“Oh, Noah, don’t be so discouraging!” But she laughed delightedly.
“I suppose you’re going with Mr. Maurice, miss,” said Wright. “I well remember when I took him over.”
“Yes. And Uncle Finch is coming, too.” She eyed the gingerbread.
“Like a piece, Miss Adeline?” asked the cook.
“I shall be taking the tea upstairs directly,” said Rags.
“Don’t be so mean, Rags.” Adeline jumped from the sill and came to the table. “Not on a plate, please, Mrs. Wragge. Just in my hand.”
She returned to her perch eating the gingerbread. The April sun which had not before shown itself that day now burst out strong and made a brilliant halo about the girl’s head. The five seated about the table stared at her in pleasure as they might without embarrassment stare at a young doe in its early grace and beauty. Their hands lay on the table relaxed or held the handles of their cups. Beneath the table their feet were disposed in characteristic attitudes. Mrs. Wragge’s in red woollen slippers toed inward, the calves bulging sharply from the ankles; her husband’s, neat in black shoes, were planted side by side; Noah Binns’ ankles were interlocked and his shabby overshoes seemed to have absorbed moisture rather than cast it off; Wright’s legs were outstretched and ended in leather leggings and thick-soled, well-oiled shoes; while Raikes’ top-boots were drawn back on either side of his chair, thus disposing of his long legs. So characteristic were those nether parts that an observer seeing them separate from the upper parts could have linked them without difficulty.
“You’d never guess what she’s goin’ over for,” Mrs. Wragge said to the men.
They shook their heads smiling at Adeline.
“why, she’s goin’ over to choose herself a husband. She’s goin’ to look them over in Great Britain and Ireland and pick out a prize one.”
“You don’t need to go that far, do you, miss?” said Wright. “There’s good men at home here, eh?”
“She’s after a title,” said Mrs. Wragge. “She aims to be ‘my lady’ — like her great-aunt.”
Noah Binns spoke truculently. “No man living has a right to a title, except the King. George — King of Canada and Great Britain.”
“what about Ireland?” asked Raikes.
“Ireland!” Noah gave a snort. “Ireland’s a foreign country now and will perish as such.”
“when did you start talking biblical?” asked Wright.
“I’ll bet you a dollar to a doughnut,” declared Noah, “that I’m the only one present who could say a piece from the Bible by heart.”
“I’ll take you on,” said Adeline. “At school we had to memorize from the Bible as a punishment. I was always in trouble so I know masses by heart.”
“I was not including the ladies,” returned Noah.
Mrs. Wragge interrupted, — “You’re getting away from the subject.”
“Well, miss,” said Raikes, “I hope you’ll find a nice young Irish gentleman to your liking.”
Noah Binns said, — “There’s men in this country, better than any duke.”
“what Miss Adeline’d like,” put in Wright, “is a gentleman with a stable full of show horses or a string of racehorses.”
Rags gave his insinuating smile. “She’s got him picked out,” he said. “I’ve heard his name — not many times, but once.”
Adeline imperturbably finished her gingerbread. Through the window behind her the face of the bulldog appeared, and behind it the legs of a horse.
“It’s the boss,” exclaimed Wright. “I guess he’d like me to take his horse.” He hurried out followed by Raikes and then by Binns, the last shuffling along with knees bent and an expression of pessimistic curiosity on his face.
“Thanks for the gingerbread, Mrs. Wragge,” cried Adeline. “There’s Daddy! The message I came down to give you was from Mummy. She says will you please make less gravy — no, put less grease in the gravy — no, I mean, don’t burn the gravy! Goodness, I forget what it was!” She ran from the kitchen and joined the three men standing about the horse. The feeling of joy she always had when she saw her father on horseback was as sweet to her as the smell of the sharp pure air. There was no man living, she thought, who sat a horse as he did, whose legs and body so merged in the body of the horse, the lines of whose back and shoulders so flowed into the lines of the horse when he cantered. She drank in the sight — the man’s bare head, the naked arching head of the horse, the look in their eyes of accepting restraint to only a certain point. She ran through the snow and put her hand on the beast’s powerful neck, the flesh so hard, so muscular, tightly bound in that glossy chestnut hide. He swung his head toward her, mumbling his bit as though in dismay at finding it there in his mouth.
