where +you could hang us up in the Mill and make difficulties without getting +yourself into trouble, you've always took great pleasure in so doing. +Did you ever pull with me, or anybody, if you could help it? Never. You +pulled against. You'd often have liked to treat us like the hemp and +tear us to pieces on your rougher's hackle. And how does such a man +expect anybody to care about him? There was no reason why you should +have had a pension at all, in my opinion. You've been blessed with good +health and no family, and you've never spent a shilling on another +fellow creature in your life. Therefore, it's more than justice that you +get ten shillings, and not less as you seem to think." + +Mr. Baggs glowered at John during this harangue. His was the steadfast +attitude of the egoist, who sees all life in terms of his own interest +alone. + +"We've got to fight for ourselves in this world since there's none other +to fight for us," he said, "and, of course, you take his side. You've +licked Ironsyde boots all your life, and nothing an Ironsyde can do is +wrong. But I might have known the man that's done the wickedness he's +done, and deserts his child and let his only son work on the land, +wouldn't meet me fair. There's no honour or honesty in the creature, but +if he thinks I'm going to take this slight without lifting my voice +against it, he's wrong. To leave the works and sneak out of 'em +unmourned and without a bit of talk and a testimonial was shameful +enough; but ten shilling a week--no! The country shall ring about that +and he'll find his credit shaken. 'Tis enough to lose him his election +to Parliament, and I hope it will do so." + +Best stared. + +"You're a cracked old fool, and not a spark of proper pride or +gratitude in you. Feeling like that, I wonder you dare touch his money; +but you're the sort who would take gifts with one hand and stab the +giver with the other. I hope he'll change his mind yet and give you no +pension at all." + +Levi, rather impressed with this unusual display of feeling from the +foreman, growled a little longer, then went his way; while in John there +arose a determination to prevent Mr. Baggs from visiting the scene of +his old activities. At present force of habit drew the old man to spend +half his time here; and now, when Best had returned to the Gill Spinner, +Levi prowled off to his old theatre of work, entered the hackling shop +and criticised the new hackler. His successor was young and stood in awe +of him at first; but awe was not a quality the veteran inspired for +long. Already Joe Ash began to grow restive under Levi's criticisms, and +dimly to feel that the old hackler was better away. To-day Mr. Baggs +allowed the resentment awakened by Best's criticisms to take shape in +offensive comments at the expense of his young successor. He was of that +order of beings who, when kicked, rests not until he has kicked somebody +again. + +But to-day the evil star of Mr. Baggs was in ascendant, and when he told +the youth that he wasted half his strength and had evidently been taught +his business by a fool, Levi was called to suffer a spirited retort. Joe +Ash came from the Midlands; his vocabulary was wider than that of Mr. +Baggs, and he soon had the old man gasping. Finally he ordered him out +of the shop, and told him that if he did not go he would be put out. + +"Strength or no strength," he said, "I've got enough for you, so hop out +of this and don't come back. If you're to be free of my shop, I leave; +and that's all there is to it." + +Mr. Baggs departed, having hoped that he might live to see the young man +hung with his own long line. He then pursued his way by the river, +labouring under acute emotions, and half a mile down stream met a lad +engaged in angling. + +Abel Dinnett had returned home and was making holiday until his mother +should discover work for him, or he himself be able to get occupation. + +For the moment Sabina found herself sufficiently busy packing up her +possessions and preparing for the forthcoming sale at 'The Magnolias.' + +She was waiting to find a new home until Abel's future labour appeared; +but, in secret, Raymond Ironsyde had undertaken to obtain it, and she +knew that henceforth she would live at Bridport. + +Mr. Baggs poured out his wrongs, but he did not begin immediately. +Failing adult ears, Abel's served him, and he proceeded to declare that +the new hackler was a worthless rogue, who did not know his business and +would never earn his money. + +Abel, however, had reached a standard of intelligence that no longer +respected Mr. Baggs. + +"I don't go to the works now," he said, "and never shall again. I don't +care nothing about them. My mother and me are going to leave Bridetown +when I get a job." + +"No doubt--no doubt. Though I dare say your talk is sour grapes--seeing +as you'll never come by your rights." + +Abel lifted his eyes to the iron-roofed buildings up the valley. + +"Oh yes, I could," he said. "That man wants to win me now. He's going to +be married, and she--her he's going to marry--told my mother that he's +wishful for me to be his proper son and be treated according. But I +won't have his damned friendship now. It's too late now. You can't drive +hate out of a man with gifts." + +"They ain't gifts--they're your right and due. 'Tis done to save his +face before the people, so they'll forgive his past and help send him +into Parliament. Look at me--fifty years of service and ten shillings a +week pension! It shall be known and 'twill lose him countless votes, +please God. A dog like that in Parliament! 'Twould be a disgrace to the +nation. And you go on hating him if you're a brave boy. Every honest man +hates him, same as I do. Twenty shillings I ought to have had, if a +penny." + +"Fling his money back in his face," said Abel. "Nobody did ought to +touch his money, or work for it. And if every man and woman refused to +go in his works, then he'd be ruined." + +"The wicked flourish like the green bay tree in this country, because +there's such a cruel lot of 'em, and they back each other up against the +righteous," declared Levi. "But a time's coming, and you'll live to see +it, when the world will rise against their iniquity." + +"Don't take his money, then." + +"It ain't his money. It's my money. He's keeping back my money. When +that John Best drops out, as he ought to do, for he's long past his +work, will he get ten shillings a week? Two pound, more like; and all +because he cringes and lies and lets the powers of darkness trample on +him! And may the money turn to poison in his mouth when he does get it." + +"Everything about Ironsyde is poison," added Abel. "And that girl that +was a friend to me--he's poisoned her now, and I won't know her no more. +I won't neighbour with anybody that has a good word for him, and I won't +breathe the same air with him much longer; and I told my mother if she +took a penny from him, I'd throw her over, too." + +"Quite right. I wish you was strong enough to punish him; but if you +was, he'd come whining to you and pray you not to. Men like him only +make war on women and the weak." + +Abel listened. + +"I'll punish him if he lives long enough," he said. "That's what I'm +after. I'll bide my time." + +"And for him to dare to get up and ask the people to send him to +Parliament. But they won't. He's too well known in these parts for that. +Who's he that he should be lifted up to represent honest, God-fearing +men?" + +"If there was anything to stop him getting in, I'd do it," declared +Abel. + +"'Tis for us, with weight of years and experience, to keep him out. All +sensible people will vote against him, and the more that know the truth +of him the fewer will support him. And Republican though I am, I'd +rather vote for the Tory than him. And as for you, if you stood up at +his meetings when the time comes, while they were all cheering the +wretch, and cried out that you was his son--that would be sure to lose +him a good few God-fearing votes. You think of it; you