CHAPTER XI
HONOURABLE ENGAGEMENT
For days, after joining the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, Alvina was veryquiet, subdued, and rather remote, sensible of her humiliatingposition as a hanger-on. They none of them took much notice of her.They drifted on, rather disjointedly. The cordiality, the _joie devivre_ did not revive. Madame was a little irritable, and veryexacting, and inclined to be spiteful. Ciccio went his way withGeoffrey.
In the second week, Madame found out that a man had beensurreptitiously inquiring about them at their lodgings, from thelandlady and the landlady's blowsy daughter. It must have been adetective--some shoddy detective. Madame waited. Then she sent Maxover to Mansfield, on some fictitious errand. Yes, the lousy-lookingdogs of detectives had been there too, making the most minuteenquiries as to the behaviour of the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, what theydid, how their sleeping was arranged, how Madame addressed the men,what attitude the men took towards Alvina.
Madame waited again. And again, when they moved to Doncaster, thesame two mongrel-looking fellows were lurking in the street, andplying the inmates of their lodging-house with questions. All theNatchas caught sight of the men. And Madame cleverly wormed out ofthe righteous and respectable landlady what the men had asked. Oncemore it was about the sleeping accommodation--whether the landladyheard anything in the night--whether she noticed anything in thebedrooms, in the beds.
No doubt about it, the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras were under suspicion. Theywere being followed, and watched. What for? Madame made a shrewdguess. "They want to say we are immoral foreigners," she said.
"But what have our personal morals got to do with them?" said Maxangrily.
"Yes--but the English! They are so pure," said Madame.
"You know," said Louis, "somebody must have put them up to it--"
"Perhaps," said Madame, "somebody on account of Allaye."
Alvina went white.
"Yes," said Geoffrey. "White Slave Traffic! Mr. May said it."
Madame slowly nodded.
"Mr. May!" she said. "Mr. May! It is he. He knows all aboutmorals--and immorals. Yes, I know. Yes--yes--yes! He suspects allour immoral doings, _mes braves_."
"But there aren't any, except mine," cried Alvina, pale to the lips.
"You! You! There you are!" Madame smiled archly, and rathermockingly.
"What are we to do?" said Max, pale on the cheekbones.
"Curse them! Curse them!" Louis was muttering, in his rollingaccent.
"Wait," said Madame. "Wait. They will not do anything to us. You areonly dirty foreigners, _mes braves_. At the most they will ask usonly to leave their pure country."
"We don't interfere with none of them," cried Max.
"Curse them," muttered Louis.
"Never mind, _mon cher_. You are in a pure country. Let us wait."
"If you think it's me," said Alvina, "I can go away."
"Oh, my dear, you are only the excuse," said Madame, smilingindulgently at her. "Let us wait, and see."
She took it smilingly. But her cheeks were white as paper, and hereyes black as drops of ink, with anger.
"Wait and see!" she chanted ironically. "Wait and see! If we mustleave the dear country--then _adieu!_" And she gravely bowed to animaginary England.
"I feel it's my fault. I feel I ought to go away," cried Alvina, whowas terribly distressed, seeing Madame's glitter and pallor, and theblack brows of the men. Never had Ciccio's brow looked so ominouslyblack. And Alvina felt it was all her fault. Never had sheexperienced such a horrible feeling: as if something repulsive werecreeping on her from behind. Every minute of these weeks was ahorror to her: the sense of the low-down dogs of detectives hanginground, sliding behind them, trying to get hold of some clear proofof immorality on their part. And then--the unknown vengeance of theauthorities. All the repulsive secrecy, and all the absolute powerof the police authorities. The sense of a great malevolent powerwhich had them all the time in its grip, and was watching, feeling,waiting to strike the morbid blow: the sense of the utterhelplessness of individuals who were not even accused, only watchedand enmeshed! the feeling that they, the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, herselfincluded, must be monsters of hideous vice, to have provoked allthis: and yet the sane knowledge that they, none of them, _were_monsters of vice; this was quite killing. The sight of a policemanwould send up Alvina's heart in a flame of fear, agony; yet she knewshe had nothing legally to be afraid of. Every knock at the door washorrible.
She simply could not understand it. Yet there it was: they werewatched, followed. Of that there was no question. And all she couldimagine was that the troupe was secretly accused of White SlaveTraffic by somebody in Woodhouse. Probably Mr. May had gone theround of the benevolent magnates of Woodhouse, concerning himselfwith her virtue, and currying favour with his concern. Of this shebecame convinced, that it was concern for her virtue which hadstarted the whole business: and that the first instigator was Mr.May, who had got round some vulgar magistrate or County Councillor.
Madame did not consider Alvina's view very seriously. She thought itwas some personal malevolence against the Tawaras themselves,probably put up by some other professionals, with whom Madame wasnot popular.
Be that as it may, for some weeks they went about in the shadow ofthis repulsive finger which was following after them, to touch themand destroy them with the black smear of shame. The men were silentand inclined to be sulky. They seemed to hold together. They seemedto be united into a strong, four-square silence and tension. Theykept to themselves--and Alvina kept to herself--and Madame kept toherself. So they went about.
And slowly the cloud melted. It never broke. Alvina felt that thevery force of the sullen, silent fearlessness and fury in theTawaras had prevented its bursting. Once there had been a weakening,a cringing, they would all have been lost. But their hearts hardenedwith black, indomitable anger. And the cloud melted, it passed away.There was no sign.
Early summer was now at hand. Alvina no longer felt at home with theNatchas. While the trouble was hanging over, they seemed to ignoreher altogether. The men hardly spoke to her. They hardly spoke toMadame, for that matter. They kept within the four-square enclosureof themselves.
But Alvina felt herself particularly excluded, left out. And whenthe trouble of the detectives began to pass off, and the men becamemore cheerful again, wanted her to jest and be familiar with them,she responded verbally, but in her heart there was no response.
Madame had been quite generous with her. She allowed her to pay forher room, and the expense of travelling. But she had her food withthe rest. Wherever she was, Madame bought the food for the party,and cooked it herself. And Alvina came in with the rest: she paid noboard.
She waited, however, for Madame to suggest a small salary--or atleast, that the troupe should pay her living expenses. But Madamedid not make such a suggestion. So Alvina knew that she was not verybadly wanted. And she guarded her money, and watched for some otheropportunity.
It became her habit to go every morning to the public library of thetown in which she found herself, to look through the advertisements:advertisements for maternity nurses, for nursery governesses,pianists, travelling companions, even ladies' maids. For some weeksshe found nothing, though she wrote several letters.
One morning Ciccio, who had begun to hang round her again,accompanied her as she set out to the library. But her heart wasclosed against him.
"Why are you going to the library?" he asked her. It was inLancaster.
"To look at the papers and magazines."
"Ha-a! To find a job, eh?"
His cuteness startled her for a moment.
"If I found one I should take it," she said.
"He! I know that," he said.
It so happened that that very morning she saw on the notice-board ofthe library an announcement that the Borough Council wished toengage the services of an experienced maternity nurse, applicationsto be made to the medical board. Alvina wrote down the directions.Ciccio watched her.
