Barrie, J M - When A Man's Single

by When A Man's Single

  Will was unusually quiet when he and Greybrooke said adieu to the whole family of Merediths. He was burning to know where the captain had been, and also what Nell called him back to say in such a low tone. What she said was :

  "Don't say anything about going to the Mirror office, Mr. Greybrooke, to Miss Abinger."

  The captain turned round to lift his hat, and at the same time expressed involuntarily a wish that Nell could see him punishing loose bowling.

  Mrs. Meredith beamed to him.

  "There is something very nice," she said to Nell, " about a polite young man."

  "Yes," murmured her daughter, "and even if he isn't polite."

  CHAPTER V.

  ROB MARCHES TO HIS FATE.

  ON the morning before Christmas a murder was committed in Silchester, and in murders there is " lin- eage." In the Mirror office the diary for the day was quickly altered. Kirker set off cheerfully for the scene of the crime, leaving the banquet in the Henry Institute to Tomlinson, who passed on his dinner at Dome Castle to Rob, whose church deco- rations were taken up by John Milton.

  Christmas Eve was coming on in snow when Rob and Walsh, of the Argus, set out for Dome Castle. Rob disliked doing dinners at any time, partly be- cause he had not a dress suit. The dinner was an annual one given by Will's father to his tenants, and .reporters were asked because the colonel made a speech. His neighbors, when they did likewise, sent reports of their own speeches (which they seemed to like) to the papers ; and some of them, having called themselves eloquent and justly popular, scored the compliments out, yet in such a way that the editor would still be able to read them, and print them if he thought fit. Rob did not look forward to Colonel Abinger's reception of him, for they had met some

  months before, and called each other names. 75

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  It was one day soon after Rob reached Silchester. He had gone a-fishing in the Dome and climbed un- consciously into preserved waters. As his creel grew heavier his back straightened ; not until he returned home did the scenery impress him. He had just struck a fine fish, when a soldierly looking man at the top of the steep bank caught sight of him.

  "Hie, you sir!" shouted the onlooker. Whin- went the line there is no music like it. Rob was knee-deep in water. " You fellow !" cried the other, brandishing his cane, " are you aware that this wa- ter is preserved?" Rob had no time for talk. The colonel sought to attract his attention by flinging a pebble. " Don't do that !" cried Rob fiercely.

  Away went the fish. Away went Rob after it. Colonel Abinger's face was red as he clambered down the bank. " I shall prosecute you," he shouted. " He is gone to the bottom ; fling in a stone !" cried Rob. Just then the fish showed its yellow belly and darted off again. Rob let out more line. " No, no," shouted the colonel, who fished himself, " you lose him if he gets to the other side ; strike, man, strike !" The line tightened, the rod bent a glorious sight ! " Force him up stream," cried the colonel, rolling over bowl- ders to assist. "Now, you have him. Bring him in. Where is your landing-net?" "I haven't one," cried Rob; "take him in your hands." The colonel stooped to grasp the fish and missed it. " Bungler I" screamed Rob. This was too much. " Give me your

  ROB MARCHES TO HIS FATE. 77

  name and address," said Colonel Abinger, rising to his feet; "you are a poacher." Rob paid no atten- tion. There was a struggle. Rob did not realize that he had pushed his assailant over a rock until the fish was landed. Then he apologized, offered all his fish in lieu of his name and address, retired coolly so long as the furious soldier was in sight, and as soon as he turned a corner disappeared rapidly. He could not feel that this was the best introduction to the man with whom he was now on his way to dine.