might hinder him +and even work him a mint of harm that way." + +The old man left Abel to consider his advice and the angler sat watching +his float for another hour. But his thoughts were on what he had heard; +and he felt no more interest in his sport. + +Presently he wound up his line and went home. He was attracted by Levi's +suggestion and guessed that he might create great feeling against his +father in that way. Himself, he did not shrink from the ordeal in +imagination; indeed his inherent vanity rather courted it. But when he +told his mother what he might do, she urged him to attempt no such +thing. Indeed she criticised him sharply for such a foolish thought. + +"You'll lose all sympathy from the people," she said, "and be flung out; +and none will care twopence for you. When you tried to burn the place +down and he forgave you, that made a feeling for him, and since then +'tis well known by those that matter, that he's done all he could for +you under the circumstances." + +"That's what he hasn't." + +"That's what he would if you'd let him. So it's silly to think you've +got any more grievances, and if you get up and make a row at one of his +meetings, you'll only be chucked into the street. You're nobody now, +through your own fault, and you've made people sorry for your father +instead of sorry for you, because you're such a pig-headed fool about +him and won't see sense." + +The boy flushed and glared at his mother, who seldom spoke in this vein. + +"If you wasn't my mother, I'd hit you down for that," he said, clenching +his fists. "What do you know about things to talk to me like that? Who +are you to take his side and cringe to him? If you can't judge him, +there's plenty that can, and it's you who are pig-headed, not me, +because you don't see I'm fighting your battle for you. It may seem too +late to fight for you; but it's never too late to hate a wicked beast, +and if I can help to keep him from getting what he wants I will, and I +don't care how I do it, either." + +She looked at him with little love in her eyes. + +"You're only being a scourge to me--not to him," she answered. "You +can't hurt him, however much you want to, and you can't hurt his name or +reputation, because time heals all and he's done much to others that +will make them forget what he did to me. I forget myself sometimes, so +'tis certain enough the people do. And if I can, surely to God you can, +if only for my sake. You're punishing me for being your mother, not him +for being your father--just contrary to what you want." + +"That's all I get, then, for standing up for you against him, and +keeping it before him and the people what he's done against you. Didn't +you tell me years and years ago I'd fight your battles some day? And +now, when I'm got clever enough to set about it, you curse me." + +"I don't curse you, Abel. But time is past for fighting battles. There's +nothing to fight about now." + +"We're punishing him cruel by not taking his money; but there's more to +do yet," he said. "And I'll do it if I can. And you mind that I'm +fighting against him for your sake, and if you're grown too old and too +tired to hate the man any more, I haven't. I can hate him for you as +well as myself." + +"And the hate comes back on you," she said. "It's long past the time for +all that. You've got plenty of brains and you know that this passion +against him is only harming yourself. For God's sake drop it. You say +you're a man now. Then be a man and take man's views and look on ahead +and think of your future life. Far from helping me, you're only +hindering me. We've come to a time when life's altered and the old life +here is done. We're going to begin life together--you and me--and you're +going to make our fortunes; but it's a mad lookout if you mean to put +all your strength into hating them that have no hate for you. It will +make you bitter and useless, and you'll grow up a sour, friendless +creature, like Levi Baggs. What's he got out of all his hate and +unkindness to the world?" + +Abel considered. + +"He hates everybody," he said. "It's no use to hate everybody, because +then everybody will hate you. I don't hate everybody. I only hate him." + +She argued, but knew that she had not changed her son. And then, when he +was gone again, fearing that he might do what he threatened, she went to +see Estelle Waldron. + +They met on the way to see each other, for Estelle had heard from +Raymond that work was found for Abel and, as next step in the plot, it +was necessary for Sabina to go to a small spinning mill in Bridport +herself. Ironsyde's name was not to transpire. + +Gladly enough the mother undertook her task. + +"He's out of hand," she said, "and away from home half his time. He +roams about and listens to bad counsellors. He's worse than ever since +he's idle. He's got another evil thought now, for his thoughts foul his +reason, as well I know thoughts can." + +She told Estelle what Abel had declared he would do. + +"You'd best let Mister Ironsyde know," she said, "and he'll take steps +according. If the boy can be kept out from any meeting it would be +wisest. But I'm powerless. I've wearied my tongue begging and blaming +and praying to him to use his sense; but it's beyond my power to make +him understand. There's a devil in him and nobody can cast it out." + +"He won't speak to me now. Poor Abel--yes, it's something like a +devil. I'll tell his father. We were very hopeful about the future +until--But if he gets to work, it may sweeten him. He'll have good +wages and meet nice people." + +"I wish it had been farther off." + +"So did I," answered Estelle; "but his father wants him under his own +eye and will put him into something better the moment he can. You won't +mention this to Abel, and he won't hear it there, because the workers +don't know it; but Raymond has a large interest in the Mill really." + +"I'll not mention it. I'll go to-morrow, and the boy will know nothing +save that I've got him a good job." + +"He can begin next month; and that will help him every way, I hope." + +So things fell out, and within a month Abel was at work. He believed his +mother solely responsible for this occupation. She had yet to find a +home at Bridport, so he came and went from Bridetown. + +He was soon deeply interested and only talked about his labours with a +steam engine. Of his troubles he ceased to speak, and for many days +never mentioned his father's name. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +IDEALS + + +An event which seemed more or less remote, came suddenly to the +forefront of Raymond Ironsyde's life, for ill-health hastened the +retirement of the sitting member and a parliamentary bye-election was +called for. + +Having undertaken the constituency he could not turn back, though the +sudden demand had not been expected. But he found plenty of enthusiastic +helpers and his own personality had made him many friends. + +It was indeed upon the significance of personality that much turned, and +incidentally the experiences into which he now entered served to show +him all that personality may mean. Estelle rejoiced that he should now +so swiftly learn what had so long been apparent to her. She always +declared an enthusiasm for personality; to her it seemed the force +behind everything and the mainspring of all movement. Lack of +personality meant stagnation; but granted personality, then advance was +possible--almost inevitable. + +He caught her meaning and appreciated what followed from it. But he saw +that personality demands freedom before its fullest expression and +highest altitude are attainable. That altitude had never been reached as +yet even by the most liberty-loving people. + +"There's no record in all the world of what man might do under +conditions of real liberty," said Estelle. "It has never been possible +so far; but I do believe history shows that the nearer we approach to +it, the more beautiful life becomes for everybody." + +Raymond admitted so much and agreed that the world