The Bond of Black

by William Le Queux

afternoon arrived home to find that myfather had been thrown from his horse, while riding towards Deene by abridlepath, and was lying in a dangerous condition, with my old friendDr Lewis, of Cliffe, and Dr Richardson, of Stamford, in attendanceupon him. As may be imagined, my mother was in a state of terribleanxiety, and I at once telegraphed to my sister, who had left Beaulieulong before, and was now at Bournemouth. Next morning she arrived, butby that time my father had taken a turn for the better, and Dr Lewis,who was untiring in his attention, declared that the turning point waspast and that he would recover. A good fellow was Lewis; a hardworking,careful, good-natured bachelor, who was known and respected throughoutthe whole countryside, because of his merry demeanour, the great painshe took with even the poorest, and the skill with which he treated oneand all of his patients, from Countess to farm-labourer. Besides which,he was a remarkable whist player.

  On the day of my arrival I feared the worst, but when I had been atTixover for a day or two it was apparent that my father would recover,therefore all our spirits rose again, and one evening after dinner Iwent up to Mrs Walker's to have a smoke with Yelverton.

  He greeted me with the cordiality of the old days at Wadham as I wasushered in, produced the inevitable whiskey from the cupboard, and wesettled down to chat.

  He related to me the principal local events of the past month, but withthe air of one who was already tired of rusticating.

  I remarked upon his apparent apathy, and in reply he said--

  "I regret that I left London. All my interests were centred there. Itwas only my health which compelled me to give it up. But I suppose Ishall go back some day," and he sighed and resumed the briar pipe he hadbeen smoking when I entered.

  On the table was a blotting-pad and some manuscript. He had tried thatday to write his sermon, but was unable. He had been smoking andmeditating instead.

  "And as soon as you have got strong again you mean to leave us and goback to a London parish!" I exclaimed. "That's too bad. I hear youare getting on famously here."

  "Getting on!" he repeated wearily. "Yes, and that's about all. My worklies in London. I'm not fitted for a country parson, because I can't beidle. I feel as if I must be always energetic; and too much energy onthe part of a country curate generally causes his vicar annoyance. Manyvicars think energy undignified."

  "But, my dear fellow," I exclaimed, "if you're not well--and I seeyou're not well by your face and manner--why don't you take thingseasily? You need not kill yourself, surely! London seems to have aremarkable attraction for you. Surely life is much healthier here."

  "Yes, you're right," he answered in a clear voice. "There is anattraction for me in London," and he looked into my face with a curiousexpression.

  "An attraction outside your work?" I suggested. He hesitated. Then,suddenly, he answered--

  "Yes. Why need I conceal it from you, Clifton? It is a woman."

  "And you are in love?" I exclaimed.

  "Yes," he responded, in a low tone. "But, hush! Not so loud. No onemust know it here."

  "Of course not. If you wish, it shall remain a secret with me," I said."Are you engaged?"

  "Oh no!" he exclaimed. "I love her, but have not yet spoken. I willtell you the truth; then you can advise me," and he paused. At last,continuing, he said: "When I joined the Church I made a solemn vow toGod of celibacy; not because I hated women, but because I consideredthat my work, if done conscientiously, as I intended to do it, should bemy sole thought. Mine is perhaps a rather extreme view, but I cannotthink that a man can work for his Master with that thoroughness if hehas a woman to love and cherish as when he is a bachelor and alone.Some may say that woman's influence upon man is softening andhumanising; but I hold that the man who is single can apply himself moredevoutly to his fellow-creatures than he who has home ties and familyaffairs. Well, I took Holy Orders and set myself to work. I know I amnot a brilliant preacher, nor have I that gift of self-advertisementwhich some men cultivate by lecturing with limelight views; but I doknow that I strove to act as servant to the Master I had elected toserve, and the thanks of the grateful poor and the knowledge that morethan one person had been brought to repentance by my words, were morethan sufficient repayment for my efforts. Time went on, and I becamedeeply absorbed in my work in those foetid slums, until one day Ichanced to meet a woman who in an instant entranced me by her beauty.She gave me but a passing glance, but her eyes kindled in my soul thefire of love. We men are, indeed, frail creatures, for in a moment allmy good resolutions fell to the ground, and I felt myself devoted toher. We met again, and again. I admired her. I saw how beautiful shewas, and then found myself thinking more of her than of the Master whomI was serving. True it is, as it is written, `No man can serve twomasters,'" and he sighed heavily, and sat dejected, his chin upon hisbreast.

