Farmer Hosking was slow-witted, but as honest a man as ever stood up against hard times; and a more open and hospitable race than the people on that coast I never wish to meet. It was the caution of a child who had burnt his fingers, not once but many times. Had I known what I afterwards learned of Farmer Hosking"s tribulations as landlord of a "secluded country residence," I should have approached him with the bashfulness proper to my suit and faltered as I undertook to prove the bright exception in a long line of painful experiences. He had bought the Tresillack estate twenty years before--on mortgage, I fancy--because the land adjoined his own and would pay him for tillage. But the house was a nuisance, an incubus; and had been so from the beginning.
""Well, miss," he said, "you"re welcome to look over it; a pretty enough place, inside and out. There"s no trouble about keys, because I"ve put in a housekeeper, a widow-woman, and she"ll show you round. With your leave I"ll step up the coombe so far with you, and put you in your way."
As I thanked him he paused and rubbed his chin. "There"s one thing I must tell you, though. Whoever takes the house must take Mrs. Carkeek along with it."
""Mrs. Carkeek?" I echoed dolefully. "Is that the housekeeper?"
""Yes: she was wife to my late hind. I"m sorry, miss," he added, my face telling him no doubt what sort of woman I expected Mrs. Carkeek to be; "but I had to make it a rule after--after some things that happened.
And I dare say you won"t find her so bad. Mary Carkeek"s a sensible comfortable woman, and knows the place. She was in service there to Squire Kendall when he sold up and went: her first place it was."
""I may as well see the house, anyhow," said I dejectedly. So we started to walk up the coombe. The path, which ran beside a little chattering stream, was narrow for the most part, and Farmer Hosking, with an apology, strode on ahead to beat aside the brambles.
But whenever its width allowed us to walk side by side I caught him from time to time stealing a shy inquisitive glance under his rough eyebrows.
Courteously though he bore himself, it was clear that he could not sum me up to his satisfaction or bring me square with his notion of a tenant for his "secluded country residence."
"I don"t know what foolish fancy prompted it, but about halfway up the coombe I stopped short and asked:
""There are no ghosts, I suppose?"
"It struck me, a moment after I had uttered it, as a supremely silly question; but he took it quite seriously. "No; I never heard tell of any _ghosts_." He laid a queer sort of stress on the word. "There"s always been trouble with servants, and maids" tongues will be runnin".
But Mary Carkeek lives up there alone, and she seems comfortable enough."
"We walked on. By-and-by he pointed with his stick. "It don"t look like a place for ghosts, now, do it?"
"Certainly it did not. Above an untrimmed orchard rose a terrace of turf scattered with thorn-bushes, and above this a terrace of stone, upon which stood the prettiest cottage I had ever seen. It was long and low and thatched; a deep verandah ran from end to end. Clematis, Banksia roses and honeysuckle climbed the posts of this verandah, and big blooms of the Marechal Niel were cl.u.s.tered along its roof, beneath the lattices of the bedroom windows. The house was small enough to be called a cottage, and rare enough in features and in situation to confer distinction on any tenant. It suggested what in those days we should have called "elegant" living. And I could have clapped my hands for joy.
"My spirits mounted still higher when Mrs. Carkeek opened the door to us. I had looked for a Mrs. Gummidge, and I found a healthy middle-aged woman with a thoughtful but contented face, and a smile which, without a trace of obsequiousness, quite bore out the farmer"s description of her. She was a comfortable woman; and while we walked through the rooms together (for Mr. Hosking waited outside) I "took to"
Mrs. Carkeek. Her speech was direct and practical; the rooms, in spite of their faded furniture, were bright and exquisitely clean; and somehow the very atmosphere of the house gave me a sense of well-being, of feeling at home and cared for; yes, _of being loved_. Don"t laugh, my dears; for when I"ve done you may not think this fancy altogether foolish.
"I stepped out into the verandah, and Farmer Hosking pocketed the pruning-knife which he had been using on a bush of jasmine.
""This is better than anything I had dreamed of," said I.
""Well, miss, that"s not a wise way of beginning a bargain, if you"ll excuse me."
