"London isn"t Rodhaven either."
Then once again the talk became serious; and once again Ridgett saw in Mrs. Dale"s white face, trembling fingers, and narrowed eyes, the deadly anxiety that she was suffering. With that face opposite to one, it would have been monstrously cruel not to offer the wisest and best considered advice that one could anyhow produce.
"Here"s _verb. sap_," he said solemnly. "_Ultimatum_, and _ne plus ultra_. I"m giving you Latin for Latin, Mr. Dale. I understand your att.i.tude, and I appreciate its bearing; but I say to you, the best causes sometimes need the best advocates."
"Yes!" Mavis drew in her breath with a little gasp.
"If any of the gentry down here would speak up for you, send you a few testimonials--well, I should get them to do it. You see, from what you tell me of the case, you"ve your Member of Parliament against you. It would be useful to counteract--"
Then Mavis eagerly explained that the biggest man of the neighborhood had promised to give his support to her husband. This great personage was the Right Honorable Everard Barradine, an ex-Cabinet Minister and a large landed proprietor, who lived over at the Abbey House, on the edge of Manninglea Chase, five miles away. Mr. Barradine had always borne a good heart to her and hers.
"Capital!" said Mr. Ridgett, visibly brightening. "A friend at court--what"s the proverb? It"s not for me to let fall any remarks about wire-pulling. But naturally there"s a freemasonry among the bigwigs. You take my tip, and use Mr. Barradine"s interest for all it"s worth."
"Well," said Dale, "he has given a promise--of a sort--and I shan"t bother him further."
After that the talk became light again. As if the strain of her anxiety was more than Mavis Dale could bear for long at a time, she plunged into frivolous discussion, telling Mr. Ridgett of the splendors and beauties of the Abbey House. It was a show-place. Its gardens surpa.s.sed belief; royal persons came hundreds of miles to look at them. And the wild historic woodland of Manninglea Chase was famous, it was said, all over Europe. Talking thus, she seemed as gay and careless as a child of ten.
Mr. Ridgett, puffing his pipe luxuriously, contemplated her animated face with undisguised admiration; and presently Dale felt irritated by the admiring scrutiny.
That was what always happened. At first he felt pleased that people should admire his wife; but if they seemed to admire her the least little shade too much, he became angry. In the lanes, in church, anywhere, he froze too attentive glances of admiring males with a most portentous scowl. It was not that he entertained the faintest doubt of her loyalty and devotion, or of her power to protect herself from improper a.s.siduities; but he loved her so pa.s.sionately that his blood began to boil at the mere thought of anybody"s having the audacity to court her favor. Instinctively, on such occasions, words formed themselves in his mind and clamored for utterance on his lips. "You take care, my fine fellow;" "Hands off, please;" "Let me catch you trying it"--and so on: only thought-counters secretly used by himself, and never issued in the currency of spoken words.
Now the internal warmth was just sufficient to make him push back his chair and break up the party. "Mavis," he said, rather grimly, "we mustn"t detain Mr. Ridgett from his duties." Then he forced a laugh.
"I"m n.o.body; and so it doesn"t matter how long I sit over my supper.
But we"ve to remember that Mr. Ridgett is the postmaster of Rodchurch."
II
He went to bed early; but he knew that he would not sleep until the mail-cart had gone.
His wife was sleeping peacefully. He could feel the warmth of her body close against him; her breath, drawn so lightly and regularly, just touched his face; and he edged away cautiously, seeking s.p.a.ce in which to turn without disturbing her. At immeasurably long periods the church clock chimed the quarters. That last chime must have been the quarter after eleven.
Every now and then there came a sound that told him of the things that were happening on the ground floor; and in the intervals of silence he began to suffer from an oppressive sense of unreality. This disruption of the routine of life was so strange as to seem incredible. They were making up the two big bags for the up mail and the down mail; and he was lying here like a state prisoner, of no account for the time being, while below him his realm remained actively working.
