An hour later Stowell was in Derby Haven, a little fishing village,
smelling of sea-wrack and echoing with the cry of gulls.
The Misses Brown, in their oiled ringlets and faded satin dresses,
received him, in their old maids' sitting-room, with much ceremony,
and he speedily realised that Gell, in trying to shield him, had gone
farther than he expected.
"You wish to see Miss Collister? Well, since you are such a close
friend of Mr. Gell there can be no objection.... Bessie! A
gentleman to see you."
Stowell heard Bessie coming downstairs with great alacrity, but on
seeing him she drew up with a certain embarrassment.
"Oh, it's you?"
She was shorter than he had thought, and the impression made by her
photograph of something common in her beauty was deepened by the
reality.
"Should we take a walk?" he said.
She hesitated for a moment, then went upstairs and returned presently
in a round hat and a close-fitting costume which sat awkwardly upon
her. What a change! Where was the free, warm, natural, full-bosomed
girl with bare neck and sunburnt arms who had fascinated him in the
glen?
They took the unfrequented path on the western side of Langness--a
long serpentine tongue of land which protruded from the open mouth of
the sea. He tried to begin upon the subject of his errand but found
it impossible to do so.
"Bye and bye," he thought, "bye and bye."
Bessie kept step with him, but was almost silent. He asked if she
was comfortable in her new quarters, and she said they were lonesome
after the farm, but old Miss Brown was a dear and Miss Ethel a "dozey
duck."
The common expression humiliated him. He inquired if she had been
able to relieve her mother's anxiety, and she answered no, how could
she, without letting her stepfather know where she was?
"They're telling me he's travelling the island over looking for me,
but I don't know why. He was always dead nuts on me when I was at
home."
Again he felt ashamed. He found it impossible to keep up a
conversation with the girl. To attempt to do so was like throwing a
stone into the sand--no echo, no response.
Only once did Bessie say anything for herself. She was walking on
the landward side of the path, and seeing an old man, with a pair of
horses, grubbing a hungry-looking field, with a cloud of sea-gulls
swirling behind him, she said it was dirty land, full of scutch, and
the farmer was laying it open to the frosts of winter.
Stowell was feeling the sweat on his forehead. How was it possible
to lift up a girl like this? She would be the farm girl to the last.
Good Lord, what magic was there in marriage to change people and
ensure their happiness?
Ballamoar? That lonesome place inside the tall trees! He might shut
out her family, but would not she--illiterate, uninteresting,
inadequate--shut out his friends? And then, he and she together
there, with nothing in common, alone, in the long nights of winter
.... Oh God!
Ashamed of thinking like that of the girl, and having reached the
lighthouse by this time, he drew her arm through his and turned to go
back. The warmth of the contact revived a little of the former
thrill, and he laughed and talked.
The voice of the sea was low that day, and across the bay came shouts
and cheers in fresh young voices--the boys of King William's were
playing football. That brought memories to both of them and he began
to talk about Gell.
"Dear old Alick, he's such a good fellow, isn't he?"
"'Deed he is," said Bessie.
"By the way, he's a sort of old flame of yours, I believe," said
Stowell, looking sideways at the girl, and Bessie blushed and
laughed, but made no answer.
Those black eyes, those full red lips. Yes, this was the girl who....
But the idea of a marriage founded on the passion which had brought
them together revolted him now, and he let Bessie's arm fall to his
side.
When they got back to the old maid's cottage he had still said
nothing of what he had come to say. "Later on," he was telling
himself, but a secret voice inside was whispering, "Never! It is
impossible!"
The elder of the Miss Browns followed him to the gate to ask if he
did not see a great improvement in her charge, and when he said that
Bessie seemed to be a little subdued, she cried:
"Bessie? Oh dear no, not generally! Ask Mr. Gell."
Perhaps the girl was not well to-day--they had thought she had not
been very well lately.
"And how is she getting on with...." (the word stuck in his throat)
"with her lessons?"
"Wonderfully! Of course she has long arrears to make up, but the way
she works to fit herself for her new station .... well, it's enough
to make a person cry, really."
Stowell felt as if something were taking him by the throat.
"In fact my sister and I used to wonder and wonder what she did with
her bedroom candles until we found out she was sitting up after
everybody had gone to sleep to learn her grammar and spelling."
Stowell felt as if something had struck him in the face. Every hard
thought about Bessie seemed to be wiped out of his mind in a moment.
Going back to Port Erin (he walked all the way) he could think of
nothing but that girl sitting up in her bedroom to educate herself,
in her poor little way, that she might become worthy to be his wife.
If he disappointed her now what would become of her? Would she kill
herself? Would the world kill her? Kate Kinrade? The days of the
Bishop and the woman were not over yet.
No, he must keep his pledge, and make no more wry faces about it. If
it had been his duty before it was more than ever his duty now.
But Fenella?
He must put her out of his mind for ever. He would be the most
unhappy man alive, but then his own happiness was not the only thing
he had to think about. He could not live any longer under false
pretences. He must find some way of telling Fenella that he had
engaged himself while she was away--that he was a pledged man.
But what then? There would be nothing more between them as long as
they lived--not a smile or the clasp of a hand! She whom he had
loved so long, never having loved anybody else! It would be like
signing his death-warrant.
The dead leaves from the roadside were driving over his feet; his
eyes ached and his throat throbbed, but he gulped down his emotion.
After all he would be the only sufferer! Thank God for that anyway!
As he reached Port Erin, he saw the white sails of the yacht against
the blue sea and sky.
"Yes, I must tell Fenella--I must tell her to-night," he thought.