"What is a mate
rnity nurse?" he said.
"An _accoucheuse_!" she said. "The nurse who attends when babies areborn."
"Do you know how to do that?" he said, incredulous, and jeeringslightly.
"I was trained to do it," she said.
He said no more, but walked by her side as she returned to thelodgings. As they drew near the lodgings, he said:
"You don't want to stop with us any more?"
"I can't," she said.
He made a slight, mocking gesture.
"'I can't,'" he repeated. "Why do you always say you can't?"
"Because I can't," she said.
"Pff--!" he went, with a whistling sound of contempt.
But she went indoors to her room. Fortunately, when she had finallycleared her things from Manchester House, she had brought with herher nurse's certificate, and recommendations from doctors. She wroteout her application, took the tram to the Town Hall and dropped itin the letterbox there. Then she wired home to her doctor foranother reference. After which she went to the library and got out abook on her subject. If summoned, she would have to go before themedical board on Monday. She had a week. She read and pondered hard,recalling all her previous experience and knowledge.
She wondered if she ought to appear before the board in uniform. Hernurse's dresses were packed in her trunk at Mrs. Slaney's, inWoodhouse. It was now May. The whole business at Woodhouse wasfinished. Manchester House and all the furniture was sold to someboot-and-shoe people: at least the boot-and-shoe people had thehouse. They had given four thousand pounds for it--which was abovethe lawyer's estimate. On the other hand, the theatre was sold foralmost nothing. It all worked out that some thirty-three pounds,which the creditors made up to fifty pounds, remained for Alvina.She insisted on Miss Pinnegar's having half of this. And so that wasall over. Miss Pinnegar was already in Tamworth, and her little shopwould be opened next week. She wrote happily and excitedly about it.
Sometimes fate acts swiftly and without a hitch. On Thursday Alvinareceived her notice that she was to appear before the Board on thefollowing Monday. And yet she could not bring herself to speak of itto Madame till the Saturday evening. When they were all at supper,she said:
"Madame, I applied for a post of maternity nurse, to the Borough ofLancaster."
Madame raised her eyebrows. Ciccio had said nothing.
"Oh really! You never told me."
"I thought it would be no use if it all came to nothing. They wantme to go and see them on Monday, and then they will decide--"
"Really! Do they! On Monday? And then if you get this work you willstay here? Yes?"
"Yes, of course."
"Of course! Of course! Yes! H'm! And if not?"
The two women looked at each other.
"What?" said Alvina.
"If you _don't_ get it--! You are not _sure_?"
"No," said Alvina. "I am not a bit sure."
"Well then--! Now! And if you don't get it--?"
"What shall I do, you mean?"
"Yes, what shall you do?"
"I don't know."
"How! you don't know! Shall you come back to us, then?"
"I will if you like--"
"If I like! If _I_ like! Come, it is not a question of if _I_ like.It is what do you want to do yourself."
"I feel you don't want me very badly," said Alvina.
"Why? Why do you feel? Who makes you? Which of us makes you feel so?Tell me."
"Nobody in particular. But I feel it."
"Oh we-ell! If nobody makes you, and yet you feel it, it must be inyourself, don't you see? Eh? Isn't it so?"
"Perhaps it is," admitted Alvina.
"We-ell then! We-ell--" So Madame gave her her conge. "But if youlike to come back--if you _laike_--then--" Madame shrugged hershoulders--"you must come, I suppose."
"Thank you," said Alvina.
The young men were watching. They seemed indifferent. Ciccio turnedaside, with his faint, stupid smile.
In the morning Madame gave Alvina all her belongings, from thelittle safe she called her bank.
"There is the money--so--and so--and so--that is correct. Pleasecount it once more!--" Alvina counted it and kept it clutched in herhand. "And there are your rings, and your chain, and yourlocket--see--all--everything--! But not the brooch. Where is thebrooch? Here! Shall I give it back, hein?"
"I gave it to you," said Alvina, offended. She looked into Madame'sblack eyes. Madame dropped her eyes.
"Yes, you gave it. But I thought, you see, as you have now not muchmo-oney, perhaps you would like to take it again--"
"No, thank you," said Alvina, and she went away, leaving Madame withthe red brooch in her plump hand.
"Thank goodness I've given her something valuable," thought Alvinato herself, as she went trembling to her room.
She had packed her bag. She had to find new rooms. She bade good-byeto the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras. Her face was cold and distant, but shesmiled slightly as she bade them good-bye.
"And perhaps," said Madame, "per-haps you will come to Wigantomorrow afternoon--or evening? Yes?"
"Thank you," said Alvina.
She went out and found a little hotel, where she took her room forthe night, explaining the cause of her visit to Lancaster. Her heartwas hard and burning. A deep, burning, silent anger againsteverything possessed her, and a profound indifference to mankind.
And therefore, the next day, everything went as if by magic. She haddecided that at the least sign of indifference from the medicalboard people she would walk away, take her bag, and go toWindermere. She had never been to the Lakes. And Windermere was notfar off. She would not endure one single hint of contumely from anyone else. She would go straight to Windermere, to see the big lake.Why not do as she wished! She could be quite happy by herself amongthe lakes. And she would be absolutely free, absolutely free. Sherather looked forward to leaving the Town Hall, hurrying to take herbag and off to the station and freedom. Hadn't she still got about ahundred pounds? Why bother for one moment? To be quite alone in thewhole world--and quite, quite free, with her hundred pounds--theprospect attracted her sincerely.
And therefore, everything went charmingly at the Town Hall. Themedical board were charming to her--charming. There was nohesitation at all. From the first moment she was engaged. And shewas given a pleasant room in a hospital in a garden, and the matronwas charming to her, and the doctors most courteous.
When could she undertake to commence her duties? When did they wanther? The very _moment_ she could come. She could begin tomorrow--butshe had no uniform. Oh, the matron would lend her uniform andaprons, till her box arrived.
So there she was--by afternoon installed in her pleasant little roomlooking on the garden, and dressed in a nurse's uniform. It was allsudden like magic. She had wired to Madame, she had wired for herbox. She was another person.
Needless to say, she was glad. Needless to say that, in the morning,when she had thoroughly bathed, and dressed in clean clothes, andput on the white dress, the white apron, and the white cap, she feltanother person. So clean, she felt, so thankful! Her skin seemedcaressed and live with cleanliness and whiteness, luminous she felt.It was so different from being with the Natchas.
In the garden the snowballs, guelder-roses, swayed softly amonggreen foliage, there was pink may-blossom, and single scarletmay-blossom, and underneath the young green of the trees, irisesrearing purple and moth-white. A young gardener was working--and aconvalescent slowly trailed a few paces.
Having ten minutes still, Alvina sat down and wrote to Ciccio: "I amglad I have got this post as nurse here. Every one is most kind, andI feel at home already. I feel quite happy here. I shall think of mydays with the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, and of you, who were such astranger to me. Good-bye.--A. H."