As midnight approached, an increasing anxiety possessed him. The horse and cart had been standing under the window for what appeared to be hours, and yet they would not bring out the bags. What in the name of reason were they waiting for now? Then at last he detected the movement of shuffling footsteps; he heard voices--Ridgett"s voice among the others; a wheel grated against the curbstone, and the cart rolled away. The sounds of the church clock chiming twelve mingled with the reverberations made by the horse"s hoofs as the cart pa.s.sed between the garden walls. Thank goodness, anyhow, they had got it off to its time.
With a sigh, he turned on his back and stared at the darkness that hid the ceiling. Ah! A profuse perspiration had broken out on his neck and chest. To give himself more air he pulled down the too generous supply of bed clothes, and in imagination he followed the cart.
It was progressing slowly and steadily along the five miles of road to the railway junction. Would Perkins, the driver, break the regulations to-night and pick up somebody for a ride with the sacred bags? Such a gross breach of duty would render Perkins, or his employer, liable to a heavy penalty; and again and again Dale had reminded him of the risks attending misbehavior. But unwatched men grow bold. This would be a night to bring temptation in the way of Perkins. Some villager--workman, field-laborer, wood-cutter--tramping the road would perhaps ask for a lift. "What cheer, mate! I"m for the night-mail.
Give us a lift"s far as junction, and I"ll stan" the price of a pint to you."
A glance up and down the empty road--and then "Jump in. Wunnerful weather we"re having, aren"t us?" So much for the wise regulation!
_Most_ wise regulation, if one understand it properly. For when once you begin tampering with the inviolable nature of a mail-cart, where are you to stop? Suppose your chance pa.s.senger proves to be not an honest subject, but a malefactor--_one of a gang_. "Take that, ye swab." A clump on the side of his head, and the driver is sent endways from the box-seat; the cart gallops on to where the, rest of the gang lurk waiting for it; strong arms, long legs, and the monstrous deed is consummated. Her Majesty"s bags have been stolen.
Though so dark in this bedroom, there would be light enough out there.
There was no moon; but the summer night, as he knew, would never deepen to real obscurity. It would keep all of a piece till dawn, like a sort of gray dusk, heavy and impenetrable beneath the trees, but quite transparent on the heath and in the glades; and then it would become all silvery and trembling; the wet bracken would glisten faintly, high branches of beech trees would glow startlingly, each needle on top of the lofty firs would change to a tiny sword of fire--just as he had seen happen so often years ago, when as an undisciplined lad he lay out in the woods for his pleasure.
Now! The church clock had struck one. Barring accidents, the cart was at its goal; and in imagination he saw the junction as clearly as if he had been standing at Perkins" elbow. There was the train for London already arrived--steam rising in a straight jet from the engine, guard and porter with lanterns, and a flood of orange light streaming from the open doors of the n.o.ble Post Office coach. Perkins hands in his up bag, receives a bag in exchange, and half his task is done. Forty minutes to wait before he can perform the other half of it. Then, having pa.s.sed over the metals with the cart, he will attend to the down train; hand in his other bag, receive the London bag; and, as soon as the people in the signal-box will release the crossing-gates, he may come home.
Dale knew now that he would not sleep until the cart returned.
When the church clock struck the half-hour after two, he lay straining his ears to catch the sound of the horse"s hoofs. Finally it came to him, immensely remote, a rhythmic plod, plod, plod. Then in a few more minutes the cart was at rest under his window again; they were taking in the bags; bolts shot into their fastenings, a key turned in a lock, and the clerk went back to bed at the top of the house. All was over now. Nothing more would happen until the other clerk came down in a couple of hours" time, until the bags were opened, until Ridgett came yawning from his hired bedroom at the saddler"s across the street, and the new day"s work began. And Dale would be shut out of the work--a director who might not even a.s.sist, a master superseded, a general under arrest in the midst of his army.