had yet to learn what +it might achieve under a nobler dispensation of freedom. + +"Think of the art, the thought, the leisure for good things, if the +ceaseless fight against bad things were only ended; think of the +inspirations that personality will be free to express some day," she +said. + +But he shattered her dreams sometimes. She would never suffer him to +declare any advance impossible; yet she had to listen, when he explained +that countless things she cried for were impracticable under existing +circumstances. + +"You want to get to the goal without running the race, sweetheart," he +told her once. "Before this and this can possibly happen, that and that +must happen. House-building begins at the cellars, not the roof." + +She wrestled with political economy and its bearings on all that was +meant by democracy. She was patient and strove to master detail and keep +within the domain of reality. But, after all, she taught him more than +he could teach her; because her thoughts sprung from an imagination +touched with genius, while he was contented to take things as he found +them and distrust emotion and intuition. + +She exploded ideas in the ordered chambers of his mind. The proposition +that labour was not a commodity quite took him off his balance. Yet he +proved too logical to deny it when Estelle convinced his reason. + +"That fact belongs to the root of all the future, I believe," she said. +"From it all the flowers and seed we hope for ought to come, and the +interpretation of everything vital. Labour and the labourer aren't two +different things; they're one and the same thing. His labour is part of +every man, and it can no more be measured and calculated away from him +than his body and soul can. But it is the body and soul that must +regulate labour, not labour the body and soul. So you've got to regard +labour and the rights of labour as part of the rights of man, and not a +thing to be bought and sold like a pound of tea. You see that? Labour, +in fact, is as sacred as humanity and its rights are sacred too." + +"So are the rights of property," he answered, but doubtfully, for he +knew at heart that the one proposition did not by any means embrace the +other. Indeed Estelle contradicted him very forcibly. + +"Not the least bit in the world," she declared. "They are as far apart +as the poles. There's nothing the least sacred about property. The +rights of property are casual. They generally depend on all sorts of +things that don't matter. They happen through the changes and chances of +life, and human whims and fads and the pure accident of heredity and +descent. They are all on a lower level; they are all suspect, whereas +the rights of labour are a part of humanity." + +But he followed her parry with a sharp _riposte_. + +"Remember what happened when somebody promised to marry me," he said. +"Remember that, as a principle of rectitude, I have recognised my son +and accepted your very 'accident of descent' as chief reason for +according him all a first-born's rights. That was your instinct towards +right--his rights of property." + +"It was righteousness, not rights of property that made you decide," she +assured him. "Abel has no rights of property. The law ignores his rights +to be alive at all, I believe. The law calls him 'the son of none,' and +if you have no parents, you can't really exist. But the rights of labour +are above human law and founded in humanity. They are Abel's, yours, +everybody's. The man who works, by that fact commands the rights of +labour. Besides, circumstances alter cases." + +"Yes, and may again," he replied. "We can't deny the difficulties in +this personal experience of mine. But I'm beginning to think the boy's +not normal. I very much fear there's a screw loose." + +"Don't think that. He's a very clever boy." + +"And yet Sabina tells me frankly that his bitterness against me keeps +pace with his growing intelligence. Instead of his wits defeating his +bad temper, as they do sooner or later with most sane people, the older +he gets, the more his dislike increases and the less trouble he takes +to control it." + +"If that were so, of course circumstances might alter the case again," +she admitted. "But I don't believe there's a weak spot like that. +There's something retarded--some confusion of thought, some kind of knot +in his mind that isn't smoothed out yet. You've been infinitely patient +and we'll go on being infinitely patient--together." + +This difficult matter she dropped for the present; but finding him some +days later in a recipient mood, followed up her cherished argument, that +labour must be counted a commodity no more. + +"Listen to me, Ray," she said. "Very soon you'll be too busy to listen +to me at all--these are the last chances for me before your meetings +begin. But really what I'm saying will be splendidly useful in +speeches." + +"All very well if getting in was all that mattered," he told her. "I +can't echo all your ideas, Chicky, and speeches have a way of rising up +against one at awkward moments afterwards." + +"At any rate, you grant the main point," she said, "and so you must +grant what follows from it; and if you grant that, and put it in your +manifesto, you'll lose a few votes, but you'll gain hundreds. If +labour's not a commodity, but to be regulated by body and soul, then +wages must be regulated by body and soul too. Or, if you want to put it +in a way for a crowd to understand, you can say that we give even a +steam-engine the oil it must have before it begins to work, so how can +we deny a man the oil he wants before he begins to work?" + +"That means a minimum of wages." + +"Yes, a minimum consistent with human needs, below which wages cannot +and must not fail. That minimum should be just as much taken for granted +as the air a man breathes, or the water he drinks, or the free education +he gets as a boy. It isn't wages really; it's recognition of a man's +right to live and share the privileges of life, and be self-respecting, +just because he is a man. Everybody who is born, Ray, ought to have the +unquestioned right to live, and the amplest opportunity to become a good +and useful citizen. After that is granted, then wages should begin, and +each man, or woman, should have full freedom and opportunity to earn +what he, or she, was worth. That does away with the absurd idea of +equality, which can only be created artificially and would breed +disaster if we did create it." + +"There's no such thing as equality in human nature, any more than in any +other nature, Estelle. Seeds from the same pod are different--some weak, +some strong. But I grant the main petition. The idea's first rate--a +firm basis of right to reasonable life, and security for every human +being as our low-water mark; while, on that foundation, each may lift an +edifice according to their power. So that none who has the power to rise +above the minimum would be prevented from doing so, and no Trades Union +tyranny should interfere to prevent the strong man working eight hours a +day if he desires to do so, because the weaker one can only work seven." + +"I think the Trades Unions only want to prevent men being handicapped +out of the race at the start," she answered. "They know as well as we +do, that men are not born equal in mind or body; but rightly and +reasonably, they want them all to start equal as far as conditions go. +The race is to the strong and the prize is to the strong; but all, at +least, should have power to train for the race and start with equal +opportunities to win. There's such a lot to be done." + +"There is," he admitted. "The handicap you talk of is created for +thousands and thousands before they are born at all." + +"Think of being handicapped out of the race before you are born!" she +cried. "What could be more unjust and cruel and wicked than that?" + +"Very few will put the unborn before the living, or think of a +potential child rather than the desires of the parents--selfish though +they may be. It's a free country, and