CHAPTER LVII
That night Arthur dreamed no evil dreams, but he thought he heard asound outside his door, and some one speak of fire. Hearing nothingmore, he turned and went to sleep again. Waking in the early dawn hefelt, ere yet his senses fully came, a happy sense of something, heknew not what, a rosy shadow of coming joy, such as will, only withmore intensity, fall upon our quickened faculties when, death ended,our souls begin to stir as we awaken to Eternity.
He sprang from his bed, and his eye fell on a morocco case upon thedressing-table. It contained the diamonds which he had had re-set as awedding present to Angela. They were nothing compared with MildredCarr's, but still extremely handsome, their beauty being enhanced bythe elegance of the setting, which was in the shape of a snake withemerald head and ruby eyes, so constructed as to clasp tightly roundAngela's shapely throat.
The sight of the jewellery at once recalled his present circumstances,and he knew that the long hour of trial was passed--he was about tomeet Angela. Having dressed himself as quickly as he could, he took upthe jewel-case, but, finding it too large to stow away, he opened it,and, taking out the necklace, crammed it into his pocket. Thus armedhe slipped down the stairs, past the open common room where the lightshone through the cracks in the shutters on a dismal array of stickybeer-mugs and spirit glasses, down the sanded passage into the villagestreet.
It was full daylight now, and the sun never looked upon a loveliermorning. The air was warm, but there was that sharp freshness in itwhich is needful to make summer weather perfect, and which we alwaysmiss by breakfasting at nine o'clock. The sky was blue, just fleckedwith little clouds; the dewdrops sparkled upon every leaf and blade ofgrass; touches of mist clung about the hollows, and the sweet breathof the awakened earth was full of the perfect scent of an EnglishJune, which is in its way even more delicious than the spicy odours ofthe tropics. It was a morning to make sick men well, and men happy,and atheists believers in a creative hand. How much more than did itfire Arthur's pulses, already bounding with youth and health, with anuntold joy.
He felt like a child again, so free from care, so happy, except thathis heart swelled with a love beyond the knowledge of children. Hisquick temperament had rebounded from the depths of unequal depression,into which it so often fell, to the heights of a happy assurance. TheTantalus cup was at his lips at last, and he would drink his full, besure! His eyes flashed and sparkled, his foot fell light and quick asan antelope's, his brown cheek glowed--never had he looked sohandsome. Angela would not forget her promise; she would be waitingfor him by the lake, he was sure of that, and thither he made his waythrough the morning sunshine. They were happy moments.
Presently he passed into the parish of Bratham, and his eye fell upona neat red brick cottage, a garden planted with sunflowers, and abright gravel path running to the rustic gate. He thought the gardencharmingly old-fashioned, and had just entered a mental note to askAngela who lived there, when the door opened, and figure he knewemerged, bearing a mat in one hand and a mopstick in the other. He wassome way off, and at first could not quite distinguish who it was; butbefore she had come to the gate he recognized Pigott. By this time shehad stepped into the road, and was making elaborate preparations todust her mat so that she did not see him, till he spoke to her.
"How are you, Pigott? What may you be doing down here? Why are you notup at the Abbey?"
She gave a cry, and the mat and mopstick fell from her hands.
"Mr. Heigham!" she said, in an awed voice that chilled his blood,"what has brought you back, and why do you come to me? I never wrongedyou."
"What are you talking about? I have come to marry Angela, of course.We are going to be married to-morrow."
"Oh, then it's really _you_, sir! _And she married yesterday--oh, goodGod!_"
"Don't laugh at me, nurse--please don't laugh. It--it upsets me. Whydo you shake so? What do you mean?"
"Mean!--I mean that my Angela _married her cousin, George Caresfoot,at Roxham, yesterday._ Heaven forgive me for having to tell it you!"
Reader, have you ever mortally wounded a head of large game? You hearyour bullet thud upon the living flesh, and see the creature throw upits head and stagger for a moment, and then plunge forward withdesperate speed, crashing through bush and reeds as though they weremeadow-grass. Follow him awhile, and you will find him standing quitestill, breathing in great sighs, his back humped and his eye dim, thegore trickling from his nostrils. He is dying--but be careful, hemeans mischief before he dies.
Any great shock, mental or physical, is apt to reduce man to the levelof his brother beasts. Arthur, for instance, behaved very much like awounded buffalo as soon as the stun of the blow passed away, and therending pain began to make itself felt. For a few seconds he gazedbefore him stupid and helpless, then his face turned quite grey, theeyes and nostrils gaped wide, and a curious rigidity took possessionof his muscles.
The road he was following led to a branching lane, the same thatAngela was turning up that misty Christmas Eve when she saw LadyBellamy glide past in her carriage. This lane had in former ages, nodoubt, to judge from its numerous curves, been an ancient forest-path,and it ran to the little bridge over the stream that fed the lake--apoint that, by travelling as the crow flies from Pigott's cottage,might be reached in half the time. This fact Arthur seemed at thatdreadful moment to suddenly realize, more probably from naturalinstinct than from any particular knowledge of the lay of the land. Hedid not speak again to Pigott, and she was too frightened at his faceto speak to him. He only looked at her, but she never forgot that lookso long as she lived. Then he turned like a mad thing, and went_crash_ through the thick fence that hedged the road, and ran at fullspeed towards the lake, diverging neither to the right nor to theleft, but breaking his way without the slightest apparent difficultythrough everything that opposed him.