“Shall I take him to the stable, sir?” Wright asked. He took the bridle in his hand.
“Yes, thanks, Wright.” Renny threw a leg across the horse and slid to the ground. The horse gave a petulant look at Wright and then minced delicately with him toward the stables, ready at any moment to misbehave.
Raikes smiled at Renny with a kind of intimacy. “A lovely horse, sir,” he said. “Is he the one that took first prize at the show?”
“He is. He’s perfect except that you can’t always depend on him.”
“I’ve seen hundreds of horses,” said Noah, “and I never seen one that had any brains.”
“Then where did the expression horse sense come from?” demanded Renny.
“I’ll bet your grandfather made it up.” Noah cackled in delight at his own wit. Afraid that he would not have the last word he clumped off through the snow, more of which had begun to fall.
“Lord, when will spring come!” exclaimed Renny, looking up into the heavy sky, as though he did in truth invoke the Deity.
Adeline put her arm about his waist. “It can’t come too soon for me. What a spring to look forward to!”
“My daughter is going over to your country,” Renny said to the Irishman.
“Ah, that’s where she’ll see a lovely spring.” Raikes’ eyes were clouded as though in nostalgia. “I hope you enjoy it, miss.”
“Thanks. I’m sure to. I have a wonderful power of enjoyment.” She spoke in Ernest’s very manner.
“It’s a grand thing to have, miss.”
With his gravely polite bow Raikes took the path that led behind the stables and so to Vaughanlands. He could not help comparing the cheerful atmosphere of Jalna with that of Vaughanlands where so often the family seemed at cross-purposes, neither happy themselves nor able to make those they employed happy. Still he was far from dissatisfied. He would stay where he was and make the best of it. The litter of young pigs had been sold at a fair profit. There were other things.…
He kicked the snow from his boots and went into the kitchen. Tania was there stirring something on the stove, a look of distaste darkening her face.
“where’s the boss?” asked Raikes.
“Can’t do. I go,” she returned.
He came close, smiling into her face.
“Can’t do,” she said, raising the spoon as though to hit him. “You go.”
“You’re a devil,” he laughed. “Understand that?” He left her and went into the hall. Eugene Clapperton was there tying a muffler round his neck.
“Well,” he said sharply, the memory of last night’s collision fresh in his mind, “has the car been taken away for repairs?”
“It has that, sir. They’re pretty busy and say it will take three weeks before it’s done.”
“Hm.… Well, in the meantime you’ll have to walk. No taking out of the Cadillac, mind you.”
“No, sir. No indeed.” Raikes hesitated, reluctant to go on. ‘‘But …”
“But what? what’s the trouble now?”
“It’s the mare, sir. The one Colonel Whiteoak sold you, for riding.”
Eugene Clapperton had bought the mare half against his own better judgment in the flush of a reconciliation with Renny Whiteoak, with the feeling too that r
iding would be good for his health. But he never had enjoyed it. The thought that the mare should be exercised hung over him. The fear of her, when he was mounted, never left him. But he was proud of her. The thought of anything going wrong with her filled him with dismay. He asked:
“Is she ailing?”
Raikes answered softly, — “Her health is fine, sir. I wouldn’t ask for better, but it’s her eyes that’s troublin’ her.”
“Her eyes?”
“Yes, sir. She’s gone quite blind in one eye and the other is bad, too. In a little while her sight will be quite gone.”