we don't know enough to start +stopping people from having a hand in the next generation if they decide +to do so." + +But her enthusiasm was not quenched by difficulties. + +"We want science and politics and good will to work together," she said. + +He returned to the smaller argument. + +"It's a far cry to what you want, yet I for one don't shrink from it. +The better a man is, the larger share he should have of the profits of +any enterprise he helps to advance. Then wages would take the shape of +his share in the profits, and you might easily find a head workman of +genius drawing more out of a business than--say, a junior partner, who +is a fool and not nearly so vital to the enterprise as he. But, you see, +if we say that, we argue in a circle, for the junior partner, ass though +he is, represents oil and fuel, which are just as important as the +clever workman's brains--in fact, his brains can't work without them. +Capital and labour are two halves of a whole and depend upon each other, +as much as men depend on women and women on men. Capital does a great +deal more than pay labour wages, remember. It educates his children, +builds his houses and doctors his ailments. Soon--so they tell +me--capital will be appropriated to look after labour's old age also, +and cheer his manhood with the knowledge that his age is safe." + +"You don't grudge any of these things, Ray?" + +"Not one. Every man should have security. But, after all, capital cannot +be denied its rights. It has got rights of some sort, surely? Socialists +would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs; but though they lack +power yet to kill the goose, they possess plenty of power to frighten it +away to foreign shores, where it can build its nest a bit more +hopefully than here. Many, who scent repudiation and appropriation, are +flying already. Capital is diminishing, and there seems a fair chance of +labour being over-coddled, at the expense of capital, when the Liberals +come in again. If that happens, labour is weakened as well as capital. +But both are essential to the power and well-being of the State. If we +ever had another war, which God forbid, labour and capital would have to +sink all differences and go to battle together unless we meant to be +defeated. Both are vital to our salvation." + +"Then give labour an interest in the blessing of capital," she said. +"Open labour's eyes to the vital values of capital--its strength as well +as weakness. Let the units of labour share the interests of their +employers and each become a capitalist in their own right. What does it +matter where the capital is as long as the nation has got it safe? You +might make England a thousand times richer if all those in the country, +who want to save money, had the power to save." + +"How can we? There's not enough to go round," he told her. But she +declared that no argument. + +"Then create conditions under which there might be much more. Let the +workers be owners, too. If the owners only took their ownership in a +different spirit and felt no man is more than a trustee for all--if they +were like you, Ray, who are a worker and an owner both, what great +things might happen! Make all industry co-operation, in reality as well +as theory, and a real democracy must come out of it. It's bound to +come." + +"Well, I suppose nothing can help it coming. We are great on free +institutions in this country and they get freer every year." + +So they argued, much at one in heart, and an impartial listener had felt +that it was within the power of the woman's intelligence and the man's +energy and common sense, to help the world as far as individuals can, +did chance and the outcome of their union afford them opportunity. + +But Estelle knew that good ideas were of little value in themselves. +Seed is of no account if the earth on which it falls be poisoned, and a +good idea above all, needs good will to welcome it. Good will to the +inspirations of man is as sunshine, rain, sweet soil to the seed; +without good will all thinking must perish, or at best lie dormant. She +wondered how much of good seed had perished under the bad weather of +human weakness, prejudice and jealousy. But she was young, and hope her +rightful heritage. The blessed word 'reconstruction' seemed to her as +musical as a ring of bells. + +"There are some things you never will be able to express in political +terms, and life is one of them," Ernest Churchouse had assured her; but +she was not convinced of it. She still reverenced politics and looked to +it to play husbandman, triumph over party and presently shine out, like +a universal sun, whose sole warmth was good will to man. + +And as she felt personally to Raymond's work, so did she want the world +of women to feel to all men's work. She would not have them claim their +rights in the argument of parity of intellect, for that she felt to be +vain. It was by the virtue of disparity that their equality should +appear. Their virtue and essential aid depended on the difference. The +world wanted women, not to do what men had done, but to bring to the +task the special qualities and distinctive genius of womanhood to +complement and crown the labour of manhood. The mighty structure was +growing; but it would never be finished without the saving grace of +woman's thought and the touch of woman's hand. The world's work needed +them--not for the qualities they shared with men, but for the qualities +men lacked and they possessed. If Raymond represented the masculine +worker, she hoped that she might presently stand in the ranks of the +women, and doubted not that great women would arise to lead her. + +She remembered that the Roman element of humanity was described as +representing the male spirit, while the Greek stood for the female; and +she could easily dream a blend of the two destined to produce a spirit +greater than either. Love quickened her visions and added the glow of +life to her hopes. + +So together she and her future husband prepared for their wedded days, +and if ever a man and woman faced the future with steadfast +determination to do justly and serve their kind with the best of their +united powers, this man and woman did. + +They were to be married after the election, and that would take place +early in the coming year. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ATROPOS + + +Ironsyde for once found himself part of a machine, and by no means the +most important part. He fought the election resolutely and spared no +energy. The attraction of the contest grew upon him, and since he +contended against a personal acquaintance, one who rated sportsmanship +as highly as Arthur Waldron himself, the encounter proceeded on rational +lines. It became exceedingly strenuous in the later stages and Raymond's +agent, from an attitude of certainty, grew more doubtful. But the +personal factor told for the Liberal. He was popular in the constituency +and Waldron, himself a strong Conservative, whose vote must necessarily +be cast against his future son-in-law, preached the moral. + +"If you beat us, Ray, it will be entirely owing to the fact that you +played cricket and football in the public eye for twenty years," he +asserted and believed. + +The Liberal Committee room was at 'The Seven Stars,' for Mr. Legg +supported the cause of democracy and pinned his highest hopes thereto. +He worked hard for Ironsyde and, on the sole occasion when painful +incidents threatened to spoil a public meeting, Job exercised tact and +saved the situation. + +At one of the last of his gatherings, in the great, new public room of +'The Seven Stars,' Ironsyde had been suddenly confronted with his son. +Abel attended this meeting of his father's supporters and attempted to +interrupt it. He had arrived primed with words and meant to declare +himself before the people; but when the time came, he was nervous and +lost his head. Sitting and listening grew to an agony. He could not wait +till question time and felt a force within him crying to