In reality Gairsley represented a corner of the estate which Aldous had specially made his own. He had spent much labour and thought on the improvement of what had been a backward district, and in particular he had tried a small profit-sharing experiment upon a farm there which he had taken into his own hands for the purpose. The experiment had met with fair success, and the labourer in question, who was one of the workers in it, had volunteered some approving remarks upon it at the meeting.
"Oh! it was very proper and respectful!" said Marcella, hastily.
The carriage rolled on some yards before Aldous replied. Then he spoke in a drier tone than he had ever yet used to her.
"You do it injustice, I think. The man is perfectly independent, and an honest fellow. I was grateful to him for what he said."
"Of course, I am no judge!" cried Marcella, quickly--repentantly. "Why did you ask me? I saw everything crooked, I suppose--it was your Primrose Dames--they got upon my nerves. Why did you have them? I didn"t mean to vex and hurt you--I didn"t indeed--it was all the other way--and now I have."
She turned upon him laughing, but also half crying, as he could tell by the flutter of her breath.
He vowed he was not hurt, and once more changed both talk and tone. They reached the drive"s end without a word of Wharton. But Marcella went to bed hating herself, and Aldous, after his solitary drive home, sat up long and late, feverishly pacing and thinking.
Then next evening how differently things fell!
Marcella, having spent the afternoon at the Court, hearing all the final arrangements for the ball, and bearing with Miss Raeburn in a way which astonished herself, came home full of a sense of duty done, and announced to her mother that she was going to Mr. Wharton"s meeting in the Baptist chapel that evening.
"Unnecessary, don"t you think?" said Mrs. Boyce, lifting her eyebrows.
"However, if you go, I shall go with you."
Most mothers, dealing with a girl of twenty-one, under the circ.u.mstances, would have said, "I had rather you stayed at home." Mrs.
Boyce never employed locutions of this kind. She recognised with perfect calmness that Marcella"s bringing up, and especially her independent years in London, had made it impossible.
Marcella fidgeted.
"I don"t know why you should, mamma. Papa will be sure to want you. Of course, I shall take Deacon."
"Please order dinner a quarter of an hour earlier, and tell Deacon to bring down my walking things to the hall," was all Mrs. Boyce said in answer.
Marcella walked upstairs with her head very stiff. So her mother, and Miss Raeburn too, thought it necessary to keep watch on her. How preposterous! She thought of her free and easy relations with her Kensington student-friends, and wondered when a more reasonable idea of the relations between men and women would begin to penetrate English country society.
Mr. Boyce talked recklessly of going too.
"Of course, I know he will spout seditious nonsense," he said irritably to his wife, "but it"s the fellow"s power of talk that is so astonishing. _He_ isn"t troubled with your Raeburn heaviness."
Marcella came into the room as the discussion was going on.
"If papa goes," she said in an undertone to her mother as she pa.s.sed her, "it will spoil the meeting. The labourers will turn sulky. I shouldn"t wonder if they did or said something unpleasant. As it is, _you_ had much better not come, mamma. They are sure to attack the cottages--and other things."
Mrs. Boyce took no notice as far as she herself was concerned, but her quiet decision at last succeeded in leaving Mr. Boyce safely settled by the fire, provided as usual with a cigarette and a French novel.
The meeting was held in a little iron Baptist chapel, erected some few years before on the outskirts of the village, to the grief and scandal of Mr. Harden. There were about a hundred and twenty labourers present, and at the back some boys and girls, come to giggle and make a noise--n.o.body else. The Baptist minister, a smooth-faced young man, possessed, as it turned out, of opinions little short of Wharton"s own in point of vigour and rigour, was already in command. A few late comers, as they slouched in, stole side looks at Marcella and the veiled lady in black beside her, sitting in the corner of the last bench; and Marcella nodded to one or two of the audience, Jim Hurd amongst them.
Otherwise no one took any notice of them. It was the first time that Mrs. Boyce had been inside any building belonging to the village.
Wharton arrived late. He had been canva.s.sing at a distance, and neither of the Mellor ladies had seen him all day. He slipped up the bench with a bow and a smile to greet them. "I am done!" he said to Marcella, as he took off his hat. "My voice is gone, my mind ditto. I shall drivel for half an hour and let them go. Did you ever see such a stolid set?"
"You will rouse them," said Marcella.
Her eyes were animated, her colour high, and she took no account at all of his plea of weariness.
"You challenge me? I must rouse them--that was what you came to see? Is that it?"
She laughed and made no answer. He left her and went up to the minister"s desk, the men shuffling their feet a little, and rattling a stick here and there as he did so.