  The reporter whose long strides made Walsh trot as they hurried to Dome Castle was not quite the Rob of three months before. Now he knew how a third-rate newspaper is conducted, and the capacity for wonder had gone from him. He was in danger of thinking that the journalist's art is to write read- ably, authoritatively, and always in three paragraphs on a subject he knows nothing about. Rob had written many leaders, and followed readers through the streets wondering if they liked them Once he had gone with three others to report a bishop's ser- mon. A curate appeared instead, and when the re- porters saw him they shut their note-books and marched blandly out of the cathedral. A public speaker had tried to bribe Rob with two half-crowns, and it is still told in Silchester how the wrathful Scotsman tore his benefactor out of the carriage he had just stepped into, and, lifting him on high, looked

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  around to consider against which stone wall he should hurl him. He had discovered that on the first of the month Mr. Licquorish could not help respecting his staff, because on that day he paid them. Socially Rob had acquired little. Protheroe had introduced him to a pleasant family, but he had sat silent in a corner, and they told the sub-editor not to bring him back. Most of the literary staff were youths trying to be Bohemians, who liked to feel themselves sink- ing, and they never scaled the reserve which walled Rob round. He had taken a sitting, however, in the Scotch church, to the bewilderment of the minister, who said, " But I thought you were a reporter?" as if there must be a mistake somewhere.

  Walsh could tell Rob little of Colonel Abinger. He was a brave soldier, and for many years had been a widower. His elder son was a barrister in London, whom Silchester had almost forgotten, and Walsh fancied there was some story about the daughter's being engaged to a baronet. There was also a boy, who had the other day brought the captain of his school to a Silchester football ground to show the club how to take a drop-kick.

  " Does the colonel fish?" asked Rob, who would, however, have preferred to know if the colonel had a good memory for faces.

  " He is a famous angler," said Walsh; " indeed, I have been told that his bursts of passion are over in five minutes, except when he catches a poacher."

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  Rob winced, for Walsh did not know of the fishing episode.

  " His temper, " continued Walsh, " is such that his male servants are said never to know whether he will give them a shilling or a whirl of his cane until they get it. The gardener takes a look at him from behind a tree before venturing to address him. I suppose his poverty is at the bottom of it, for the estate is mortgaged heavily, and he has had to cut down trees, and even to sell his horses. The tenants seem to like him, though, and if they dared they would tell him not to think himself bound to give them this annual dinner. There are numberless stories of his fierce temper, and as many of his ex- travagant kindness. According to his servants, he once emptied his pocket to a beggar at a railway station, and then discovered that he had no money for his own ticket. As for the ne'er-do-weels, theif importuning makes him rage, but they know he will fling something in the end if they ex pose their rags sufficiently."

  " So," said Rob, who did not want to like the col- onel, " he would not trouble about them if they kept their misery to themselves. That kind of man is more likely to be a philanthropist in your country than in mine."

  " Keep that for a Burns dinner," suggested Walsh.

  Rob heard now how Tomlinson came to be nick- named Umbrage.

  80 WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE.

  " He was sub-editing one night," Walsh explained, " during the time of an African war, and things were going so smoothly that he and Penny were chatting amicably together about the advantage of having a few Latin phrases in a leader, such as dolce far niente, or cela va sans dire "

  "I can believe that," said Rob, "of Penny cer- tainly."

  " Well, in the middle of the discussion an impor- tant war telegram arrived, to the not unnatural dis- gust of both. As is often the case, the message was misspelled, and barely decipherable, and one part of it puzzled Tomlinson a good deal. It read : 'Zulus have taken Umbrage; English forces had to retreat.' Tomlinson searched the map in vain for Umbrage, which the Zulus had taken ; and Penny, being in a hurry, was sure it was a fortress. So they risked it, a
nd next morning the chief lines in the Mirror con- tents bill were: 'LATEST NEWS OF THE WAR; CAP- TURE OF UMBRAGE BY THE ZULUS.'"

  By this time the reporters had passed into the grounds of the castle, and, being late, were hurry- ing up the grand avenue. It was the hour and the season when night comes on so sharply that its shadow may be seen trailing the earth as a breeze runs along a field of corn. Heard from a height the roar of the Dome among rocks might have been the rustle of the surrounding trees in June ; so men and women who grow old together sometimes lend each

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  other a voice. Walsh, seeing his opportunity in Rob's silence, began to speak of himself. He told how his first press- work had been a series of letters he had written when at school, and contributed to a local paper under the signatures of " Paterfamilias " and " An Indignant Ratepayer. " Rob scarcely heard. The bare, romantic scenery impressed him, and the snow in his face was like a whiff of Thrums. He was dreaming, but not of the reception he might get at the castle, when the clatter of horses awoke him.

