Mrs Scarfe and her son arrived a day or two later at Wildtree Towers.
Jeffreys, who from the recesses of a bay window was an unseen witness of
the arrival, saw at a glance that his forebodings were too true. Scarfe
had changed somewhat since we saw him at Bolsover fifteen months ago.
He was older and better-looking and wore a trim black moustache. His
dress was in the best Oxford style; and in his easy, confident carriage
there remained no trace of the overgrown schoolboy. His mother, a
delicate-looking widow lady, returned Mrs Rimbolt's greeting with the
eagerness of an old friend, and introduced her son with evident pride.
It was hopeless for Jeffreys to think of avoiding a recognition for
long. Still, he anxiously put off the evil hour as long as possible.
The first afternoon and evening this was not difficult, for the
travellers had made a long journey and retired early. The following day
he went through his work on tenterhooks. Every time the library door
opened he felt his heart sink within him, and every footstep he heard
crossing the hall seemed to be the one he dreaded.
In the evening he attempted to escape the inevitable by taking refuge in
his room after dinner. But as it happened a messenger arrived from
Overstone with a parcel of books, which made it necessary for him to
return to the library. And while there Mr Rimbolt as usual came in.
As soon as the business matter had been arranged Mr Rimbolt said, "Miss
Atherton has been asking to see Blake's _Songs of Innocence_, Jeffreys;
will you kindly take the book to her in the drawing-room? I have one of
my tenants to see here, but I shall be in shortly."
There was no possible escape from this dilemma. With a groan he got the
book down from its place and went.
Scarfe, as he entered the drawing-room, was engaged in turning over a
book of prints with Raby, and did not notice him. Nor did Mrs Rimbolt,
siting on the sofa beside her friend, heed his entrance till Percy
said,--
"Hullo, Jeff!"
Jeffreys became aware that the eyes of the whole party were suddenly
centred on him--Mrs Rimbolt's from under lifted eyebrows, Mrs Scarfe's
through raised eye-glasses, Raby's with a veiled welcome, Scarfe's in
blank astonishment. He advanced awkwardly into the room.
"Close the door, please, Mr Jeffreys," said Mrs Rimbolt, in tones
which left no manner of doubt in her visitors' minds as to the status of
the librarian in the house.
Jeffreys obeyed, and advanced once more towards Raby.
"Your uncle," stammered he, conscious of nothing but Scarfe's stare,
"asked me to bring you this book." Then, turning with a desperate
effort to his old schoolfellow, he said, "How are you, Scarfe?"
He scorned himself for the half-appealing tone in which the salutation
was made. What was Scarfe to him? Nothing, save that Scarfe and he had
both looked down that October afternoon on the motionless form of one
small boy in the Bolsover meadow. And was that nothing?
"How do you do, Jeffreys?" said Scarfe, stiffly extending his hand, and
immediately afterwards returning to his examination of the prints with
Raby.
"Do you know Jeff?" asked Percy, who had witnessed the recognition.
"Yes. Jeffreys and I have met," said Scarfe, not looking up from his
book.
"Who is that young man?" said Mrs Scarfe, in an audible whisper to her
hostess.
"The librarian here. Mr Jeffreys," added Mrs Rimbolt, as Jeffreys
stood irresolute, not knowing whether to remain in the room or go, "be
good enough to tell Walker he can bring the coffee, and tell Mr Rimbolt
we are expecting him."
"Mr Rimbolt asked me to say you are not to wait coffee for him. He may
be detained with a tenant in the library."
"Jeff, I say, you should have been with us this afternoon. We had such
larks. We got one or two pot shots, but didn't hit anything except the
dog. So it's a good job we didn't borrow Julius. Kennedy says we're in
for a ripping frost, so save yourself up, old man."
"Percy, you talk like a stable-boy. Do remember you are in the drawing-
room; and don't detain Mr Jeffreys from his work."
Under cover of this maternal exhortation Jeffreys withdrew.
"Rum your knowing Jeff, Scarfe!" said Percy, after he had gone; "was he
at Oxford?"
"No," said Scarfe. "It was at school. Surely that must be one of
Hogarth's engravings, Miss Atherton, it is exactly his style."
"It wasn't much of a school, was it?" persisted Percy. "Jeff told me he
didn't care about it."
"I don't think he did," replied Scarfe with a faint smile.
"I suppose you are very fond of Oxford, are you not?" said Mrs Rimbolt;
"every one who belongs to the University seems very proud of it."
This effectually turned the conversation away from Jeffreys, and the
subject was not recurred to that evening, except just when Scarfe was
bidding his mother good-night in her boudoir.