He gulped and grew hot. "By Jupiter! I"ll have to tell them what I think of them up there, and please the pigs!"
Then he remembered the pleadings of his wife. She had implored him to keep a tight hold of himself; and in fairness to her he must exercise discretion. She and he were one. With extraordinary tenderness he mentally framed the words that by custom he employed when speaking of her. "She is the wife of my boosum."
For a little while he calmed himself by thinking only of her. Then, tossing and turning and perspiring again, he began to think of his whole life, seeing it as a pageant full of wonder and pathos. Holy Jupiter! how hard it had been at its opening! Everything against him--just a lout among the woodside louts, an orphan baited and lathered by a boozy stepfather, a tortured animal that ran into the thickets for safety, a thing with scarce a value or promise inside it except the little flame of courage that blows could not extinguish!
And yet out of this raw material he had built up the potent, complex, highly-dowered organism known to the world as Mr. Dale of Rodchurch.
There was the pride and glory--from such a start to have reached so magnificent a position. But he could not have done it--not all of it--without Mavis.
It would be unkind to wake this dear bedfellow merely because he himself could not sleep. He clasped his hands behind his head, and by a prolonged effort of will remained motionless. But insomnia was exciting every nerve in his body; each memory seemed to light up the entire labyrinth of his brain; each sense-message came inward like a bomb-sh.e.l.l, reaching with its explosion the highest as well as the deepest centers, discharging circuits of swift fire through every area of a.s.sociated ideas, and so completely shattering the normal congruity between impressions and recognitions that the slight drag of the sheet across his raised toes was sufficient to make him feel again the pressure of thick boots that he had worn years ago when he tramped as new postman on the Manninglea Road.
And each thing that he thought of he saw--hawthorn blossom like snow on the hedgerows, red rhododendrons as vivid as Chinese lanterns in the gloom of the dark copse, the green moss of the rides, the white paint of the gates. The farthest point of his round was Mr.
Barradine"s mansion, and he used to arrive there just before eight o"clock. With the thought came the luminous pictures, and he saw again, as clearly as fifteen years ago, the splendor of the Abbey House--that is, all one can see of it as one approaches its vast servants" offices. Here, solidly real, were the archway, the first and the second courtyard, grouped gables and irregular roof ridges, the belfry tower and its gilded vane; men washing a carriage, a horse drinking at the fountain trough, a dog lying on a sunlit patch of cobble-stones and lazily snapping at flies; a glimpse, through iron scroll work, of terrace bal.u.s.trades, yellow gravel, and lemon-trees in tubs; the oak doors of laundries, drying-rooms, and so forth.
It was here, outside the laundry, that he saw Mavis for the first time; and although the sleeves of her print dress were rolled up and she was carrying a metal skimming dish, something ineffably refined and superior in her deportment led him to believe that she was some lesser member of the august Barradine family, and not one of its hired dependents. He touched his peaked cap, and did not even venture to say "Good morning, miss."
Then he found out about her. She was not quite so grand as all that.
You might say she was a young lady right enough, if you merely counted manners and education; but she had been born far below the level of gentility. She belonged to the Petherick lot; and, living with her aunt at North Ride Cottage, she came every day to the Abbey to do some light and delicate work in Mr. Barradine"s model dairy. The fact that she had lost both her parents interested and pleased Dale: orphanhood seemed to contain the embryonic germs of a mutual sympathy.
He used to speak to her now whenever he saw her. One day they stood talking in the copse, and he showed her their distorted reflections on the curves of her shining cream-dish. She laughed; and that day he was late on his round.
Then somehow he got to a heavy sort of chaff about the letters. She said she liked receiving letters, and she never received enough of them. He used to say, "Good morning, miss. My mate started off with a tremendous heavy bag to-day. I expect the most of it was for you.
You"ll find "em when you get home this evening--shoals of "em."