This she addressed and posted. No doubt Madame would find occasionto read it. But let her.
Alvina now settled down to her new work. There was of course a greatdeal to do, for she had work both in the hospital and out in thetown, though chiefly o
ut in the town. She went rapidly from case tocase, as she was summoned. And she was summoned at all hours. Sothat it was tiring work, which left her no time to herself, exceptjust in snatches.
She had no serious acquaintance with anybody, she was too busy. Thematron and sisters and doctors and patients were all part of herday's work, and she regarded them as such. The men she chieflyignored: she felt much more friendly with the matron. She had many acup of tea and many a chat in the matron's room, in the quiet, sunnyafternoons when the work was not pressing. Alvina took her quietmoments when she could: for she never knew when she would be rung upby one or other of the doctors in the town.
And so, from the matron, she learned to crochet. It was work she hadnever taken to. But now she had her ball of cotton and her hook, andshe worked away as she chatted. She was in good health, and she wasgetting fatter again. With the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras, she had improveda good deal, her colour and her strength had returned. Butundoubtedly the nursing life, arduous as it was, suited her best.She became a handsome, reposeful woman, jolly with the other nurses,really happy with her friend the matron, who was well-bred and wise,and never over-intimate.
The doctor with whom Alvina had most to do was a Dr. Mitchell, aScotchman. He had a large practice among the poor, and was anenergetic man. He was about fifty-four years old, tall,largely-built, with a good figure, but with extraordinarily largefeet and hands. His face was red and clean-shaven, his eyes blue,his teeth very good. He laughed and talked rather mouthingly.Alvina, who knew what the nurses told her, knew that he had come asa poor boy and bottle-washer to Dr. Robertson, a fellow-Scotchman,and that he had made his way up gradually till he became a doctorhimself, and had an independent practice. Now he was quite rich--anda bachelor. But the nurses did not set their bonnets at him verymuch, because he was rather mouthy and overbearing.
In the houses of the poor he was a great autocrat.
"What is that stuff you've got there!" he inquired largely, seeing abottle of somebody's Soothing Syrup by a poor woman's bedside. "Takeit and throw it down the sink, and the next time you want a soothingsyrup put a little boot-blacking in hot water. It'll do you just asmuch good."
Imagine the slow, pompous, large-mouthed way in which the red-faced,handsomely-built man pronounced these words, and you realize why thepoor set such store by him.
He was eagle-eyed. Wherever he went, there was a scuffle directlyhis foot was heard on the stairs. And he knew they were hidingsomething. He sniffed the air: he glanced round with a sharp eye:and during the course of his visit picked up a blue mug which waspushed behind the looking-glass. He peered inside--and smelled it.
"Stout?" he said, in a tone of indignant inquiry: God-Almighty wouldpresumably take on just such a tone, finding the core of an appleflung away among the dead-nettle of paradise: "Stout! Have you beendrinking stout?" This as he gazed down on the wan mother in the bed.
"They gave me a drop, doctor. I felt that low."
The doctor marched out of the room, still holding the mug in hishand. The sick woman watched him with haunted eyes. The attendantwomen threw up their hands and looked at one another. Was he goingfor ever? There came a sudden smash. The doctor had flung the bluemug downstairs. He returned with a solemn stride.
"There!" he said. "And the next person that gives you stout will bethrown down along with the mug."
"Oh doctor, the bit o' comfort!" wailed the sick woman. "It ud neverdo me no harm."
"Harm! Harm! With a stomach as weak as yours! Harm! Do you knowbetter than I do? What have I come here for? To be told by _you_what will do you harm and what won't? It appears to me you need nodoctor here, you know everything already--"
"Oh no, doctor. It's not like that. But when you feel as if you'dsink through the bed, an' you don't know what to do with yourself--"
"Take a little beef-tea, or a little rice pudding. Take_nourishment_, don't take that muck. Do you hear--" charging uponthe attendant women, who shrank against the wall--"she's to havenothing alcoholic at all, and don't let me catch you giving it her."
"They say there's nobbut fower per cent. i' stout," retorted thedaring female.
"Fower per cent.," mimicked the doctor brutally. "Why, what does anignorant creature like _you_ know about fower per cent."
The woman muttered a little under her breath.
"What? Speak out. Let me hear what you've got to say, my woman. I'veno doubt it's something for my benefit--"
But the affronted woman rushed out of the room, and burst into tearson the landing. After which Dr. Mitchell, mollified, largely toldthe patient how she was to behave, concluding:
"Nourishment! Nourishment is what you want. Nonsense, don't tell meyou can't take it. Push it down if it won't go down by itself--"
"Oh doctor--"
"Don't say _oh doctor_ to me. Do as I tell you. That's _your_business." After which he marched out, and the rattle of his motorcar was shortly heard.
Alvina got used to scenes like these. She wondered why the peoplestood it. But soon she realized that they loved it--particularly thewomen.
"Oh, nurse, stop till Dr. Mitchell's been. I'm scared to death ofhim, for fear he's going to shout at me."
"Why does everybody put up with him?" asked innocent Alvina.
"Oh, he's good-hearted, nurse, he _does_ feel for you."
And everywhere it was the same: "Oh, he's got a heart, you know.He's rough, but he's got a heart. I'd rather have him than yoursmarmy slormin sort. Oh, you feel safe with Dr. Mitchell, I don'tcare what you say."
But to Alvina this peculiar form of blustering, bullying heart whichhad all the women scurrying like chickens was not particularlyattractive.
The men did not like Dr. Mitchell, and would not have him ifpossible. Yet since he was club doctor and panel doctor, they had tosubmit. The first thing he said to a sick or injured labourer,invariably, was:
"And keep off the beer."
"Oh ay!"
"Keep off the beer, or I shan't set foot in this house again."
"Tha's got a red enough face on thee, tha nedna shout."
"My face is red with exposure to all weathers, attending ignorantpeople like you. I never touch alcohol in any form."
"No, an' I dunna. I drink a drop o' beer, if that's what you ca'touchin' alcohol. An' I'm none th' wuss for it, tha sees."
"You've heard what I've told you."
"Ah, I have."
"And if you go on with the beer, you may go on with curing yourself._I_ shan't attend you. You know I mean what I say, Mrs.Larrick"--this to the wife.
"I do, doctor. And I know it's true what you say. An' I'm at himnight an' day about it--"
"Oh well, if he will hear no reason, he must suffer for it. Hemustn't think _I'm_ going to be running after him, if he disobeys myorders." And the doctor stalked off, and the woman began tocomplain.
None the less the women had their complaints against Dr. Mitchell.If ever Alvina entered a clean house on a wet day, she was sure tohear the housewife chuntering.
"Oh my lawk, come in nurse! What a day! Doctor's not been yet. Andhe's bound to come now I've just cleaned up, trapesin' wi' his gretfeet. He's got the biggest understandin's of any man i' Lancaster.My husband says they're the best pair o' pasties i' th' kingdom. An'he does make such a mess, for he never stops to wipe his feet on th'mat, marches straight up your clean stairs--"
"Why don't you tell him to wipe his feet?" said Alvina.