"I hope you won't be dull here," said she. "Miss Atherton seems a
pleasant girl, but it is a pity Percy is not older and more of a
companion."
"Oh, I shall enjoy myself," said Scarfe.
"You don't seem very fond of that Mr Jeffreys."
"No, I draw the line somewhere, mother," said the son.
"What do you mean? Is there anything discreditable about him? He looks
common and stupid, to be sure. Mrs Rimbolt tells me Percy is greatly
taken up with him."
"They appear to have curious ideas about the kind of companion they
choose for their boy," said Scarfe. "But it's no business of ours.
Good-night, mother."
And he went, leaving Mrs Scarfe decidedly mystified.
Jeffreys and Scarfe occasionally met during the next few days. Jeffreys
was rather relieved to find that his late schoolfellow seemed by no
means anxious to recall an old acquaintance or to refer to Bolsover. He
could even forgive him for falling into the usual mode of treating the
librarian as an inferior. It mattered little enough to him, seeing what
Scarfe already knew about him, what he thought of him at Wildtree. On
the whole, the less they met and the less they talked together, the less
chance was there of rousing bitter memories. The Scarfes would hardly
remain more than a month. If for that time he could efface himself, the
danger might blow over, and he might be left at the end of the time with
the secret of his bad name still safe at Wildtree Towers.
Kennedy's prophecy of a hard frost turned out to have been a knowing
one. All through Christmas week it continued with a severity rare even
in that mountainous region; and when on New Year's Day the report
reached Wildtree that a man had skated across the upper end of Wellmere
it was admitted to be a frost which, to the younger generation of the
place at least, "beat record."
Percy was particularly enthusiastic, and terrified his mother by
announcing that he meant to skate across Wellmere, too. Raby, though
less ambitious, was equally keen for the ice; and Scarfe, indolently
inclined as he was, was constrained to declare himself also anxious to
put on his skates.
A day was lost owing to the fact that Percy's skates, which had lain
idle for two years, were now too small for him and useless.
Mrs Rimbolt devoutly hoped the ironmonger in Overstone would have none
to fit him, and used the interval in intriguing right and left to stop
the projected expedition.
She represented to her husband that the head gardener was of opinion
that the frost had reached its height two days ago. She discovered that
Scarfe had a cold, to which exposure might be disastrous. Raby she
peremptorily forbade to dream of the ice; and as for Percy, she conjured
him by the love he bore her to skate on nothing deeper than the Rodnet
Marsh, whereat that young gentleman gibed. The Overstone ironmonger had
skates which fitted the boy to a nicety, and by way of business sent up
"on inspection" a pair which Mr Rimbolt might find useful for himself.
"You surely will not allow Percy to go?" said the lady to her husband,
on the morning after the arrival of the skates.
"Why not? He's a good skater, and we don't often have a frost."
"But on Wellmere! Think of the danger!"
"I often skated across Wellmere when I was a boy. I would not object to
do it again if I had the time to spare. I declare the sight of the
skates tempted me."
"I don't believe Mr Scarfe can swim. What would happen if there were
an accident?"
"I think you overrate the danger," said her husband; "however, if it
pleases you, I will get Jeffreys to go with them. He can swim, and I
dare say he can skate, too."
Mrs Rimbolt shied a little at the suggestion, but yielded to it as a
compromise, being better than nothing.
Jeffreys would fain have evaded this unexpected service.
"I have no skates," he said, when Mr Rimbolt proposed it.
"Yes; the ironmonger sent up a pair for me, and as I can't use them you
are welcome to them."
"Did you not want the books from Sotheby's collated before to-morrow?"
"No, Saturday will do. Honestly, Jeffreys, I would be more comfortable,
so would Mrs Rimbolt, if you went. We have experience of the care you
take of Percy. So, you see, I ask a favour."
It was useless to hold out.
"I will go," said he; and it was settled.
An hour later Scarfe, Percy, Jeffreys, and Julius stood at the hall door
ready to start.
"Where's Raby, I say?" cried Percy; "she said she'd come."
"I do not wish Raby to go."
"Oh, look here, mother, as if we couldn't look after her; eh, Scarfe?"
"It will be no pleasure without Miss Atherton," said Scarfe.
"Can't she come, father?" said Percy, adroitly appealing to Caesar.
"I really think it would be a pity she should miss the fun."
"Huzzah! Raby, where are you? Look sharp! father says you can come,
and we're waiting!" cried Percy.
Raby, who had been watching the party rather wistfully, did not keep
them long waiting.
Wellmere was a large lake some five miles long and a mile across. In
times of frost it not unfrequently became partially frozen, but owing to
the current of the river which passed through it, it seldom froze so
completely as to allow of being traversed on skates. This, however, was
an extraordinary frost, and the feat of the adventurer on New Year's Day
had been several times repeated already.