The young minister took the chair and introduced the speaker. He had a strong Yorkshire accent, and his speech was divided between the most vehement attacks, couched in the most Scriptural language, upon capital and privilege--that is to say, on landlords and the land system, on State churches and the "idle rich," interspersed with quavering returns upon himself, as though he were scared by his own invective. "My brothers, let us be _calm_!" he would say after every burst of pa.s.sion, with a long deep-voiced emphasis on the last word; "let us, above all things, be _calm_!"--and then bit by bit voice and denunciation would begin to mount again towards a fresh climax of loud-voiced attack, only to sink again to the same lamb-like refrain. Mrs. Boyce"s thin lip twitched, and Marcella bore the good gentleman a grudge for providing her mother with so much unnecessary amus.e.m.e.nt.
As for Wharton, at the opening of his speech he spoke both awkwardly and flatly; and Marcella had a momentary shock. He was, as he said, tired, and his wits were not at command. He began with the general political programme of the party to which--on its extreme left wing--he proclaimed himself to belong. This programme was, of course, by now a newspaper commonplace of the stalest sort. He himself recited it without enthusiasm, and it was received without a spark, so far as appeared, of interest or agreement. The minister gave an "hear, hear," of a loud official sort; the men made no sign.
"They might be a set of Dutch cheeses!" thought Marcella, indignantly, after a while. "But, after all, why should they care for all this? I shall have to get up in a minute and stop those children romping."
But through all this, as it were, Wharton was only waiting for his second wind. There came a moment when, dropping his quasi-official and high political tone, he said suddenly with another voice and emphasis:
"Well now, my men, I"ll be bound you"re thinking, "That"s all pretty enough!--we haven"t got anything against it--we dare say it"s all right; but we don"t care a bra.s.s ha"porth about any of it! If that"s all you"d got to say to us, you might have let us bide at home. We don"t have none too much time to rest our bones a bit by the fire, and talk to the missus and the kids. Why didn"t you let us alone, instead of bringing us out in the cold?"
"Well, but it _isn"t_ all I"ve got to say--and you know it--because I"ve spoken to you before. What I"ve been talking about is all true, and all important, and you"ll see it some day when you"re fit. But what can men in your position know about it, or care about it? What do any of you want, but _bread_--"
--He thundered on the desk--
"--a bit of decent _comfort_--a bit of _freedom_--freedom from tyrants who call themselves your betters!--a bit of rest in your old age, a home that"s something better than a dog-hole, a wage that"s something better than starvation, an honest share in the wealth you are making every day and every hour for other people to gorge and plunder!"
He stopped a moment to see how _that_ took. A knot of young men in a corner rattled their sticks vigorously. The older men had begun at any rate to look at the speaker. The boys on the back benches instinctively stopped scuffling.
Then he threw himself into a sort of rapid question-and-answer. What were their wages?--eleven shillings a week?
"Not they!" cried a man from the middle of the chapel. "Yer mus" reckon it wet an" dry. I wor turned back two days las" week, an" two days this, _fower_ shillin" lost each week--that"s what I call skinnin" ov yer."
Wharton nodded at him approvingly. By now he knew the majority of the men in each village by name, and never forgot a face or a biography.
"You"re right there, Watkins. Eleven shillings, then, when it isn"t less, never more, and precious often less; and harvest money--the people that are kind enough to come round and ask you to vote Tory for them make a deal of that, don"t they?--and a few odds and ends here and there--precious few of them! There! that"s about it for wages, isn"t it?
Thirty pounds a year, somewhere about, to keep a wife and children on--and for ten hours a day work, not counting meal times--that"s it, I think. Oh, you _are_ well off!--aren"t you?"
He dropped his arms, folded, on the desk in front of him, and paused to look at them, his bright kindling eye running over rank after rank. A chuckle of rough laughter, bitter and jeering, ran through the benches.
Then they broke out and applauded him.
Well, and about their cottages?
His glance caught Marcella, pa.s.sed to her mother sitting stiffly motionless under her veil. He drew himself up, thought a moment, then threw himself far forward again over the desk as though the better to launch what he had to say, his voice taking a grinding determined note.
He had been in all parts of the division, he said; seen everything, inquired into everything. No doubt, on the great properties there had been a good deal done of late years--public opinion had effected something, the landlords had been forced to disgorge some of the gains wrested from labour, to pay for the decent housing of the labourer. But did anybody suppose that _enough_ had been done? Why, he had seen _dens_--aye, on the best properties--not fit for the pigs that the farmers wouldn"t let the labourers keep, lest they should steal their straw for the littering of them!--where a man was bound to live the life of a beast, and his children after him--
A tall thin man of about sixty rose in his place, and pointed a long quavering finger at the speaker.
"What is it, Darwin? speak up!" said Wharton, dropping at once into the colloquial tone, and stooping forward to listen.
"My sleepin" room"s six foot nine by seven foot six. We have to shift our bed for the rain"s comin" in, an" yer may see for yoursels ther ain"t much room to shift it in. An" beyont us ther"s a room for the chillen, same size as ourn, an" no window, nothin" but the door into us.
Ov a summer night the chillen, three on "em, is all of a sweat afore they"re asleep. An" no garden, an" no chance o" decent ways nohow. An"
if yer ask for a bit o" repairs yer get sworn at. An" that"s all that most on us can get out of Squire Boyce!"