"Oh my word! Fancy me telling him! He'd jump down my throat withboth feet afore I'd opened my mouth. He's not to be spoken to, heisn't. He's my-lord, he is. You mustn't look, or you're done for."
Alvina laughed. She knew they all liked him for browbeating them,and having a heart over and above.
Sometimes he was given a good hit--though nearly always by a man. Ithappened he was in a workman's house when the man was at dinner.
"Canna yer gi'e a man summat better nor this 'ere pap, Missis?" saidthe hairy husband, turning up his nose at the rice pudding.
"Oh go
on," cried the wife. "I hadna time for owt else." Dr.Mitchell was just stooping his handsome figure in the doorway.
"Rice pudding!" he exclaimed largely. "You couldn't have anythingmore wholesome and nourishing. I have a rice pudding every day of mylife--every day of my life, I do."
The man was eating his pudding and pearling his big moustachecopiously with it. He did not answer.
"Do you doctor!" cried the woman. "And never no different."
"Never," said the doctor.
"Fancy that! You're that fond of them?"
"I find they agree with me. They are light and digestible. And mystomach is as weak as a baby's."
The labourer wiped his big moustache on his sleeve.
"Mine _isna_, tha sees," he said, "so pap's no use. 'S watter terme. I want ter feel as I've had summat: a bit o' suetty dumplin' an'a pint o' hale, summat ter fill th' hole up. An' tha'd be th' sameif tha did my work."
"If I did your work," sneered the doctor. "Why I do ten times thework that any one of you does. It's just the work that has ruined mydigestion, the never getting a quiet meal, and never a whole night'srest. When do you think _I_ can sit at table and digest my dinner? Ihave to be off looking after people like you--"
"Eh, tha can ta'e th' titty-bottle wi' thee," said the labourer.
But Dr. Mitchell was furious for weeks over this. It put him in ablack rage to have his great manliness insulted. Alvina was quietlyamused.
The doctor began by being rather lordly and condescending with her.But luckily she felt she knew her work at least as well as he knewit. She smiled and let him condescend. Certainly she neither fearednor even admired him. To tell the truth, she rather disliked him:the great, red-faced bachelor of fifty-three, with his bald spot andhis stomach as weak as a baby's, and his mouthing imperiousness andhis good heart which was as selfish as it could be. Nothing can bemore cocksuredly selfish than a good heart which believes in its ownbeneficence. He was a little too much the teetotaller on the onehand to be so largely manly on the other. Alvina preferred thelabourers with their awful long moustaches that got full of food.And he was a little too loud-mouthedly lordly to be in human goodtaste.
As a matter of fact, he was conscious of the fact that he had risento be a gentleman. Now if a man is conscious of being a _gentleman_,he is bound to be a little less than a _man_. But if he is gnawedwith anxiety lest he may _not_ be a gentleman, he is only pitiable.There is a third case, however. If a man must loftily, by hismanner, assert that he is _now_ a gentleman, he shows himself aclown. For Alvina, poor Dr. Mitchell fell into this third category,of clowns. She tolerated him good-humouredly, as women so oftentolerate ninnies and _poseurs_. She smiled to herself when she sawhis large and important presence on the board. She smiled when shesaw him at a sale, buying the grandest pieces of antique furniture.She smiled when he talked of going up to Scotland, for grouseshooting, or of snatching an hour on Sunday morning, for golf. Andshe talked him over, with quiet, delicate malice, with the matron.He was no favourite at the hospital.
Gradually Dr. Mitchell's manner changed towards her. From hisimperious condescension he took to a tone of uneasy equality. Thisdid not suit him. Dr. Mitchell had no equals: he had only the vaststratum of inferiors, towards whom he exercised his quite profitablebeneficence--it brought him in about two thousand a year: and thenhis superiors, people who had been born with money. It was thetradesmen and professionals who had started at the bottom andclambered to the motor-car footing, who distressed him. Andtherefore, whilst he treated Alvina on this uneasy tradesmanfooting, he felt himself in a false position.
She kept her attitude of quiet amusement, and little by little hesank. From being a lofty creature soaring over her head, he was nowlike a big fish poking its nose above water and making eyes at her.He treated her with rather presuming deference.
"You look tired this morning," he barked at her one hot day.
"I think it's thunder," she said.
"Thunder! Work, you mean," and he gave a slight smile. "I'm going todrive you back."
"Oh no, thanks, don't trouble! I've got to call on the way."
"Where have you got to call?"
She told him.
"Very well. That takes you no more than five minutes. I'll wait foryou. Now take your cloak."
She was surprised. Yet, like other women, she submitted.
As they drove he saw a man with a barrow of cucumbers. He stoppedthe car and leaned towards the man.
"Take that barrow-load of poison and _bury_ it!" he shouted, in hisstrong voice. The busy street hesitated.
"What's that, mister?" replied the mystified hawker.
Dr. Mitchell pointed to the green pile of cucumbers.
"Take that barrow-load of poison, and bury it," he called, "beforeyou do anybody any more harm with it."
"What barrow-load of poison's that?" asked the hawker, approaching.A crowd began to gather.
"What barrow-load of poison is that!" repeated the doctor. "Why yourbarrow-load of cucumbers."
"Oh," said the man, scrutinizing his cucumbers carefully. To besure, some were a little yellow at the end. "How's that? Cumbers isright enough: fresh from market this morning."
"Fresh or not fresh," said the doctor, mouthing his wordsdistinctly, "you might as well put poison into your stomach, asthose things. Cucumbers are the worst thing you can eat."
"Oh!" said the man, stuttering. "That's 'appen for them as doesn'tlike them. I niver knowed a cumber do _me_ no harm, an' I eat 'emlike a happle." Whereupon the hawker took a "cumber" from hisbarrow, bit off the end, and chewed it till the sap squirted."What's wrong with that?" he said, holding up the bitten cucumber.
"I'm not talking about what's wrong with that," said the doctor. "Mybusiness is what's wrong with the stomach it goes into. I'm adoctor. And I know that those things cause me half my work. Theycause half the internal troubles people suffer from in summertime."
"Oh ay! That's no loss to you, is it? Me an' you's partners. Morecumbers I sell, more graft for you, 'cordin' to that. What's wrongthen. _Cum-bers! Fine fresh Cum-berrrs! All fresh and juisty, allcheap and tasty--!_" yelled the man.
"I am a doctor not only to cure illness, but to prevent it where Ican. And cucumbers are poison to everybody."
"_Cum-bers! Cum-bers! Fresh cumbers!_" yelled the man,
Dr. Mitchell started his car.
"When will they learn intelligence?" he said to Alvina, smiling andshowing his white, even teeth.
"I don't care, you know, myself," she said. "I should always letpeople do what they wanted--"
"Even if you knew it would do them harm?" he queried, smiling withamiable condescension.
"Yes, why not! It's their own affair. And they'll do themselves harmone way or another."
"And you wouldn't try to prevent it?"
"You might as well try to stop the sea with your fingers."
