by Bram Stoker
CHAPTER VI--HAWK AND PIGEON
At breakfast-time next morning Sir Nathaniel and Mr. Salton were seatedwhen Adam came hurriedly into the room.
"Any news?" asked his uncle mechanically.
"Four."
"Four what?" asked Sir Nathaniel.
"Snakes," said Adam, helping himself to a grilled kidney.
"Four snakes. I don't understand."
"Mongoose," said Adam, and then added explanatorily: "I was out with themongoose just after three."
"Four snakes in one morning! Why, I didn't know there were so many onthe Brow"--the local name for the western cliff. "I hope that wasn't theconsequence of our talk of last night?"
"It was, sir. But not directly."
"But, God bless my soul, you didn't expect to get a snake like theLambton worm, did you? Why, a mongoose, to tackle a monster like that--ifthere were one--would have to be bigger than a haystack."
"These were ordinary snakes, about as big as a walking-stick."
"Well, it's pleasant to be rid of them, big or little. That is a goodmongoose, I am sure; he'll clear out all such vermin round here," saidMr. Salton.
Adam went quietly on with his breakfast. Killing a few snakes in amorning was no new experience to him. He left the room the momentbreakfast was finished and went to the study that his uncle had arrangedfor him. Both Sir Nathaniel and Mr. Salton took it that he wanted to beby himself, so as to avoid any questioning or talk of the visit that hewas to make that afternoon. They saw nothing further of him till abouthalf-an-hour before dinner-time. Then he came quietly into the smoking-room, where Mr. Salton and Sir Nathaniel were sitting together, readydressed.
"I suppose there is no use waiting. We had better get it over at once,"remarked Adam.
His uncle, thinking to make things easier for him, said: "Get what over?"
There was a sign of shyness about him at this. He stammered a little atfirst, but his voice became more even as he went on.
"My visit to Mercy Farm."
Mr. Salton waited eagerly. The old diplomatist simply smiled.
"I suppose you both know that I was much interested yesterday in theWatfords?" There was no denial or fending off the question. Both theold men smiled acquiescence. Adam went on: "I meant you to see it--bothof you. You, uncle, because you are my uncle and the nearest of my ownkin, and, moreover, you couldn't have been more kind to me or made memore welcome if you had been my own father." Mr. Salton said nothing. Hesimply held out his hand, and the other took it and held it for a fewseconds. "And you, sir, because you have shown me something of the sameaffection which in my wildest dreams of home I had no right to expect."He stopped for an instant, much moved.
Sir Nathaniel answered softly, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder.
"You are right, my boy; quite right. That is the proper way to look atit. And I may tell you that we old men, who have no children of our own,feel our hearts growing warm when we hear words like those."
Then Adam hurried on, speaking with a rush, as if he wanted to come tothe crucial point.
"Mr. Watford had not come in, but Lilla and Mimi were at home, and theymade me feel very welcome. They have all a great regard for my uncle. Iam glad of that any way, for I like them all--much. We were having tea,when Mr. Caswall came to the door, attended by the negro. Lilla openedthe door herself. The window of the living-room at the farm is a largeone, and from within you cannot help seeing anyone coming. Mr. Caswallsaid he had ventured to call, as he wished to make the acquaintance ofall his tenants, in a less formal way, and more individually, than hadbeen possible to him on the previous day. The girls made himwelcome--they are very sweet girls those, sir; someone will be very happysome day there--with either of them."
"And that man may be you, Adam," said Mr. Salton heartily.
A sad look came over the young man's eyes, and the fire his uncle hadseen there died out. Likewise the timbre left his voice, making it soundlonely.
"Such might crown my life. But that happiness, I fear, is not for me--ornot without pain and loss and woe."
"Well, it's early days yet!" cried Sir Nathaniel heartily.
The young man turned on him his eyes, which had now grown excessivelysad.
"Yesterday--a few hours ago--that remark would have given me new hope--newcourage; but since then I have learned too much."
The old man, skilled in the human heart, did not attempt to argue in sucha matter.
"Too early to give in, my boy."