"He took no advantage, however, of my admission; and we struck the bargain as we returned down the coombe to his farm, where the hired chaise waited to convey me back to the market town. I had meant to engage a maid of my own, but now it occurred to me that I might do very well with Mrs. Carkeek. This, too, was settled in the course of the next day or two, and within the week I had moved into my new home.
"I can hardly describe to you the happiness of my first month at Tresillack; because (as I now believe) if I take the reasons which I had for being happy, one by one, there remains over something which I cannot account for. I was moderately young, entirely healthy; I felt myself independent and adventurous; the season was high summer, the weather glorious, the garden in all the pomp of June, yet sufficiently unkempt to keep me busy, give me a sharp appet.i.te for meals, and send me to bed in that drowsy stupor which comes of the odours of earth. I spent the most of my time out of doors, winding up the day"s work as a rule with a walk down the cool valley, along the beach and back.
"I soon found that all housework could be safely left to Mrs. Carkeek.
She did not talk much; indeed her only fault (a rare one in house-keepers) was that she talked too little, and even when I addressed her seemed at times unable to give me her attention. It was as though her mind strayed off to some small job she had forgotten, and her eyes wore a listening look, as though she waited for the neglected task to speak and remind her. But as a matter of fact she forgot nothing.
Indeed, my dears, I was never so well attended to in my life.
"Well, that is what I"m coming to. That, so to say, is just _it_.
The woman not only had the rooms swept and dusted, and my meals prepared to the moment. In a hundred odd little ways this orderliness, these preparations, seemed to read my desires. Did I wish the roses renewed in a bowl upon the dining-table, sure enough at the next meal they would be replaced by fresh ones. Mrs. Carkeek (I told myself) must have surprised and interpreted a glance of mine. And yet I could not remember having glanced at the bowl in her presence. And how on earth had she guessed the very roses, the very shapes and colours I had lightly wished for? This is only an instance, you understand.
Every day, and from morning to night, I happened on others, each slight enough, but all together bearing witness to a ministering intelligence as subtle as it was untiring.
"I am a light sleeper, as you know, with an uncomfortable knack of waking with the sun and roaming early. No matter how early I rose at Tresillack, Mrs. Carkeek seemed to have prevented me. Finally I had to conclude that she arose and dusted and tidied as soon as she judged me safely a-bed. For once, finding the drawing-room (where I had been sitting late) "redded up" at four in the morning, and no trace of a plate of raspberries which I had carried thither after dinner and left overnight, I determined to test her, and walked through to the kitchen, calling her by name. I found the kitchen as clean as a pin, and the fire laid, but no trace of Mrs. Carkeek. I walked upstairs and knocked at her door. At the second knock a sleepy voice cried out, and presently the good woman stood before me in her nightgown, looking (I thought) very badly scared.
""No," I said, "it"s not a burglar. But I"ve found out what I wanted, that you do your morning"s work over night. But you mustn"t wait for me when I choose to sit up. And now go back to your bed like a good soul, whilst I take a run down to the beach."
"She stood blinking in the dawn. Her face was still white.
""Oh, miss," she gasped, "I made sure you must have seen something!"
""And so I have," I answered, "but it was neither burglars nor ghosts."
""Thank G.o.d!" I heard her say as she turned her back to me in her grey bedroom--which faced the north. And I took this for a carelessly pious expression and ran downstairs, thinking no more of it.
"A few days later I began to understand.
"The plan of Tresillack house (I must explain) was simplicity itself.
To the left of the hall as you entered was the dining-room; to the right the drawing-room, with a boudoir beyond. The foot of the stairs faced the front door, and beside it, pa.s.sing a glazed inner door, you found two others right and left, the left opening on the kitchen, the right on a pa.s.sage which ran by a store-cupboard under the bend of the stairs to a neat pantry with the usual shelves and linen-press, and under the window (which faced north) a porcelain basin and bra.s.s tap. On the first morning of my tenancy I had visited this pantry and turned the tap; but no water ran. I supposed this to be accidental. Mrs. Carkeek had to wash up gla.s.s ware and crockery, and no doubt Mrs. Carkeek would complain of any failure in the water supply.