"You think so?" smiled the doctor. "I see, you are a pessimist. Youare a pessimist with regard to human nature."
"Am I?" smiled Alvina, thinking the rose would smell as sweet. Itseemed to please the doctor to find that Alvina was a pessimist withregard to human nature. It seemed to give her an air of distinction.In his eyes, she _seemed_ distinguished. He was in a fair way todote on her.
She, of course, when he began to admire her, liked him much better,and even saw graceful, boyish attractions in him. There was reallysomething childish about him. And this something childish, since itlooked up to her as if she were the saving grace, naturallyflattered her and made her feel gentler towards him.
He got in the habit of picking her up in his car, when he could. Andhe would tap at the matron's door, smiling and showing all hisbeautiful teeth, just about tea-time.
"May I come in?" His voice sounded almost flirty.
"Certainly."
"I see you're having tea! Very nice, a cup of tea at this hour!"
"Have one too, doctor."
"I will with pleasure." And he sat down wreathed with smiles. Alvinarose to get a cu
p. "I didn't intend to disturb you, nurse," he said."Men are always intruders," he smiled to the matron.
"Sometimes," said the matron, "women are charmed to be intrudedupon."
"Oh really!" his eyes sparkled. "Perhaps _you_ wouldn't say so,nurse?" he said, turning to Alvina. Alvina was just reaching at thecupboard. Very charming she looked, in her fresh dress and cap andsoft brown hair, very attractive her figure, with its full, softloins. She turned round to him.
"Oh yes," she said. "I quite agree with the matron."
"Oh, you do!" He did not quite know how to take it. "But you mindbeing disturbed at your tea, I am sure."
"No," said Alvina. "We are so used to being disturbed."
"Rather weak, doctor?" said the matron, pouring the tea.
"Very weak, please."
The doctor was a little laboured in his gallantry, but unmistakablygallant. When he was gone, the matron looked demure, and Alvinaconfused. Each waited for the other to speak.
"Don't you think Dr. Mitchell is quite coming out?" said Alvina.
"Quite! _Quite_ the ladies' man! I wonder who it is can be_bringing_ him out. A very praiseworthy work, I am sure." She lookedwickedly at Alvina.
"No, don't look at me," laughed Alvina, "_I_ know nothing about it."
"Do you think it may be _me_!" said the matron, mischievous.
"I'm sure of it, matron! He begins to show some taste at last."
"There now!" said the matron. "I shall put my cap straight." And shewent to the mirror, fluffing her hair and settling her cap.
"There!" she said, bobbing a little curtsey to Alvina.
They both laughed, and went off to work.
But there was no mistake, Dr. Mitchell was beginning to expand. WithAlvina he quite unbent, and seemed even to sun himself when she wasnear, to attract her attention. He smiled and smirked and becameoddly self-conscious: rather uncomfortable. He liked to hang overher chair, and he made a great event of offering her a cigarettewhenever they met, although he himself never smoked. He had a goldcigarette case.
One day he asked her in to see his garden. He had a pleasant oldsquare house with a big walled garden. He showed her his flowers andhis wall-fruit, and asked her to eat his strawberries. He bade heradmire his asparagus. And then he gave her tea in the drawing-room,with strawberries and cream and cakes, of all of which he atenothing. But he smiled expansively all the time. He was a made man:and now he was really letting himself go, luxuriating in everything;above all, in Alvina, who poured tea gracefully from the oldGeorgian tea-pot, and smiled so pleasantly above the Queen Annetea-cups.
And she, wicked that she was, admired every detail of hisdrawing-room. It was a pleasant room indeed, with roses outside theFrench door, and a lawn in sunshine beyond, with bright red flowersin beds. But indoors, it was insistently antique. Alvina admired theJacobean sideboard and the Jacobean arm-chairs and the Hepplewhitewall-chairs and the Sheraton settee and the Chippendale stands andthe Axminster carpet and the bronze clock with Shakespeare andAriosto reclining on it--yes, she even admired Shakespeare on theclock--and the ormolu cabinet and the bead-work foot-stools and thedreadful Sevres dish with a cherub in it and--but why enumerate. Sheadmired _everything_! And Dr. Mitchell's heart expanded in his bosomtill he felt it would burst, unless he either fell at her feet ordid something extraordinary. He had never even imagined what it wasto be so expanded: what a delicious feeling. He could have kissedher feet in an ecstasy of wild expansion. But habit, so far,prevented his doing more than beam.
Another day he said to her, when they were talking of age:
"You are as young as you feel. Why, when I was twenty I felt I hadall the cares and responsibility of the world on my shoulders. Andnow I am middle-aged more or less, I feel as light as if I were justbeginning life." He beamed down at her.
"Perhaps you _are_ only just beginning your _own_ life," she said."You have lived for your work till now."
"It may be that," he said. "It may be that up till now I have livedfor others, for my patients. And now perhaps I may be allowed tolive a little more for myself." He beamed with real luxury, saw thereal luxury of life begin.
"Why shouldn't you?" said Alvina.
"Oh yes, I intend to," he said, with confidence.
He really, by degrees, made up his mind to marry now, and to retirein part from his work. That is, he would hire another assistant,and give himself a fair amount of leisure. He was inordinately proudof his house. And now he looked forward to the treat of his life:hanging round the woman he had made his wife, following her about,feeling proud of her and his house, talking to her from morning tillnight, really finding himself in her. When he had to go his roundsshe would go with him in the car: he made up his mind she would bewilling to accompany him. He would teach her to drive, and theywould sit side by side, she driving him and waiting for him. And hewould run out of the houses of his patients, and find her sittingthere, and he would get in beside her and feel so snug and so sureand so happy as she drove him off to the next case, he informing herabout his work.
And if ever she did not go out with him, she would be there on thedoorstep waiting for him the moment she heard the car. And theywould have long, cosy evenings together in the drawing-room, as heluxuriated in her very presence. She would sit on his knees and theywould be snug for hours, before they went warmly and deliciously tobed. And in the morning he need not rush off. He would loiter aboutwith her, they would loiter down the garden looking at every newflower and every new fruit, she would wear fresh flowery dresses andno cap on her hair, he would never be able to tear himself away fromher. Every morning it would be unbearable to have to tear himselfaway from her, and every hour he would be rushing back to her. Theywould be simply everything to one another. And how he would enjoyit! Ah!
He pondered as to whether he would have children. A child would takeher away from him. That was his first thought. But then--! Ah well,he would have to leave it till the time. Love's young dream is neverso delicious as at the virgin age of fifty-three.
But he was quite cautious. He made no definite advances till he hadput a plain question. It was August Bank Holiday, that for everblack day of the declaration of war, when his question was put. Forthis year of our story is the fatal year 1914.
There was quite a stir in the town over the declaration of war. Butmost people felt that the news was only intended to give an extrathrill to the all-important event of Bank Holiday. Half the worldhad gone to Blackpool or Southport, the other half had gone to theLakes or into the country. Lancaster was busy with a sort of fete,notwithstanding. And as the weather was decent, everybody was in areal holiday mood.