him, to get +upon his feet and finish the thing he had planned to do. But Job, who +was among the stewards, kept watchful eyes upon the benches, and Abel +had hardly stood up, when he recognised him. Before the boy had shouted +half a dozen incoherent words, Mr. Legg and a policeman were at his +side. + +He sat far down the hall and the little disturbance he had been able to +create was hardly appreciated. For Raymond now neared the end of his +speech and it had contained matter which aroused attention from all who +listened to it, awakened disquiet in some, but enthusiasm among the +greater number. He was telling of such hopes and desires as he and +Estelle shared, and though an indifferent speaker, the purity of his +ambitions and their far-reaching significance challenged intelligent +listeners. + +In less than half a minute Abel was removed. He did not struggle, but +his first instinct was great relief to be outside. Not until later did +his reverse breed wrath. His father had not seen him and when Ironsyde +inquired afterwards, what the trouble was, Mr. Legg evaded the facts. +But he looked to it that Abel should be powerless to renew disturbances. +He warned those who controlled the remaining meetings not to admit him, +and henceforth kept at the doors a man who knew Abel. Mr. Legg also saw +Sabina, who was now much in Bridport concerned with a little house that +she had taken, and the boy's mother implored him to do no more evil. To +her surprise he admitted that he had been wrong. But he was dark and +stormy. She saw but little of him and did not know how he occupied his +leisure, or spent his wages. + +There is no doubt that, at this time, Abel sank out of mind with those +most interested in him. Estelle was entirely preoccupied with the +election, and when once the lad's new work had been determined and he +went to do it, Raymond dismissed him for the present from his thoughts. +He felt grateful to Sabina for falling in with his wishes and hoped +that, since she was now definitely on his side, a time might soon come +when she would be able to influence her son. Indeed Sabina herself was +more hopeful, and when Estelle came to see her in Bridport, declared +that Abel kept regular hours and appeared to be interested in his work. + +Neither she nor anybody belonging to him heard of the boy's escapade at +the meeting, for upon that subject Job Legg felt it wisest to be silent. +And when the penultimate meeting passed, the spirit of it was such that +those best able to judge again felt very sanguine for Ironsyde. He had +created a good impression and won a wide measure of support. He had +worked hard, traversed all the ground and left the people under no +shadow of doubt as to his opinions. Bridetown was for him; West Haven +and Bridport were said to be largely in his favour, but the outlying +agricultural district inclined towards his rival. Raymond had, however, +been at great pains to win the suffrage of the farmers, and his last +meeting was on their account. + +Before him now lay the promise of two days' rest, and he accepted them +very thankfully, for he began to grow weary in mind and body. He had +poured his vitality into the struggle which, started more or less as a +sporting event, gradually waxed into a serious and all-important matter. +And as his knowledge increased and his physical energy waned, a cloud +dulled his enthusiasm at times and more than once he asked himself if it +was all worth while--if this infinite trouble and high tension were +expended to the wisest purpose on these ambitions. He had heard things +from politicians, who came to speak for him, that discouraged him. He +had found that single-mindedness was not the dominant quality of those +who followed politics as a profession. The loaves and fishes bulked +largely in their calculations, and he heard a distinguished man say +things at one of his meetings which Raymond knew that it was impossible +he could believe. For example, it was clearly a popular catchword that +party politics had become archaic, and that a time was near when party +would be forgotten in a larger and nobler spirit. Speakers openly +declared that great changes were in sight, and the constitution must be +modified; but, privately, they professed no such opinions. All looked to +their party and their party alone for personal advance. It seemed to +Ironsyde that their spirits were mean spirits; that they concealed +behind their profession a practice of shrewd calculation and a policy of +cynical self-advance. The talk behind the scenes was not of national +welfare, but individual success, or failure. The men who talked the +loudest on the platform of altruism and the greatest good to the +greatest number, were most alive in private conversation to the +wire-pulling and intrigue which proceeded unseen; and it was in the +machinery they found their prime interest and excitement, rather than in +the great operations the machine was ostensibly created to achieve. The +whole business on their lips in private appeared to have no more real +significance than a county cricket match, or any other game. + +Thanks largely to the woman he was to wed, Ironsyde took now a +statesman-like rather than a political view as far as his inexperience +could do so. He had no axe to grind, and from the standpoint of his +ignorance, progress looked easy and demanded no more than that good will +of which Estelle so often spoke. But in practice he began to perceive +the gulf between ideal legislation and practical politics and, in +moments of physical depression, as the election approached, his heart +failed him. He grew despondent at night. Then, after refreshing sleep, +the spirit of hope reawakened. He felt very certain now that he was +going to get in; and still with morning light he hailed the victory; +while, after a heavy day, he doubted of its fruits and mistrusted +himself. His powers seemed puny contrasted with the gigantic +difficulties that the machine set up between a private member and any +effective or independent activity in the House. + +He was cast down as he rode home after his last meeting but one, and +his reflections were again most deeply tinged with doubt as to the value +of these heroic exertions. Looked at here, in winter moonlight under a +sky of stars, this fevered strife seemed vain, and the particular +ambition to which he had devoted such tremendous application appeared +thin and doubtful--almost unworthy. He traversed the enterprise, dwelt +on outstanding features of it and comforted himself, as often he had +done of late, by reflecting that Estelle would be at his right hand. If, +after practical experience and fair trial, he found himself powerless to +serve their common interests, or advance their ideals, then he could +leave the field of Parliament and seek elsewhere for a hearing. His +ingenuous hope was to interest his leaders; for he believed that many +who possessed power, thought and felt as he did. + +He had grown placid by the time he left South Street and turned into the +road for home. The night was keen and frosty. It braced him and he began +to feel cheerful and hungry for the supper that waited him at North +Hill. + +Then, where the road forked from Bridetown and an arm left it for West +Haven, at a point two hundred yards from outlying farm-houses, a young, +slight figure leapt from the hedge, stood firmly in the road and stopped +Raymond's horse. The moonlight was clear and showed Ironsyde his son. +Abel leapt at the bridle rein, and when the rider bade him loose it, he +lifted a revolver and fired twice pointblank. + +Ten minutes later, on their way back from the meeting and full of +politics, there drove that way John Best, Nicholas Roberts and a +Bridetown farmer. They found a man on his back in the middle of the road +and a horse standing quietly beside him. None doubted but that Raymond +Ironsyde was dead, yet it was not possible for them to be sure. They +lifted him into the farmer's cart therefore, and while Best and Roberts +returned