"But the day after my surprise visit (as I called it) I had picked a basketful of roses, and carried them into the pantry as a handy place to arrange them in. I chose a china bowl and went to fill it at the tap.
Again the water would not run.
"I called Mrs. Carkeek. "What is wrong with this tap?" I asked.
"The rest of the house is well enough supplied."
""I don"t know, miss. I never use it."
""But there must be a reason; and you must find it a great nuisance washing up the plate and gla.s.ses in the kitchen. Come around to the back with me, and we"ll have a look at the cisterns."
""The cisterns"ll be all right, miss. I a.s.sure you I don"t find it a trouble."
"But I was not to be put off. The back of the house stood but ten feet from a wall which was really but a stone face built against the cliff cut away by the architect. Above the cliff rose the kitchen garden, and from its lower path we looked over the wall"s parapet upon the cisterns.
There were two--a very large one, supplying the kitchen and the bathroom above the kitchen; and a small one, obviously fed by the other, and as obviously leading, by a pipe which I could trace, to the pantry.
Now the big cistern stood almost full, and yet the small one, though on a lower level, was empty.
""It"s as plain as daylight," said I. "The pipe between the two is choked." And I clambered on to the parapet.
""I wouldn"t, miss. The pantry tap is only cold water, and no use to me. From the kitchen boiler I gets it hot, you see."
""But I want the pantry water for my flowers." I bent over and groped.
"I thought as much!" said I, as I wrenched out a thick plug of cork and immediately the water began to flow. I turned triumphantly on Mrs.
Carkeek, who had grown suddenly red in the face. Her eyes were fixed on the cork in my hand. To keep it more firmly wedged in its place somebody had wrapped it round with a rag of calico print; and, discoloured though the rag was, I seemed to recall the pattern (a lilac sprig). Then, as our eyes met, it occurred to me that only two mornings before Mrs. Carkeek had worn a print gown of that same sprigged pattern.
"I had the presence of mind to hide this very small discovery, sliding over it some quite trivial remark; and presently Mrs. Carkeek regained her composure. But I own I felt disappointed in her. It seemed such a paltry thing to be disingenuous over. She had deliberately acted a fib before me; and why? Merely because she preferred the kitchen to the pantry tap. It was childish. "But servants are all the same," I told myself. "I must take Mrs. Carkeek as she is; and, after all, she is a treasure."
"On the second night after this, and between eleven and twelve o"clock, I was lying in bed and reading myself sleepy over a novel of Lord Lytton"s, when a small sound disturbed me. I listened. The sound was clearly that of water trickling; and I set it down to rain. A shower (I told myself) had filled the water-pipes which drained the roof.
Somehow I could not fix the sound. There was a water pipe against the wall just outside my window. I rose and drew up the blind.
"To my astonishment no rain was falling; no rain had fallen. I felt the slate window-sill; some dew had gathered there--no more. There was no wind, no cloud: only a still moon high over the eastern slope of the coombe, the distant plash of waves, and the fragrance of many roses.
I went back to bed and listened again. Yes, the trickling sound continued, quite distinct in the silence of the house, not to be confused for a moment with the dull murmur of the beach. After a while it began to grate on my nerves. I caught up my candle, flung my dressing-gown about me, and stole softly downstairs.
"Then it was simple. I traced the sound to the pantry. "Mrs. Carkeek has left the tap running," said I: and, sure enough, I found it so--a thin trickle steadily running to waste in the porcelain basin. I turned off the tap, went contentedly back to my bed, and slept.
"--for some hours. I opened my eyes in darkness, and at once knew what had awakened me. The tap was running again. Now it had shut easily in my hand, but not so easily that I could believe it had slipped open again of its own accord. "This is Mrs. Carkeek"s doing," said I; and am afraid I added "Bother Mrs. Carkeek!"
"Well, there was no help for it: so I struck a light, looked at my watch, saw that the hour was just three o"clock, and descended the stairs again. At the pantry door I paused. I was not afraid--not one little bit. In fact the notion that anything might be wrong had never crossed my mind. But I remember thinking, with my hand on the door, that if Mrs. Carkeek were in the pantry I might happen to give her a severe fright.