Very soon he came to the little bridge, and here, struck by some newinstinct, he halted. He did not appear to be out of breath, but heleaned on the rail of the bridge and groaned like a dying man. Hisghastly face made a blot in the mimic scenery of the place, which wasreally very pretty. The bridge commanded no view, for the little creekit spanned, and into which the stream ran, gave a turn before it grewinto the neck of the lake; but it was hedged in by greenery, and thestill pool beneath it was starred with water-lilies, turning theirinnocent eyes up to the blue sky, and looking as peaceful as thoughthere were no stormy winds or waters in the world to toss them.Amongst these water-lilies a moorhen had built her nest, and presentlyshe came clucking out right under Arthur's feet, followed by ten or adozen little hurrying black balls, each tipped with sealing-wax red.She looked very happy with her brood--as happy as the lilies and theblue sky--and the sight made him savage. He took up a large stone thatlay by him and threw it at her. It hit her on the back and killed her,and Arthur laughed loud as he watched her struggle, and then liestill, while the motherless chicks hurried, frightened, away. And yetsince he was a boy he had never till now wantonly injured any livingcreature.
Presently, the dead water-hen floated out of sight, and he rousedhimself, straightened his clothes, which had been somewhat torn andderanged, and, with a steady step and a fixed smile upon his lips,went forward, no longer at a run, but walking quietly up the path thatled to the big oak and shaded glen. In five minutes he was there.
Again he paused and looked. There was something to see. On one of thestone seats, dressed in black, her face deathly pale, her head restingon her hand, and trouble in her eyes, sat Angela. On the other was herconstant companion, the dog which he had given her. He remembered how,a little more than a year before, she had surprised him in the sameway, and he had looked upon her and loved her. He could even smile atthe strange irony of fate that had, under such curiously reversedcircumstances, brought him back to surprise her, to look upon her, andhate her.
She moved uneasily, and glanced round, but he was hidden by a bush.Then she half rose, paused irresolutely, and, as though strugglingagainst s
omething foolish, sat determinedly down again. When Arthurhad done smiling, he came forward a few steps into the open, feelingthat his face was all drawn and changed, as indeed it was. It was theface of a man of fifty. His eyes were fire, and his heart was ice.
She turned her head, and looked up with a shrinking in her eyes, asthough she feared to see something hateful--a shrinking which turnedfirst to wonder, then to dread, then to a lively joy, and then againto awe. She rose mechanically, with a great gasp; her lips parted, asthough to speak, but no words came. The dog, too, saw him, andgrowled, then ran up and sniffed, and leaped upon him with a yelp ofjoy. He waved it down, and there was something in the gesture thatfrightened the beast. It shrank behind him. Then he spoke in a clear,hard tone--not his own voice, she thought.
"Angela, is this true? Are you _married?_"
"Oh, no;" and her voice came stealing to his senses like half-forgotten music; "that is, yes, alas! But is it really you? Oh,Arthur, my darling, have you come back to me?" and she moved towardshim with outstretched arms.
Already they were closing round him, and he could feel her breath uponhis cheek, when the charm broke, and he wrenched himself free.
"Get back; do not dare to touch me. Do you know what you are? The poorlost girl is not fallen so low as you. She must get her bread; but, atany rate, I could have given you bread. What! fresh from yourhusband's arms, and ready to throw yourself into mine! Shame upon you!Were you not married yesterday?"
"Oh, Arthur, have pity! You do not understand. Oh, merciful God----"
"Have pity! What need for pity? Were you not married yesterday?" andhe laughed bitterly. "I come--I come from far to congratulate the new-made wife. It is a little odd, though, I thought to marry you myself.See, here was my wedding present;" and he tore the diamond necklacefrom his pocket. "A snake, you see; a good emblem! Away with it, itsuse is gone!"
The diamonds went flashing through the sunlight, and fell with alittle splash into the lake.
"What! are you not sorry to see so much valuable property wasted? Youhave a keen appreciation of property!"
Angela sank down on her knees before him, like a broken lily. Herlooks grew faint and despairing. The stately head bowed itself to hisfeet, and all the golden weight of hair broke loose. But he did notpause or spare her. He ground his teeth. No one could have recognizedin this maddened, passion-inspired man the pleasant, easy-temperedArthur of an hour before. His nature was stirred to its depths, andthey were deep.
"You miserable woman! do not kneel to me. If it were not unmanly, Icould spurn you with my foot. Do you know, girl, you who swore to loveme till time had passed--yes, and for all eternity, you who do love meat this moment--and therein lies your shame--that you have killed me?You have murdered my heart. I trusted you, Angela, I trusted you, Igave you all my life, all that was best in me; and now in reward--degraded as you are--I must always love you as much as I despise you.Even now I feel that I _cannot_ hate you and forget you. I _must_ loveyou, and I _must_ despise you."
She gazed up at him like a dumb beast at its butcher; she could notspeak, her voice had gone.
"And yet, when I think of it, I have something to thank you for. Youhave cleared my mind of illusions. You have taught me what a woman'spurity is worth. You did the thing well, too! You did not crush me byinches with platitudes, bidding me forget you and not think of you anymore, as though forgetfulness were possible, and thought a tangiblething that one could kill. You struck home in silence, once and forall. Thank you for _that_, Angela. What, are you crying? Go back tothe brute whom you have chosen, the brute whose passion or whose moneyyou could prefer to me, tell him that they are tears of happiness, andlet him kiss them quite away."
"Oh, Arthur--cruel--Arthur!" and nature gave way. She fell fainting onthe grass.
Then, when he saw that she could not understand or feel any more, hisrage died, and he too broke down and sobbed, great, gasping sobs. Andthe frightened dog crept up and licked first her face and then hishand.
Kneeling down, Arthur raised her in his arms and strained her to hisheart, kissing her thrice upon the forehead--the lips he could nottouch. Then he placed her on the seat, leaning her weight against thetree, and, motioning back the dog, he went his way.
Dawn Page 66