“why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I hadn’t the heart to tell you, sir. So many things had gone amiss. At first it came to me as a big surprise her not seeing so well. Then I made certain she had the same trouble as two other horses I’ve known. One was a mare in Ireland and it developed slow in her. The other was a gelding out in this country and it developed fast in him. But it’s the same trouble. I’ve worked with horses all my life and I couldn’t be mistaken.”
“We must have the vet to see her.”
“If it’ll make you more sure, sir — of course. But the vet at Stead is no good for this sort of thing. If you don’t mind I’ll take her to the one at Belton. It’s quite a way but I’d sooner trust him.”
“Let him come to see her.”
“He’d do that but he’s got some trouble in his back and he’s only able to look after the animals that are brought to him. He’ll be around again in a month, they tell me. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting.”
“Better take her at once.
Raikes hesitated. “There is his fee, sir. He’s a man who likes to be paid on the spot. Then there’ll be my lunch at the hotel and some oats for the mare.”
Eugene Clapperton handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Let’s hope the vet can do something for her. Upon my word I’m sick and tired of the things that go wrong with the animals. They look so strong and yet …”
“Ah, they have their troubles, sir, the same as us.”
Out on the hard-packed snow of the road Eugene Clapperton put back his shoulders and consciously set his lungs to work expelling the dry warm air of the house and inhaling the cold purity of the outdoor air. There was now a hint of moisture in it and the large flakes that were beginning to fall had a softness like feathers and clung gently to whatever they touched. He made up his mind not to let the mishaps of the farm depress him. He had enough in his own house to do that.
Gem was not the docile young wife he had expected. She had a will of her own. She was even critical of him. God knew, he was willing to spoil her, to give in to her when it was seemly to do so. What hurt him was her aloofness, her drawing into herself, the way she and Althea stopped talking when he came into the room. He wished there were some way of getting rid of Althea but he saw no such possibility. In fact the poor girl was not fit to go out into the world. She needed the shelter of his roof and the companionship of a sister. If only she would marry! But who would want to marry her? And whom could she be induced to marry? She was so shy that she fled at the sight of a stranger. He supposed he would go on to the end of his days with her hanging round his neck like a millstone.
When he came to the little gate that led into the Fox Farm he suddenly decided that he would drop in and have a chat with Humphrey Bell. He felt sorry for that young man. He was so misguided, so wrong in leading the life he did. Disaster might come of it. He was without doubt mentally ill. Eugene Clapperton waiting for an answer to his knock reproached himself for not having come to see Bell sooner, but the young man had seemed to shrink from him and he was not one to push in where he was not wanted. He had a desire to help Bell, to be Bell’s benefactor. The day might come when Bell would seek him out to thank him for what his advice had done for him. “All I am I owe to you, Mr. Clapperton” — and his insignificant little face would glow.
There was not a footprint on the snowy path that led to the door. Obviously Bell had not put his nose out that day. Yes — he had! There were footprints leading to a feeding table for birds built in the crotch of an old apple tree. A dozen small birds rose fluttering from it at his approach. There was a card by the door announcing that the bell was out of order. It would be out of order! Eugene Clapperton could not imagine anything in order in that house. And what a small insignificant house it was — a fit abode for Bell!
He opened the door at the peremptory knock and looked ready to shut it again in his consternation. He stammered:
“Oh — how d’you do? Mister — Mister —” he could not for the life of him remember Clapperton’s name, often as he had spat it out in anger.
The friendly expression on the face of his visitor faded. He could not believe it possible for anyone to forget his name. It was done to make him look small, to make Bell feel important. But he was not going to take offence. He smiled and held out his hand.
“I thought I’d drop in and see how you are getting on,” he said. “I am Eugene Clapperton.”
Bell took his hand, looked at it, shook it, and said in his low voice, — “Oh, yes, I remember. Won’t you come in?”
He placed one of the two easy chairs for the visitor, facing the stove, and himself sat down on a stiff-backed chair against the wall.
Eugene Clapperton looked appraisingly about the room.
“You’ve made yourself quite comfortable here,” he said.
“I like it,” returned Bell defiantly.