  "And then?" I inquired.

  "Some months went by," he said. "She was aware how deeply I had thewelfare of the poor in my parish at heart, and in order, I suppose, toplease me, she enrolled herself as a helper. Instead of pleasing me,however, this action of hers caused me loathing. I saw that she hadonly done this in order to be nearer me; that her pretence of religiousfervour was feigned, in order that her actions might not appearirregular to the outside world. Ours was a mutual love, yet no word ofaffection had ever passed our lips. But I could not bear to be a partyto this masquerade. A woman who took up arduous duties like she did,merely because `slumming,' as it was called, happened to be thefashionable craze of the moment, was in no way fitted to become the wifeof one whose duty lay ever in the homes of the suffering and needy. Itried to shake off her acquaintance, to discourage her, to frighten herby exaggerated stories of infectious disease, but she would not listen.She was determined, she declared, `to work for the Church,' andencouraged by the vicar, continued to do so. I strove to live down myincreasing admiration for her, but could not. Time after time I treatedher with unpardonable rudeness, but she merely smiled, and was moretenacious than ever, until at last, in sheer desperation, I resigned,and came here. Now you know all the truth, Clifton," he added, in alower tone. "I came down here to escape her!"

  "And yet you are ready to again return to London--you want to get backagain," I observed.

  "Ah! yes!" he sighed, the dark look still upon his face. "It is mytest. I have to choose between love and duty."

  "And you choose the latter?"

  "I am trying to do so. With God's help I hope to succeed," he answered,in a hoarse voice. "If love proves too strong, then I fall back to thelevel from which I have striven to rise--the level of the ordinary man."

  "But are you certain you were not mistaken in the object of the lady injoining the work in which you were engaged? May not she have beendetermined to become self-sacrificing in the holy cause, just as youwere?"

  "No," he answered very decisively, "I cannot believe it. There werefacts which were suspicious."

  "What kind of facts?"

  "In various ways she betrayed her insincerity of purpose," he answered."Her friends were wealthy, and the vicar was acute enough to see that ifshe were encouraged she would bring additional funds to the church. Butthe poor themselves, always quick to recognise true sincerity, very soondiscerned that she visited them without having their welfare at heart,and consequently imposed upon her."

  There was nothing sanctimonious or puritanical about Jack Yelverton.The words he uttered came direct from his faithful, honest heart.

  "And yet you love her!" I remarked, amazed. "That's just it. Myadmiration of her grace and beauty ripened into love before I was awareof it. I struggled against it, but became overwhelmed. Had she notfeigned sincerity and taken up the work that I was doing, I should, Ibelieve, have proposed marriage to her. But her action in trying toappear solicitous after the welfare of the sick, when I knew that herthoughts were all of the world, caused me a revulsion of feeling whichended in my resignation and escape."

  "Escape!" I echoed. "One would think that you
had fled from somefeared catastrophe."

  "I did fear a catastrophe," he declared. "I feared that I should marryand become devoted to my wife, instead of to my Master. Ah! Clifton,mine is a strange, a very strange position. You may think my wordsextremely foolish, but you cannot understand the circumstances aright.If you did, you would see why I acted as I have done."

  "You acted quite wisely, I think," said I. "None could blame you forseeking a country curacy in such circumstances. To be thus run after bya woman is positively sickening."

  "Ah, there you are mistaken!" he exclaimed quickly. "She