"I am not of a giving-in kind," replied the young man earnestly. "But,after all, it is wise to realise a truth. And when a man, though he isyoung, feels as I do--as I have felt ever since yesterday, when I firstsaw Mimi's eyes--his heart jumps. He does not need to learn things. Heknows."
There was silence in the room, during which the twilight stole onimperceptibly. It was Adam who again broke the silence.
"Do you know, uncle, if we have any second sight in our family?"
"No, not that I ever heard about. Why?"
"Because," he answered slowly, "I have a conviction which seems to answerall the conditions of second sight."
"And then?" asked the old man, much perturbed.
"And then the usual inevitable. What in the Hebrides and other places,where the Sight is a cult--a belief--is called 'the doom'--the court fromwhich there is no appeal. I have often heard of second sight--we havemany western Scots in Australia; but I have realised more of its trueinwardness in an instant of this afternoon than I did in the whole of mylife previously--a granite wall stretching up to the very heavens, sohigh and so dark that the eye of God Himself cannot see beyond. Well, ifthe Doom must come, it must. That is all."
The voice of Sir Nathaniel broke in, smooth and sweet and grave.
"Can there not be a fight for it? There can for most things."
"For most things, yes, but for the Doom, no. What a man can do I shalldo. There will be--must be--a fight. When and where and how I know not,but a fight there will be. But, after all, what is a man in such acase?"
"Adam, there are three of us." Salton looked at his old friend as hespoke, and that old friend's eyes blazed.
"Ay, three of us," he said, and his voice rang.
There was again a pause, and Sir Nathaniel endeavoured to get back toless emotional and more neutral ground.
"Tell us of the rest of the meeting. Remember we are all pledged tothis. It is a fight _a l'outrance_, and we can afford to throw away orforgo no chance."
"We shall throw away or lose nothing that we can help. We fight to win,and the stake is a life--perhaps more than one--we shall see." Then hewent on in a conversational tone, such as he had used when he spoke ofthe coming to the farm of Edgar Caswall: "When Mr. Caswall came in, thenegro went a short distance away and there remained. It gave me the ideathat he expected to be called, and intended to remain in sight, or withinhail. Then Mimi got another cup and made fresh tea, and we all went ontogether."
"Was there anything uncommon--were you all quite friendly?" asked SirNathaniel quietly.
"Quite friendly. There was nothing that I could notice out of thecommon--except," he went on, with a slight hardening of the voice,"except that he kept his eyes fixed on Lilla, in a way which was quiteintolerable to any man who might hold her dear."
"Now, in what way did he look?" asked Sir Nathaniel.
"There was nothing in itself offensive; but no one could help noticingit."
"You did. Miss Watford herself, who was the victim, and Mr. Caswall, whowas the offender, are out of range as witnesses. Was there anyone elsewho noticed?"
"Mimi did. Her face flamed with anger as she saw the look."
"What kind of look was it? Over-ardent or too admiring, or what? Was itthe look of a lover, or one who fain would be? You understand?"
"Yes, sir, I quite understand. Anything of that sort I should of coursenotice. It would be part of my preparation for keeping myself-control--to which I am pledged
."
"If it were not amatory, was it threatening? Where was the offence?"
Adam smiled kindly at the old man.
"It was not amatory. Even if it was, such was to be expected. I shouldbe the last man in the world to object, since I am myself an offender inthat respect. Moreover, not only have I been taught to fight fair, butby nature I believe I am just. I would be as tolerant of and as liberalto a rival as I should expect him to be to me. No, the look I mean wasnothing of that kind. And so long as it did not lack proper respect, Ishould not of my own part condescend to notice it. Did you ever studythe eyes of a hound?"
"At rest?"
"No, when he is following his instincts! Or, better still," Adam wenton, "the eyes of a bird of prey when he is following his instincts. Notwhen he is swooping, but merely when he is watching his quarry?"
"No," said Sir Nathaniel, "I don't know that I ever did. Why, may Iask?"
"That was the look. Certainly not amatory or anything of that kind--yetit was, it struck me, more dangerous, if not so deadly as an actualthreatening."
Again there was a silence, which Sir Nathaniel broke as he stood up:
"I think it would be well if we all thought over this by ourselves. Thenwe can renew the subject."