So that Dr. Mitchell, who had contrived to pick up Alvina at theHospital, contrived to bring her to his house at half-past three,for tea.
"What do you think of this new war?" said Alvina.
"Oh, it will be over in six weeks," said the doctor easily. Andthere they left it. Only, with a fleeting thought, Alvina wonderedif it would affect the Natcha-Kee-Tawaras. She had never heard anymore of them.
"Where would you have liked to go today?" said the doctor, turningto smile at her as he drove the car.
"I think to Windermere--into the Lakes," she said.
"We might make a tour of the Lakes before long," he said. She wasnot thinking, so she took no particular notice of the speech.
"How nice!" she said vaguely.
"We could go in the car, and take them as we chose," said thedoctor.
"Yes," she said, wondering at him now.
When they had had tea, quietly and gallantly tete-a-tete in hisdrawing-room, he asked her if she would like to see the other roomsof the house. She thanked him, and he showed her the substantial oakdining-room, and the little room with medical works and a revolvingchair, which he called his study: then the kitchen and the pantry,the housekeeper looking askance; then upstairs to his bedroom, whichwas very fine with old mahogany tall-boys and silver candle-stickson the dressing-table, and brushes with green ivory backs, and ahygienic w
hite bed and straw mats: then the visitors' bedroomcorresponding, with its old satin-wood furniture and cream-colouredchairs with large, pale-blue cushions, and a pale carpet withreddish wreaths. Very nice, lovely, awfully nice, I do like that,isn't that beautiful, I've never seen anything like that! came thegratifying fireworks of admiration from Alvina. And he smiled andgloated. But in her mind she was thinking of Manchester House, andhow dark and horrible it was, how she hated it, but how it hadimpressed Ciccio and Geoffrey, how they would have loved to feelthemselves masters of it, and how done in the eye they were. Shesmiled to herself rather grimly. For this afternoon she was feelingunaccountably uneasy and wistful, yearning into the distance again:a trick she thought she had happily lost.
The doctor dragged her up even to the slanting attics. He was a bigman, and he always wore navy blue suits, well-tailored andimmaculate. Unconsciously she felt that big men in good navy-bluesuits, especially if they had reddish faces and rather big feet andif their hair was wearing thin, were a special type all tothemselves, solid and rather namby-pamby and tiresome.
"What very nice attics! I think the many angles which the roofmakes, the different slants, you know, are so attractive. Oh, andthe fascinating little window!" She crouched in the hollow of thesmall dormer window. "Fascinating! See the town and the hills! Iknow I should want this room for my own."
"Then have it," he said. "Have it for _one_ of your own."
She crept out of the window recess and looked up at him. He wasleaning forward to her, smiling, self-conscious, tentative, andeager. She thought it best to laugh it off.
"I was only talking like a child, from the imagination," she said.
"I quite understand that," he replied deliberately. "But I amspeaking what I _mean_--"
She did not answer, but looked at him reproachfully. He was smilingand smirking broadly at her.
"Won't you marry me, and come and have this garret for your own?" Hespoke as if he were offering her a chocolate. He smiled with curiousuncertainty.
"I don't know," she said vaguely.
His smile broadened.
"Well now," he said, "make up your mind. I'm not good at _talking_about love, you know. But I think I'm pretty good at _feeling_ it,you know. I want you to come here and be happy: with me." He addedthe two last words as a sort of sly post-scriptum, and as if tocommit himself finally.
"But I've never thought about it," she said, rapidly cogitating.
"I know you haven't. But think about it now--" He began to be hugelypleased with himself. "Think about it now. And tell me if you couldput up with _me_, as well as the garret." He beamed and put his heada little on one side--rather like Mr. May, for one second. But hewas much more dangerous than Mr. May. He was overbearing, and hadthe devil's own temper if he was thwarted. This she knew. He was abig man in a navy blue suit, with very white teeth.
Again she thought she had better laugh it off.
"It's you I _am_ thinking about," she laughed, flirting still. "It'syou I _am_ wondering about."
"Well," he said, rather pleased with himself, "you wonder about metill you've made up your mind--"
"I will--" she said, seizing the opportunity. "I'll wonder about youtill I've made up my mind--shall I?"
"Yes," he said. "That's what I wish you to do. And the next time Iask you, you'll let me know. That's it, isn't it?" He smiledindulgently down on her: thought her face young and charming,charming.
"Yes," she said. "But don't ask me too soon, will you?"
"How, too soon--?" He smiled delightedly.
"You'll give me time to wonder about you, won't you? You won't askme again this month, will you?"
"This month?" His eyes beamed with pleasure. He enjoyed theprocrastination as much as she did. "But the month's only justbegun! However! Yes, you shall have your way. I won't ask you againthis month."
"And I'll promise to wonder about you all the month," she laughed.
"That's a bargain," he said.
They went downstairs, and Alvina returned to her duties. She wasvery much excited, very much excited indeed. A big, well-to-do manin a navy blue suit, of handsome appearance, aged fifty-three, withwhite teeth and a delicate stomach: it _was_ exciting. A sureposition, a very nice home and lovely things in it, once they weredragged about a bit. And of course he'd adore her. That went withoutsaying. She was as fussy as if some one had given her a lovely newpair of boots. She was really fussy and pleased with herself: and_quite_ decided she'd take it all on. That was how it put itself toher: she would take it all on.
Of course there was the man himself to consider. But he was quitepresentable. There was nothing at all against it: nothing at all. Ifhe had pressed her during the first half of the month of August, hewould almost certainly have got her. But he only beamed inanticipation.
Meanwhile the stir and restlessness of the war had begun, and wasmaking itself felt even in Lancaster. And the excitement and theunease began to wear through Alvina's rather glamorous fussiness.Some of her old fretfulness came back on her. Her spirit, which hadbeen as if asleep these months, now woke rather irritably, andchafed against its collar. Who was this elderly man, that she shouldmarry him? Who was he, that she should be kissed by him. Actuallykissed and fondled by him! Repulsive. She avoided him like theplague. Fancy reposing against his broad, navy blue waistcoat! Shestarted as if she had been stung. Fancy seeing his red, smiling facejust above hers, coming down to embrace her! She pushed it away withher open hand. And she ran away, to avoid the thought.
And yet! And yet! She would be so comfortable, she would be sowell-off for the rest of her life. The hateful problem of materialcircumstance would be solved for ever. And she knew well how hatefulmaterial circumstances can make life.
Therefore, she could not decide in a hurry. But she bore poor Dr.Mitchell a deep grudge, that he could not grant her all theadvantages of his offer, and excuse her the acceptance of himhimself. She dared not decide in a hurry. And this very fear, like ayoke on her, made her resent the man who drove her to decision.
Sometimes she rebelled. Sometimes she laughed unpleasantly in theman's face: though she dared not go _too_ far: for she was a littleafraid of him and his rabid temper, also. In her moments of sullenrebellion she thought of Natcha-Kee-Tawara. She thought of themdeeply. She wondered where they were, what they were doing, how thewar had affected them. Poor Geoffrey was a Frenchman--he would haveto go to France to fight. Max and Louis were Swiss, it would notaffect them: nor Ciccio, who was Italian. She wondered if the troupewas in England: if they would continue together when Geoffrey wasgone. She wondered if they thought of her. She felt they did. Shefelt they did not forget her. She felt there was a connection.