  "There is a machine behind us," he said, though he would have written trap.

  A brougham lumbered into sight. As its lamps flashed on the pedestrians, the coachman jerked his horses to the side, and Rob had a glimpse of the carriage's occupant. The brougham stopped.

  " I beg your pardon," said the traveller, opening his window, and addressing Rob, " but in the dark- ness I mistook you for Colonel Abinger."

  "We are on our way to the castle," said Walsh, stepping forward.

  "Ah, then, "said the stranger, " perhaps you will give me your company for the short distance we have still to go?"

  There was a fine courtesy in his manner that made the reporters feel their own deficiencies, yet Rob thought the stranger repented his offer as soon as it was made. Walsh had his hand on the door, but

  Rob said :

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  " We are going to Dome Castle as reporters."

  "Oh!" said the stranger. Then he bowed gra- ciously, and pulled up the window. The carriage rumbled on, leaving the reporters looking at each other. Rob laughed. For the first time in his life the advantage a handsome man has over a plain one had struck him. He had only once seen such a face before, and that was in marble in the Silchester Art Museum. This man looked thirty years of age, but there was not a line on his broad, white brow. The face was magnificently classic, from the strong Ro- man nose to the firm chin. The eyes, too beautiful almost for his sex, were brown and wistful, of the kind that droop in disappointment oftener than they blaze with anger. All the hair on his face was a heavy drooping mustache that almost hid his mouth.

  Walsh shook his fist at this insult to the Press.

  " It is the baronet I spoke of to you," he said. " I forget who he is ; indeed, I rather think he travelled incognito when he was here last. I don't under- stand what he is doing here."

  " Why, I should say this is just the place where he would be if he is to marry Miss Abinger."

  "That was an old story," said Walsh. "If there over was an engagement it was broken off. Besides, if he had been expected we should have known of it at the Argus."

  Walsh was right. Sir Clement Dowton was not expected at Dome Castle, and, like Rob, he was not

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  even certain that he would be welcome. As he drew near his destination his hands fidgeted with the win- dow strap, yet there was an unaccountable twinkle in his eye. Had there been any onlookers they would have been surprised to see that all at once the baronet's sense of humor seemed to overcome his fears, and, instead of quaking, he laughed heartily. Sir Clement was evidently one of the men who carry their joke about with them.

  This unexpected guest. did Rob one good turn. When the colonel saw Sir Clement he hesitated for a moment as if not certain how to greet him. Then the baronet, who was effusive, murmured that he had something to say to him, and Colonel Abinger's face cleared. He did Sir Clement the unusual honor of accompanying him upstairs himself, and so Rob got the seat assigned to him at the dinner-table with- out having to meet his host in the face. The butler marched him down a long table with a twist in it, and placed him under arrest, as it were, in a chair from which he saw only a few of the company. The dinner had already begun, but the first thing he realized as he took his seat was that there was a lady on each side of him, and a table-napkin in front. He was not sure if he was expected to address the ladies, and he was still less certain about the table- napkin. Of such things he had read, and he had even tried to be prepared for them. Rob looked ner- vously at the napkin, and then took a covert glance

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  along the table. There was not a napkin in sight except one which a farmer had tied round his neck. Rob's fingers wanted to leave the napkin alone, but by an effort he forced them toward it. All this time his face was a blank, but the internal struggle was sharp. He took hold of the napkin, however, and spread it on his knees. It fell to the floor immedi- ately afterward, but he disregarded that. It was no longer staring at him from the table, and with a heavy sigh of relief he began to feel more at ease. There is nothing like burying our bogies.