The Wildtree party found the ice in excellent order, and the
exhilarating sensation of skimming over the glassy surface banished for
the time all the unpleasant impressions of the walk. It was several
years since Jeffreys had worn skates, but he found that five minutes was
sufficient to render him at home on the ice. He eschewed figures, and
devoted himself entirely to straightforward skating, which, as it
happened, was all that Percy could accomplish--all, indeed, that he
aspired too.
It therefore happened naturally that Scarfe and Raby, who cultivated the
eccentricities of skating, were left to their own devices, while
Jeffreys, accompanied of course by Julius, kept pace with his young hero
for the distant shore. It was a magnificent stretch. The wind was
dead, the ice was perfect, and their skates were true and sharp.
"Isn't this grand?" cried Percy, all aglow, as they scudded along, far
outstripping the perplexed Julius. "Better than smoking cigarettes, eh,
old Jeff?"
Jeffreys accepted this characteristic tender of reconciliation with a
thankful smile.
"I was never on such ice!" said he.
"Looks as if it couldn't thaw, doesn't it?" said Percy.
"It's better here in the middle than nearer the shore. I hope those two
won't get too near the river, it looks more shaky there."
"Trust Scarfe! He knows what's what! I say, aren't he and Raby
spoons?"
"Mind that log of wood. It must be pretty shallow here," said Jeffreys,
his face glowing with something more than the exercise.
They made a most successful crossing. Returning, a slight breeze behind
them favoured their progress, and poor Julius had a sterner chase than
ever.
As they neared their starting-point Jeffreys looked about rather
anxiously for Scarfe and Raby, who, tiring of their fancy skating, had
started on a little excursion of their own out into the lake.
"I wish they wouldn't go that way," said he, as he watched them skimming
along hand-in-hand; "it may be all right, but the current is sure to
make the ice weaker than out here."
"Oh, they're all serene," said Percy. "I'll yell to them when we get
near enough."
Presently, as they themselves neared the shore, they noticed Scarfe turn
and make for the land, evidently for something that had been forgotten,
or else to make good some defect in his skates. Raby, while waiting,
amused herself with cutting some graceful figures and curvetting to and
fro, but always, as Jeffreys noted with concern, edging nearer to the
river.
Percy shouted and waved to her to come the other way. She answered the
call gaily and started towards them. Almost as she started there was a
crack, like the report of a gun, followed by a cry from the girl.
Jeffreys, with an exclamation of horror and a call to Julius, dashed in
an instant towards her. The light girlish figure, however, glided
safely over the place of danger. Jeffreys had just time to swerve and
let her pass, and next moment he was struggling heavily twenty yards
beyond in ten feet of icy water.
It all happened in a moment. Percy's shout, the crack, the girl's cry,
and Julius's wild howl, all seemed part of the same noise.
Percy, the first of the spectators to recover his self-possession,
shouted to Scarfe, and started for the whole.
"I'm all right, don't come nearer," called Jeffreys, as he approached;
"there's a ladder there, where Scarfe is. Bring it."
Percy darted off at a tangent, leaving Jeffreys, cool in body and mind,
to await his return. To an ordinarily excitable person, the position
was a critical one. The water was numbing; the ice at the edge of the
hole was rotten, and broke away with every effort he made to climb on to
it; even Julius, floundering beside him, bewildered, and at times a dead
weight on his arms and neck, was embarrassing. Jeffreys, however, did
not exhaust himself by wild struggles. He laid his stick across the
corner of the hole where the ice seemed firmest, and with his arms upon
it propped himself with tolerable security. He ordered the dog out of
the water and made him lie still at a little distance on the ice. He
even contrived to kick off one boot, skate and all, into the water, but
was too numbed to rid himself of the other.
It seemed an eternity while Scarfe and Percy approached with the ladder,
with Raby, terrified and pale, hovering behind.
"Don't come nearer," he shouted, when at last they got within reach.
"Slide it along."
They pushed it, and it slipped to within a yard of him.
Julius, who appeared to have mastered the situation, jumped forward, and
fixing his teeth in the top rung, dragged it the remaining distance.
The remainder was easy. Scarfe crawled along the ladder cautiously till
within reach of the almost exhausted Jeffreys, and caught him under the
shoulder, dragging him partially up.
"I can hold now," said Jeffreys, "if you and Percy will drag the ladder.
Julius, hold me, and drag too."
This combined effort succeeded. A minute later, Jeffreys, numbed with
cold but otherwise unhurt, was being escorted on his one skate between
Percy and Scarfe for the shore, where Raby awaited him with a look that
revived him as nothing else could.