“You must indeed — to have stood it so long. “ He saw the small carvings on the mantelshelf and his face lighted. “Ah, you’ve got a hobby. Good. I’m very pleased to see that. In fact I was going to advise it. There’s nothing better than a hobby — for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. For your state of mind. Psychiatrists prescribe it. Takes your mind off your frustrations and inhibitions. Who advised you?”
“Nobody.”
“You just thought it out for yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Splendid. Now that’s a real good sign. You look better too. Your face shows that you’re not quite so mentally ill as you were.”
“I’m not mentally ill.”
“Come now. You can be frank with me. I’ve read a good deal on this subject in the newspapers and magazines. I know the strange states of mind people can get into. Do you realize that a large percentage of the population is mentally ill? Some realize it. The majority don’t and they just go on suffering and making other people suffer … I’ve one of them in my own house.”
Bell brightened.
“Yourself?” he asked.
Eugene Clapperton gave a loud laugh. “No. Not me! My sister-in-law, Althea Griffith. Have you seen her?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a dear girl and I think a great deal of her, but …” he shook his head expressing more than any words he would have dared utter. An idea had come into his head. If he could bring these two together, what might not come of it! There was something about Bell that might appeal to Althea. As for Bell he must be terribly lonely. Any personable young woman would surely attract him. If only he could bring it about … but the difficulties were baffling. Both the young people disliked meeting strangers, both were possessed of natures that made them balk at any urging. But Eugene Clapperton was exhilarated by difficulties, he even was glad of them, for there was little in these days to be overcome. His life was rather one of endurance of ills beyond his control.
In spite of himself Humphrey Bell felt curious, also anything was better than talking about himself. He said:
“Someone told me she’s very shy.”
“Shy! That’s putting it mildly. I believe she’d run away from her own shadow. That’s just her state of mind. She’s neurotic. She’s supersensitive. But all that could be cured by proper handling.”
“why don’t you set about curing her?” Bell asked, bitterly sarcastic.
“Ah, I might — but one symptom of her sickness is dislike of me
. Just imagine. She avoids me whenever possible. However, I do my best to help her. I encourage her in her hobbies. One of them is painting. Now I don’t find much in her paintings to admire but you might like them. I’ve offered to pay for lessons for her from a first-rate teacher but she’ll not hear of it. I’ve offered to pay for treatment from a psychiatrist, but at the mention of it she went to her room and stayed there for two whole days. Now it seems to me that you two could do a great deal for each other — if you could just get together.”
“Control yourself,” Humphrey Bell was repeating inwardly. “Don’t let him know how you’d like to bash his head in with that poker. Don’t begin throwing things at him. Don’t look as though you minded.” With these thoughts in his head he sat on his hands like a child staring at Clapperton, his small pale face set, his pale hair standing erect as though in surprise.
“Of course, it’s the war,” said Clapperton. “Neither you nor Althea were what you now are before that. She lost her only brother. She thought the world of him. Just imagine what it would have done to your four sisters if you’d been killed. You have four sisters, haven’t you?”
“Hm …” grunted Bell.
“Then there’s yourself — I mean your experience as a prisoner of war.” He looked piercingly at Bell. “It might do you good to talk of that to me. Just to pour out what’s been bottled up in you for so long. It might be the keynote of your recovery.”
Bell sat and stared.
In an encouraging voice Clapperton continued, — “You must have seen and suffered terrible things. Now I’d like to hear of your treatment at the hands of the Germans.”
“They treated me fine,” Bell said almost in a whisper.
“And you don’t look back on that time with horror?”
“I liked it,” Bell got out.
Eugene Clapperton rose. He came and put his hand on Bell’s shoulder. “You are even more mentally sick than I had suspected. You must let me help you.”
Bell rose also and the two stood facing one another.
Books 13-16: Return to Jalna / Renny's Daughter / Variable Winds at Jalna / Centenary at Jalna Page 52