Walking fast on his round he rehea.r.s.ed such little speeches, and if she made an unantic.i.p.ated answer he was baffled and confused. He suffered from an extreme shyness when face to face with her.
Then all at once his overwhelming admiration gave him a hot flow of language. Beginning the old c.u.mbrous facetiousness about her correspondence, he blurted out the true thoughts that he had begun to entertain.
"You didn"t ought to want for letters, miss, and you wouldn"t--not if I was your letter-writer. I"d send you a valentine every day of the year."
As he spoke, he looked at her with burning eyes. He was astonished, almost terrified by his hardiness; and what he detected of its effect on her threw him into an indescribable state of emotion.
Rough and coa.r.s.e he might be, and yet not truly disagreeable to her fine senses; his freckled face and ma.s.sive shoulders did not repel her; no instinct of the lovely princess turned sick at these advances of the wild man of the woods. Under his scrutiny she showed a sort of fluttered helplessness, a mingling of beauty and weakness that sent fiery messages thrilling through and through him, a pale tremor, a soft glow, a troubled but not offended frown; and from beneath all these surface manifestations the undeveloped woman in her seemed to speak to the matured manhood in him--seemed to say without words, "Oh, dear me, what is this? I hope you haven"t taken a real fancy to my whiteness and slenderness and tremulousness; because if you _have_, you are so big and so strong that I know you"ll get me in the end."
That was the crucial moment of his marvelous life. After that all his dreams fused and became one. He felt as if from soft metal he had changed into hard metal. And, moreover, the stimulus of love seemed to induce a vast intellectual growth; things that had been difficult of comprehension became lucidly clear; prejudices and ignorances fell away from him of their own accord. A shut world had suddenly become an open world.
As a grown man he returned to the benches of evening school. He learned to write his beautiful copper-plate hand, and knocked the bottom out of arithmetic and geography. Then came sheer erudition--the nature of chemical elements, stars in their courses, kings of England with their Magna Chartas and habeas corpuses. Nor content even then, he must needs grapple with Roman emperors and Greek republics, and master the fabled lore concerning G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses, cloven-footed satyrs, and naked nymphs of the grove. But he understood that, in spite of all this culture, in spite, too, of his greater care for costume and his increased employment of soap and water, Mavis was still enormously above him. The aunt, a smooth-tongued little woman whom for a long time he regarded as implacably hostile to his suit, made him measure the height of the dividing s.p.a.ce every time that he called at North Ride Cottage. Plainly trying to crush him with the respectability both of herself and of her surroundings, she showed off all the presents from the Abbey--the china and gla.s.s ornaments, the piano; the photographs of Mr. Barradine on horseback, of the late Lady Evelyn Barradine in her pony-carriage, of Mr. Barradine"s guests with guns waiting to shoot pheasants. And she conducted him into and out of the two choicely upholstered rooms which on certain occasions Mr.
Barradine deigned to occupy for a night or a couple of nights--for instance, when the Abbey House was being painted and he fled the smell of paint, when the Abbey House was closed and he came down from London to see his agent on business, when he wanted to make an early start at the cub-hunting and he couldn"t trust the servants of the Abbey House to rouse him if he slept there.
"Last time of all," and Mrs. Petherick rubbed her hands together and smiled insinuatingly, "he paid me the pretty compliment of saying that I made him more comfortable than he ever is in his own house. I said, "If we can"t let you feel at home here, it"s something new among the Pethericks.""
It seemed that the bond between the humble family and the great one had existed for several generations. It was a tradition that the Pethericks should serve the Barradines. Mavis" grandfather had been second coachman at the Abbey; her aunt"s husband had been valet to Mr.
Everard and made the grand tour of Europe with him; aunt herself was of the Petherick blood, and had been a housemaid at the Abbey. It also seemed to be a tradition that the acknowledgment made by the Barradines for this fidelity of the Pethericks should be boundless in its extent.