with him to Bridport Hospital, the farmer mounted Ironsyde's +horse and galloped to North Hill with his news. Arthur Waldron was from +home, but Estelle left the house as quickly as a motor car could be made +ready, and in a quarter of an hour stood at Raymond's side. + +He was dead and had, indeed, died instantly when fired upon. He had been +shot through the lung and heart, and must have perished before he fell +from his horse to the ground. + +They knew Estelle at the hospital and left her with Raymond for a little +while. He looked ten years younger than when she had seen him last. All +care was gone and an expression of content rested upon his beautiful +face. + +The doctor feared to leave her, judging of the shock; but when he +returned she was calm and controlled. She sat by the dead man and held +his hand. + +"A little longer," she said, and he went out again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HIDING-PLACE + + +No doubt existed as to the murderer of Raymond Ironsyde, for on the +night of his death, Abel Dinnett did not return home. He had left work +at the usual time, but had not taken his bicycle; and from that day he +was seen no more. + +It appeared impossible that he could evade the hue and cry, but +twenty-four hours passed and there came no report of his capture. Little +mystery marked the matter, save that of Abel's disappearance. His +animosity towards his father was known and it had culminated thus. None +imagined that capture would be long delayed; but forty-eight hours +passed and still there came no news of him. + +Estelle Waldron fled from all thought of him at first; then she +reflected upon him--driven to do so by a conviction concerning him that +commanded action from her. + +On the day after the coroner's inquest, for the first time she sought +Sabina. The meeting was of an affecting character, for each very fully +realised the situation from the standpoint of the other. Sabina was the +more distressed, yet she entertained definite convictions and declared +herself positive concerning certain facts. Estelle questioned her +conclusions and, indeed, refused to believe them. + +"I hope you'll understand my coming, Sabina," she said. + +She was clad, as usual, in a grey Harris tweed, and the elder wondered +why she did not wear black. Estelle's face was haggard and worn, with +much suffering. But it seemed that the last dregs of her own cup were +not yet drunk, for an excruciating problem faced her. There was none to +help her solve it, yet she took it to Sabina. + +"I thought you'd come, sooner or later. This is a thing beyond any human +power to make better. God knows I mourn for you far more than I mourn +for myself. I don't mourn for myself. Long ago I saw that the living +can't be happy, though the dead may be. The dead may be--we'll hope it +for them." + +"It's death to me as well as to him," said Estelle simply. "As far as +I'm concerned, I feel that I'm dead from now and shall live on as +somebody different--somebody I don't know yet. All that we were and had +and hoped--everything is gone with him. The future was to be spent in +trying to do good things. We shared the same ideas about it. But that's +all over. I'm left--single-handed, Sabina." + +"Yes, I know how you feel." + +"I can't bear to think of it yet. I didn't come to talk about him, or +myself. I came to talk about Abel." + +"I can't tell you anything about him." + +"I know you know nothing. I think I know more than you do." + +"Know more of him than I do?" asked the mother. There was almost a flash +of jealousy in her voice. But it faded and she sighed. + +"No, no. You needn't fret for him. They may find him, or they may not; +but they'll not find him alive." + +Estelle started. She believed most steadfastly that Abel was alive, and +felt very certain that she knew his hiding-place. + +"Why do you think that?" she asked. "You might hope it; but why do you +think it? Have you any good reason for thinking it?" + +"There are some things you know," answered the mother. "You know them +without being told and without any reason. You neither hope nor +fear--you know. I might ask you how you know where he is. But I don't +want to ask you. I've taken my good-bye of him, poor, wasted life. How +had God got the heart to let him live for this? People will say it was +fitting, and happened by the plan of his Maker. No man's child--not even +God's. It's all hidden, all dark to me. It's worked itself out to the +bitter end. Men would have been too kind to work it out like this. Only +God could. I can't say much to you. I'm very sorry for you. You were +caught up into the thing and didn't know, or guess, what you were +thrusting yourself into. But now it's your turn, and you'll have to wait +long years, as I did, before you can look at life again without passion +or sorrow." + +"It doesn't matter about me. But, if you feel Abel is dead, I feel just +as strongly that he is alive, and that this isn't the end of him." + +Sabina considered. + +"I know him better than you, and I know Providence better than you do," +she answered. "It's like the wonder you are--to think on him without +hate. But you're wasting your time and showing pity for nothing. He's +beyond pity. Why, I don't pity him--his mother." + +"I'm only doing what Raymond tried to do so often and failed--what he +would have me do now if he'd lived. And if I know something that nobody +else does, I must use that knowledge. I'm sorry I do know, Sabina, but I +do." + +"You waste your time, I expect. If the hunt that's going on doesn't find +him, how shall you do it? He's at the bottom of the sea, I hope." + +They parted and the same night Estelle set out to satisfy her will. She +told nobody of her purpose, for she knew that her father would not have +allowed her to pursue it. Waldron was utterly crushed by the death of +his friend and could not as yet realise the loss. + +Nor did Estelle realise it, save in fitful and fleeting agonies. As yet +the full significance of the event was by no means weighed by her. It +meant far more than she could measure and receive and accept in so +brief a space of time. Seen from the standpoint of this death, every +plan of her life, every undertaking for the future, was dislocated. She +left that complete ruin for the present. There was no hurry to restore, +or set about rebuilding the fabric of her future. She would have all her +life to do it in. + +The thought of Abel came as a demand to her justice. Her knowledge, +amounting to a conviction, required action. The nature of the action she +did not know, but something urged her to reach him if she could. For she +believed him mad. Great torture of spirit had overtaken her under her +loss; but upon this extreme grief, ugly and incessant, obtruded the +thought of Abel, the secret of his present refuge and the impulse to +approach him. Her personal suffering established rather than shook her +own high standards. She had promised the boy never to tell anybody of +the haunt he had shown her under the roof in the old store at West +Haven; and if most women might now have forgotten such a promise, +Estelle did not. But she very strenuously argued against the spiritual +impulse to seek him, for every physical instinct rose against doing so. +To do this was surely not required of her, for whereunto would it lead? +What must be the result of any such meeting? It might be dreadful; it +could not fail to be futile. Yet all mental effort to escape the task +proved vain. Her very grief edged her old, austere, chivalrous +acceptance of duty. She felt that justice called her to this ordeal, and +she went--with no fixed purpose save to see him and urge him to +surrender himself for his own peace if he could understand. No personal +fear touched her reflections. She might have welcomed fear in these +unspeakable moments of her life, for she was little enamoured of living +after Raymond Ironsyde died. The thought of death for herself had not +been distasteful at that time. + +She went fearlessly, when