  His position prevented Rob's seeing either the colo- nel at the head of the table or Miss Abinger at the foot of it, and even Walsh was hidden from view. But his right-hand neighbor was a local doctor's wife, whom the colonel had wanted to honor without hon- oring too much, and she gave him some information. Rob was relieved to hear her address him, and she was interested in a tame Scotsman.

  " I was once in the far north myself," she said, " as far as Orkney. We were nearly drowned in crossing that dreadful sea between it and the mainland. The Solway Firth, is it?"

  Rob thought for a moment of explaining what sea it is, and then he thought, why should he?

  "Yes, the Solway Firth," he said.

  " It was rather an undertaking," she pursued, " but though we were among the mountains for days, we

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  never encountered any of those robber chieftains one reads about caterans, I think, you call them?"

  "You were very lucky," said Rob.

  "Were we not? But, you know, we took such precautions. There was quite a party of us, includ- ing my father, who has travelled a great deal, and all the gentlemen wore kilts. My father said it was always prudent to do in Rome as the Romans do."

  "I have no doubt," said Rob, "that in that way you escaped the caterans. They are very open to flattery."

  " So my father said. We also found that we could make ourselves understood by saying 'whatever,' and remembering to call the men 'she' and the women 'he.' What a funny custom that is !"

  " We can't get out of it," said Rob.

  "There is one thing," the lady continued, "that you can tell me. I have been told that in winter the wild boars take refuge in the streets of Inverness, and that there are sometimes very exciting hunts after them?"

  " That is only when they run away with children, Rob explained. " Then the natives go out in large bodies and shoot them with claymores. It is a most exciting scene."

  When the doctor's wife learned that this was Rob's first visit to the castle, she told him at once that she was there frequently. It escaped his notice that she

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  paused here and awaited the effect. She was not given to pausing.

  "My husband," she said, "attended on Lady Lou- isa during her last illness quite ten years ago. I was married very young," she added hurriedly.

  Rob was very nearly saying he saw that. The words were in his mouth, when he hesitated, reflect- ing that it was not worth while. This is only noticeable as showing that he missed his first com- pliment.

  " Lady Louisa?" he repeated instead.

  " Oh, yes, the colonel married one of Lord Tarling- ton's daughters. There were seven of them, you know, and no sons, and when the youngest was born it was said that a friend of his lordship sent him a copy of Wo
rdsworth, with the page turned down at the poem, 'We are Seven' a lady friend, I believe."

  " Is Miss Abinger like the colon el?" asked Rob, who had heard it said that she was beautiful, and could not help taking an interest in her in consequence.

  "You have not seen Miss Abinger?" asked the doctor's wife. " Ah, you came late, and that vulgar- looking farmer hides her altogether. She is a lovely girl, but "

  Rob's companion pursed her lips.

  "She is so cold and proud," she added.

  " As proud as her father?" Rob asked, aghast.

  "Oh, the colonel is humility itself beside her. He freezes at times, but she never thaws."

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  Rob sighed involuntarily. He was not aware that his acquaintances spoke in a similar way of him. His eyes wandered up the table till they rested of their own accord on a pretty girl in blue. At that moment she was telling Greybrooke that he could call her Nell, because " Miss " Meredith sounded like a reproach.

  The reporter looked at Nell with satisfaction, and the doctor's wife followed his thoughts so accurately that, before she could check herself, she said, " Do you think so?"

  Then Rob started, which confused both of them, and for the remainder of the dinner the loquacious lady seemed to take less interest in him, he could not understand why. Flung upon his own resources, he remembered that he had not spoken to the lady on his other side. Had Rob only known it, she felt much more uncomfortable in that great dining-room than he did. No one was speaking to her, and she passed the time between the courses breaking her bread to pieces and eating it slowly, crumb by crumb. Rob thought of something to say to her, but when he tried the words over in his own mind they seemed so little worth saying that he had to think again. He found himself counting the crumbs, and then it struck him that he might ask her if she would like any salt. He did so, but she thought he asked for salt, and passed the salt-cellar to him, whereupon Rob, as the simplest way to get out of it, helped