In fact, during the latter part of August she wondered a good dealmore about the Natchas than about Dr. Mitchell. But wondering aboutthe Natchas would not help her. She felt, if she knew where theywere, she would fly to them. But then she knew she wouldn't.
When she was at the station she saw crowds and bustle. People wereseeing their young men off. Beer was flowing: sailors on the trainwere tipsy: women were holding young men by the lapel of the coat.And when the train drew away, the young men waving, the women criedaloud and sobbed after them.
A chill ran down Alvina's spine. This was another matter, apart fromher Dr. Mitchell. It made him feel very unreal, trivial. She did notknow what she was going to do. She realized she must dosomething--take some part in the wild dislocation of life. She knewthat she would put off Dr. Mitchell again.
She talked the matter over with the matron. The matron advised herto procrastinate. Why not volunteer for war-service? True, she was amaternity nurse, and this was hardly the qualification needed forthe nursing of soldiers. But still, she _was_ a nurse.
Alvina felt this was the thing to do. Everywhere was a stir and aseethe of excitement. Men were active, women were needed too. Sheput down her name on the list of volunteers for active service. Thiswas on the last day of August.
On the first of September Dr. Mitchell was ro
und at the hospitalearly, when Alvina was just beginning her morning duties there. Hewent into the matron's room, and asked for Nurse Houghton. Thematron left them together.
The doctor was excited. He smiled broadly, but with a tension ofnervous excitement. Alvina was troubled. Her heart beat fast.
"Now!" said Dr. Mitchell. "What have you to say to me?"
She looked up at him with confused eyes. He smiled excitedly andmeaningful at her, and came a little nearer.
"Today is the day when you answer, isn't it?" he said. "Now then,let me hear what you have to say."
But she only watched him with large, troubled eyes, and did notspeak. He came still nearer to her.
"Well then," he said, "I am to take it that silence gives consent."And he laughed nervously, with nervous anticipation, as he tried toput his arm round her. But she stepped suddenly back.
"No, not yet," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"I haven't given my answer," she said.
"Give it then," he said, testily.
"I've volunteered for active service," she stammered. "I felt Iought to do something."
"Why?" he asked. He could put a nasty intonation into thatmonosyllable. "I should have thought you would answer _me_ first."
She did not answer, but watched him. She did not like him.
"I only signed yesterday," she said.
"Why didn't you leave it till tomorrow? It would have lookedbetter." He was angry. But he saw a half-frightened, half-guiltylook on her face, and during the weeks of anticipation he had workedhimself up.
"But put that aside," he smiled again, a little dangerously. "Youhave still to answer my question. Having volunteered for war servicedoesn't prevent your being engaged to me, does it?"
Alvina watched him with large eyes. And again he came very near toher, so that his blue-serge waistcoat seemed, to impinge on her, andhis purplish red face was above her.
"I'd rather not be engaged, under the circumstances," she said.
"Why?" came the nasty monosyllable. "What have the circumstances gotto do with it?"
"Everything is so uncertain," she said. "I'd rather wait."
"Wait! Haven't you waited long enough? There's nothing at all toprevent your getting engaged to me now. Nothing whatsoever! Comenow. I'm old enough not to be played with. And I'm much too much inlove with you to let you go on indefinitely like this. Come now!" Hesmiled imminent, and held out his large hand for her hand. "Let meput the ring on your finger. It will be the proudest day of my lifewhen I make you my wife. Give me your hand--"
Alvina was wavering. For one thing, mere curiosity made her want tosee the ring. She half lifted her hand. And but for the knowledgethat he would kiss her, she would have given it. But he would kissher--and against that she obstinately set her will. She put her handbehind her back, and looked obstinately into his eyes.
"Don't play a game with me," he said dangerously.
But she only continued to look mockingly and obstinately into hiseyes.
"Come," he said, beckoning for her to give her hand.
With a barely perceptible shake of the head, she refused, staring athim all the time. His ungovernable temper got the better of him. Hesaw red, and without knowing, seized her by the shoulder, swung herback, and thrust her, pressed her against the wall as if he wouldpush her through it. His face was blind with anger, like a hot, redsun. Suddenly, almost instantaneously, he came to himself again anddrew back his hands, shaking his right hand as if some rat hadbitten it.
"I'm sorry!" he shouted, beside himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't meanit. I'm sorry." He dithered before her.
She recovered her equilibrium, and, pale to the lips, looked at himwith sombre eyes.
"I'm sorry!" he continued loudly, in his strange frenzy like a smallboy. "Don't remember! Don't remember! Don't think I did it."
His face was a kind of blank, and unconsciously he wrung the handthat had gripped her, as if it pained him. She watched him, andwondered why on earth all this frenzy. She was left rather cold, shedid not at all feel the strong feelings he seemed to expect of her.There was nothing so very unnatural, after all, in being bumped upsuddenly against the wall. Certainly her shoulder hurt where he hadgripped it. But there were plenty of worse hurts in the world. Shewatched him with wide, distant eyes.
And he fell on his knees before her, as she backed against thebookcase, and he caught hold of the edge of her dress-bottom,drawing it to him. Which made her rather abashed, and much moreuncomfortable.
"Forgive me!" he said. "Don't remember! Forgive me! Love me! Loveme! Forgive me and love me! Forgive me and love me!"
As Alvina was looking down dismayed on the great, red-faced, elderlyman, who in his crying-out showed his white teeth like a child, andas she was gently trying to draw her skirt from his clutch, thedoor opened, and there stood the matron, in her big frilled cap.Alvina glanced at her, flushed crimson and looked down to the man.She touched his face with her hand.
"Never mind," she said. "It's nothing. Don't think about it."
He caught her hand and clung to it.
"Love me! Love me! Love me!" he cried.
The matron softly closed the door again, withdrawing.
"Love me! Love me!"
Alvina was absolutely dumbfounded by this scene. She had no idea mendid such things. It did not touch her, it dumbfounded her.
The doctor, clinging to her hand, struggled to his feet and flunghis arms round her, clasping her wildly to him.
"You love me! You love me, don't you?" he said, vibrating and besidehimself as he pressed her to his breast and hid his face against herhair. At such a moment, what was the good of saying she didn't? Butshe didn't. Pity for his shame, however, kept her silent, motionlessand silent in his arms, smothered against the blue-serge waistcoatof his broad breast.
He was beginning to come to himself. He became silent. But he stillstrained her fast, he had no idea of letting her go.
"You will take my ring, won't you?" he said at last, still in thestrange, lamentable voice. "You will take my ring."
"Yes," she said coldly. Anything for a quiet emergence from thisscene.
He fumbled feverishly in his pocket with one hand, holding her stillfast by the other arm. And with one hand he managed to extract thering from its case, letting the case roll away on the floor. It wasa diamond solitaire.