all slept and her going and coming would not +be observed. She left her home at a moonless midnight, took candle and +matches, dressed in her stoutest clothes and walked over North Hill +towards Bridport. But at the eastern shoulder of the downs she descended +through a field and struck the road again just at the fork where Raymond +had perished. + +Then she struck into the West Haven way and soon slipped under the black +mass of the old store. The night was cloudy and still. No wind blew and +the sigh of the sea beneath the shelving beaches close at hand, had sunk +to a murmur. West Haven lay lost in darkness. The old store had been +searched, as many other empty buildings, for the fugitive; but he was +not specially associated with this place, save in the mind of Estelle. +The police had hunted it carefully, no more, and she guessed that his +eerie under the roof, only reached by a somewhat perilous climb through +a broken window, would not be discovered. + +She remembered also that there were some students of Raymond's murder +who did not associate Abel with it. Such held that only accident and +coincidence had made him run away on the night of Ironsyde's end. They +argued that in these cases the obvious always proved erroneous, and the +theory most transparently rational seldom led the way to the truth. + +But she had never doubted about that. It seemed already a commonplace of +knowledge, a lifetime old, that Abel had destroyed his father, and that +he must be insane to have ruined his own life in this manner. + +She ascended cautiously through the darkness, reached a gap--once a +window--from which her ascent must be made, and listened for a few +moments to hear if anything stirred above her. + +It seemed as though the old store was full of noises, for the fingers of +decay never cease from picking and, in the silence of night, one can +best hear their stealthy activities. Little falls of fragments sounded +loudly, even echoed, in this great silence. There was almost a +perpetual rustle and whisper; and once a thud and skurry, when a rat +displaced a piece of mortar which fell from the rotting plaster. Dark +though the heaven was and black the outer night, it had the quality that +air never loses and she saw the sky as possessed of illumination in +contrast with its setting of the broken window. Within all was blankly +black; from above there came no sound. + +She climbed to the window ledge, felt for the nails that Abel had +hammered in to hold his feet and soon ascended through a large gap under +the eaves of the store. Some shock had thrown out a piece of brickwork +here. Seen from the ground the aperture looked trifling and had indeed +challenged no attention; but it was large enough to admit a man. + +For a moment Estelle stood in this aperture before entering the den +within. She raised her voice, which fluttered after her climb, and +called to him. + +"Abel! Abel! It's Estelle." + +There came the thought, even as she spoke, that he might answer with a +bullet; but he answered not at all. She felt thankful for the silence +and hoped that he might have deserted his retreat. Perhaps, indeed, he +had never come to it; and yet it seemed impossible that he had for two +days escaped capture unless here concealed. It occurred to her that he +might wander out by night and return before day. He might even now be +behind her, to intercept her return. Still no shadow of fear shook her +mind or body. She felt not a tremor. All that concerned her conscience +was now completed and she hoped that it would be possible to dismiss +from her thoughts the fellow creature who had destroyed her joy of life +and worked evil so far reaching. She could leave him now to his destiny +and feel under no compulsion to relate the incidents of her nocturnal +search. Had he been there, she would have risked the meeting, urged him +to surrender and then left him if he allowed her to do so. She would +never have given him up, or broken her promise to keep his secret. + +But the chamber under the roof was large and she did not leave it +without making sure that he was neither hiding nor sleeping within it. +She entered, lighted her candle and examined a triangular recess formed +by the converging beams of the roof above her and the joists under her +feet. + +The boy had been busy here. There were evidences of him--evidences of a +child rather than a man. Boyish forethought stared her in the face and +staggered her by its ghastly incongruities with the things this +premeditating youth had done. Here were provisions, not such as a man +would have selected to stand a siege, but the taste of a schoolboy. She +looked at the supplies spread here--tins of preserved food, packets of +chocolate, bottles of ginger beer, bananas, biscuits. But it seemed that +the hoard had not been touched. One tin of potted salmon had been +opened, but no part of the contents was consumed. Either accident had +changed his purpose and frightened him elsewhere at the last moment, or +the energies and activities that had gone to pile this accumulation were +all spent in the process and now he did not need them. + +Then she looked further, to the extremity of the den he had made, and +there, lying comfortably on a pile of shavings, Estelle found him. + +She guessed that the storm and stress of his crime had exhausted him and +thrown him into heaviest possible physical slumber after great mental +tribulation. She shuddered as she looked down on him and a revulsion, a +loathing tempted her to creep away again before he awakened. She did not +think of him as a patricide, nor did her own loss entirely inspire the +emotion; she never associated him with that, but kept him outside it, as +she would have kept some insensible or inanimate object had such been +responsible for Ironsyde's end. It was the sudden thought of all +Raymond's death might mean--not to her but the world--that turned her +heart to stone for a fearful second as she looked down upon the +unconscious figure. Her own sorrow was sealed at its fountains for the +time. But her sorrow for the world could not be sealed. And then came +the thought that the insensible boy at her feet, escaping for a little +while through sleep's primeval sanctity, was part of the robbed world +also. Who had lost more than he by his unreason? If her heart did not +melt then, it grew softer. + +But there was more to learn before she left him and the truth can be +recorded. + +Abel had killed his father and hastened to his lair exultant. He had +provided for what should follow and vaguely hoped that presently, before +his stores were spent, the way would be clearer for escape. He assured +himself safe from discovery and guessed that when a fortnight was +passed, he might safely creep out, reach a port, find work in a ship and +turn his back upon England for ever. + +That was his general plan before the deed. Afterwards all changed for +him. He then found himself a being racked and over-mastered by new +sensations. The desirable thing that he had done changed its features, +even as death changes the features of life; the ideal, so noble and +seemly before, when attained assumed such a shape as, in one of Abel's +heredity, it was bound to assume. Not at once did the change appear, but +as a cloud no bigger than a man's hand in the clear, triumphant sky of +his achievement. Even so an apple, that once he had stolen and hidden, +was bruised unknown to him and thus contained the seed of death, that +made it rot before it was ripe. The decay spread and the fruit turned to +filth before he could win any enjoyment from it. + +He shook off the beginnings of doubt impatiently. He retraced his +grievances and dwelt on the glory of his revenge as he reached his +secret place after the crime. But the stain darkened in the heart of his +mind; and before dawn crept through cracks in the roof above his lair, +dissolution had begun. + +Through the hours of that first day he lay there with his thoughts for +company and a process, deepening, as dusk deepened, into remorse began +to horrify him. He fought with all his might against it. He resented it +with indignation. His gorge rose against it; he would have strangled it, +had it been a ponderable thing within his power to destroy; but as time +passed he began to know it was stronger than he. It gripped his spirit +with unconquerable fingers and slowly stifled him. Time crept on +interminable. When the second night came, he was faint and turned to his +food. He struggled with himself and opened a tin of salmon. But he could +not eat. He believed that he would never eat again. He slept for an +hour, then woke from terrifying dreams. His mind wandered and he longed +to be gone and tear off his clothes and dip into the sea. + +At dawn of the second day men were hunting the old stores, from its +cellars to the attics below him. He heard them speaking under his feet +and listened to two men who cursed him. They speculated whether he was +too young to hang and hoped he might not be. Yet he could take pride in +their failure to find him. There was, as he remembered, only one person +in the world who knew of his eerie; but terror did not accompany this +recollection. His exultation at the defeat of the searchers soon +vanished, and he found himself indifferent to the thought that Estelle +might remember. + +He knew that his plans could not be fulfilled now: it was impossible for +him to live a fortnight here. And then he began stealthily, fearfully, +to doubt of life itself. It had changed in its aspect and invitation. +Its promises were dead. It could hold nothing for him as he had been +told by Levi Baggs. The emotions now threatening his mind were such that +he believed no length of days would ever dim them; from what he suffered +now, it seemed that time's self could promise no escape. Life would be +hell and not worth living. At this point in his struggles his mind +failed him and became disordered. It worked fitfully, and its processes +were broken with blanks and breaks. Chaos marked his mental steps from +this point; his feet were caught and he fell down and down, yet tried +hard for a while to stay his fall. His consciousness began to decide, +while his natural instincts struggled against the decision. Not one, but +rival spirits tore him. Reason formed no part in the encounter; no +arbiter arose between the conflicting forces, between a gathering will +to die and escape further torment, and the brute will to live, that must +belong to every young creature, happy or wretched. + +The trial was long drawn out; but it had ended some hours before Estelle +stood beside him. + +She considered whether she should waken Abel and determined that she +must do so, since to speak with him, if possible, she held her duty now. +He was safe if he wished to be, for she would never tell his secret. So +she bent down with her light--to find him dead. He had shot himself +through the right temple after sunset time of the second day. + +Estelle stood and looked at him for a little while, then climbed back to +earth and went away through the darkness to tell his mother that she was +right. + + +THE END + + + + +The Human Boy and the War + +BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + +In this book of stories Mr. Phillpotts uses his genial gift of +characterization to picture the effect of the European War on the +impressionable minds of boys--English school-boys far away from anything +but the mysterious echo of the strange terrors and blood-stirring +heroisms of battle, who live close only to the martial invitation of a +recruiting station. There are stories of a boy who runs away to go to +the front, teachers who go--perhaps without running; the school's +contest for a prize poem about the war, and snow battles, fiercely +belligerent, mimicking the strategies of Flanders and the Champagne. +They are deeply moving sketches revealing the heart and mind of English +youth in war-time. + +"The book is extraordinary in the skill with which it gets into that +world of the boy so shut away from the adult world. It is entirely +unlike anything else by Phillpotts, equal as it is to his other volumes +in charm, character study, humor and interest. It is one of those books +that every reader will want to recommend to his friends, and which he +will only lend with the express proviso that it must be returned."--_New +York Times_. + +"In this book Mr. Phillpotts pictures a boy, a real human boy. The boy's +way of thinking, his outlook upon life, his ambitions, his ideals, his +moods, his peculiarities, these are all here touched with a kindly +sympathy and humor."--_New York Sun_. + +"Mr. Phillpotts writes from a real knowledge of the schoolboy's habit of +thought. He writes with much humor and the result is as delightful and +entertaining a volume as has come from his pen for some time."--_Buffalo +Evening News_. + + + + +CHRONICLES OF ST. TID + +BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + +"The gifts of the short-story writer are wholly Mr. Phillpotts'. Here, +as elsewhere in his works, we have the place painted with the pen of an +artist, and the person depicted with the skill of the writer who is +inspired by all types of humanity."--_Boston Evening Transcript_. + +"No one rivals Phillpotts in this peculiar domain of presenting an +ancient landscape, with its homes and their inmates as survivals of a +past century. There is nothing vague about his characters. They are +undeniable personalities, and are possessed of a psychology all their +own."--_The Chicago Tribune_. + + + + +THE BANKS OF COLNE + +BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + +"Absorbing, written with sure power and a constant flow of humor.... Has +the warm human glow of sympathy and understanding, and it is written +with real mastery."--_New York Times_. + +"A tale of absorbing interest from its start to the altogether unusual +and dramatic climax with which it closes."--_Philadelphia Public +Ledger_. + +"Stands in the foremost rank of current fiction."--_New York Tribune_. + +"His acute faculties of sympathetic observation, his felicitous skill in +characterization, and his power to present the life of a community in +all its multiple aspects are here combined in the most mature and +absorbing novel of his entire career."--_Philadelphia Press_. + + + + +THE GREEN ALLEYS + +BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + +"As long as we have such novels as _The Green Alleys_ and such novelists +as Mr. Phillpotts, we need have no fears for the future of English +fiction. Mr. Phillpotts' latest novel is a representative example of him +at his best, of his skill as a literary creator and of his ability as an +interpreter of life."--_Boston Transcript_. + +"A drama of fascinating interest, lightened by touches of delicious +comedy ... one of the best of the many remarkable books from the pen of +this clever author."--_Boston Globe_. + + + + +BRUNEL'S TOWER + +BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + +The regeneration of a faulty character through association with +dignified honest work and simple, sincere people is the theme which Mr. +Phillpotts has chosen for this novel. The scene is largely laid in a +pottery, where a lad, having escaped from a reform school, has sought +shelter and work. Under the influence of the gentle, kindly folk of the +community he comes in a measure to realize himself. + + + + +OLD DELABOLE + +BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS + + +"Besides being a good story, richly peopled, and brimful of human nature +in its finer aspects, the book is seasoned with quiet humor and a deal +of mellow wisdom."--_New York Times_. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Spinners, by Eden Phillpotts + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPINNERS *** + +***** This file should be named 15416.txt or 15416.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/4/1/15416/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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