"Which finger? Which finger is it?" he asked, beginning to smilerather weakly. She extricated her hand, and held out her engagementfinger. Upon it was the mourning-ring Miss Frost had always worn.The doctor slipped the diamond solitaire above the mourning ring,and folded Alvina to his breast again.
"Now," he said, almost in his normal voice. "Now I know you loveme." The pleased self-satisfaction in his voice made her angry. Shemanaged to extricate herself.
"You will come along with me now?" he said.
"I can't," she answered. "I must get back to my work here."
"Nurse Allen can do that."
"I'd rather not."
"Where are you going today?"
She told him her cases.
"Well, you will come and have tea with me. I shall expect you tohave tea with me every day."
But Alvina was straightening her crushed cap before the mirror, anddid not answer.
"We can see as much as we like of each other now we're engaged," hesaid, smiling with satisfaction.
"I wonder where the matron is," said Alvina, suddenly going into thecool white corridor. He followed her. And they met the matron justcoming out of the ward.
"Matron!" said Dr. Mitchell, with a return of his old mouthingimportance. "You may congratulate Nurse Houghton and me on ourengagement--" He smiled largely.
"I may congratulate _you_, you mean," said the matron.
"Yes, of course. And both of us, since we are now one," he replied.
"Not quite, yet," said the matron gravely.
And at length she managed to get rid of him.
At once she went to look for Alvina, who had
gone to her duties.
"Well, I _suppose_ it is all right," said the matron gravely.
"No it isn't," said Alvina. "I shall _never_ marry him."
"Ah, never is a long while! Did he hear me come in?"
"No, I'm sure he didn't."
"Thank goodness for that."
"Yes indeed! It was perfectly horrible. Following me round on hisknees and shouting for me to love him! Perfectly horrible!"
"Well," said the matron. "You never know what men will do tillyou've known them. And then you need be surprised at nothing,_nothing_. I'm surprised at nothing they do--"
"I must say," said Alvina, "I was surprised. Very unpleasantly."
"But you accepted him--"
"Anything to quieten him--like a hysterical child."
"Yes, but I'm not sure you haven't taken a very risky way ofquietening him, giving him what he wanted--"
"I think," said Alvina, "I can look after myself. I may be moved anyday now."
"Well--!" said the matron. "He may prevent your getting moved, youknow. He's on the board. And if he says you are indispensable--"
This was a new idea for Alvina to cogitate. She had counted on aspeedy escape. She put his ring in her apron pocket, and there sheforgot it until he pounced on her in the afternoon, in the house ofone of her patients. He waited for her, to take her off.
"Where is your ring?" he said.
And she realized that it lay in the pocket of a soiled, discardedapron--perhaps lost for ever.
"I shan't wear it on duty," she said. "You know that."
She had to go to tea with him. She avoided his love-making, bytelling him any sort of spooniness revolted her. And he was too muchan old bachelor to take easily to a fondling habit--before marriage,at least. So he mercifully left her alone: he was on the wholedevoutly thankful she wanted to be left alone. But he wanted her tobe there. That was his greatest craving. He wanted her to be alwaysthere. And so he craved for marriage: to possess her entirely, andto have her always there with him, so that he was never alone. Aloneand apart from all the world: but by her side, always by her side.
"Now when shall we fix the marriage?" he said. "It is no goodputting it back. We both know what we are doing. And now theengagement is announced--"
He looked at her anxiously. She could see the hysterical little boyunder the great, authoritative man.
"Oh, not till after Christmas!" she said.
"After Christmas!" he started as if he had been bitten. "Nonsense!It's nonsense to wait so long. Next month, at the latest."
"Oh no," she said. "I don't think so soon."
"Why not? The sooner the better. You had better send in yourresignation at once, so that you're free."
"Oh but is there any need? I may be transferred for war service."
"That's not likely. You're our only maternity nurse--"
And so the days went by. She had tea with him practically everyafternoon, and she got used to him. They discussed the furnishing--shecould not help suggesting a few alterations, a few arrangementsaccording to _her_ idea. And he drew up a plan of a wedding tour inScotland. Yet she was quite certain she would not marry him. The matronlaughed at her certainty. "You will drift into it," she said. "He istying you down by too many little threads."
"Ah, well, you'll see!" said Alvina.
"Yes," said the matron. "I _shall_ see."
And it was true that Alvina's will was indeterminate, at this time.She was _resolved_ not to marry. But her will, like a spring that ishitched somehow, did not fly direct against the doctor. She had sentin her resignation, as he suggested. But not that she might be freeto marry him, but that she might be at liberty to flee him. So shetold herself. Yet she worked into his hands.
One day she sat with the doctor in the car near the station--it wastowards the end of September--held up by a squad of soldiers inkhaki, who were marching off with their band wildly playing, toembark on the special troop train that was coming down from thenorth. The town was in great excitement. War-fever was spreadingeverywhere. Men were rushing to enlist--and being constantlyrejected, for it was still the days of regular standards.
As the crowds surged on the pavement, as the soldiers tramped to thestation, as the traffic waited, there came a certain flow in theopposite direction. The 4:15 train had come in. People werestruggling along with luggage, children were running with spades andbuckets, cabs were crawling along with families: it was the seasidepeople coming home. Alvina watched the two crowds mingle.
And as she watched she saw two men, one carrying a mandoline caseand a suit-case which she knew. It was Ciccio. She did not know theother man; some theatrical individual. The two men halted almostnear the car, to watch the band go by. Alvina saw Ciccio quite nearto her. She would have liked to squirt water down his brown,handsome, oblivious neck. She felt she hated him. He stood there,watching the music, his lips curling in his faintly-derisive Italianmanner, as he talked to the other man. His eyelashes were as longand dark as ever, his eyes had still the attractive look of beingset in with a smutty finger. He had got the same brownish suit on,which she disliked, the same black hat set slightly, jauntily overone eye. He looked common: and yet with that peculiar southernaloofness which gave him a certain beauty and distinction in hereyes. She felt she hated him, rather. She felt she had been let downby him.
The band had passed. A child ran against the wheel of the standingcar. Alvina suddenly reached forward and made a loud, screechingflourish on the hooter. Every one looked round, including the laden,tramping soldiers.
"We can't move yet," said Dr. Mitchell.
But Alvina was looking at Ciccio at that moment. He had turned withthe rest, looking inquiringly at the car. And his quick eyes, thewhites of which showed so white against his duskiness, the yellowpupils so non-human, met hers with a quick flash of recognition. Hismouth began to curl in a smile of greeting. But she stared at himwithout moving a muscle, just blankly stared, abstracting everyscrap of feeling, even of animosity or coldness, out of her gaze.She saw the smile die on his lips, his eyes glance sideways, andagain sideways, with that curious animal shyness which characterizedhim. It was as if he did not want to see her looking at him, and ranfrom side to side like a caged weasel, avoiding her blank, glaucouslook.
She turned pleasantly to Dr. Mitchell.
"What did you say?" she asked sweetly.
The Lost Girl Page 13