EVELYN'S ADVENTURE
After Bernard had gone, Mrs. Halliday talked to Evelyn. At first she
was cautious and rather implied than stated her meaning, but by degrees
she threw off her reserve. Although Evelyn and her mother generally
agreed, Mrs. Halliday felt she was antagonistic, and this disturbed
her. Evelyn was not romantic; as a rule, her judgment was cool and
sound, but she was human, and it began to look as if she were strongly
attracted by Jim Dearham.
"On the whole, it would be better if you did not go to Langrigg
to-morrow," Mrs. Halliday concluded. "You can make an excuse."
"I think not," said Evelyn. "You urged me not to disappoint Jim the
last time we went, but we will let this go. Now he has had bad luck,
it would look significant if you suddenly withdrew your approval. He
knew it was his not long since."
"In a way, I am forced to withdraw it. I like Jim----"
"But you do not like him to be poor," Evelyn interrupted with a smile.
"Well, it seems to me a proper and tactful line for his friends to
rally round him when he is in trouble."
"One can, of course, be sympathetic if one meets him."
Evelyn laughed. "But one need not go too far?" She paused and gave
her mother a steady look. "Langrigg is a fine old house, I don't
suppose Jim is ruined, and I have some money. Then you have taught me
to expect that I may get some more."
"Bernard is capricious. He has a bitter humor and may disappoint us
all. You have come to think refinement needful; you are extravagant
and could not live with an impoverished husband. Let me beg you not to
be obstinate and rash."
"Ah," said Evelyn, "I sometimes felt I would like to be rash, but was
not brave enough. I do not know if I have much courage now."
Mrs. Halliday got up. Perhaps she had said enough and after all one
could trust Evelyn when she was cool. It looked as if the girl's
disappointment had been sharp, and the wise plan was to leave her
alone. Yet she was puzzled; Evelyn had given signs of a recklessness
her mother thought new.
When Mrs. Halliday went out Evelyn tried to formulate her thoughts. To
begin with, her mother's calculating caution repelled her; it had made
her feel shabby. Then she had, no doubt, taken much for granted. Jim
had, perhaps, had bad luck, but this did not mean that he was
impoverished, and after all there were many expensive things one could
go without. She was not as greedy as some people thought. Indeed, it
would be rather fine to make a plunge; to let cold caution go and play
a romantic part.
She mused about Jim. He was marked by a certain roughness, but he had
dignity. He gave one pleasant thrills--there was the scene on the dyke
when she was half-shocked and yet strangely moved. His physical
fineness appealed; his figure was like an old Greek athlete's, his face
was sharply cut and somehow ascetic. He was hot-blooded, but one knew
he was not gross. His was a clean virility.
Evelyn thought she loved him, as much as she could love anybody, for
she had not been touched by passion, and it counted for something that
he loved her. The reserve he thought he used was, of course,
ridiculous. Evelyn resolved she would go to Langrigg and sympathize
with Jim. Then she would wait and by and by her feelings might get
stronger and she would see her way. She would not admit that the
possibility of learning whether Jim would get over his difficulties had
some influence.
Next evening she went to Langrigg, without Mrs. Halliday, who made an
excuse. Jim called for her with his car, and, for the most part, she
was quiet and he did not talk much. There were steep hills and awkward
corners as they ran down from the rolling country to the plain. The
evening was calm and the noise of the sea came softly out of the
distance. Now and then plover and curlew cried, a half-moon hung in
the west, and the black hills rose out of fleecy mist. Evelyn was
imaginative and liked the drive across the flat holms in the dark. It
was romantic ground, rich with traditions of the old Border raids, and
now as she watched Jim, sitting, absorbed, with his hands on the wheel,
she felt he, so to speak, dated back. He drove the powerful modern car
with ease and skill, but somehow she imagined him wearing steel cap and
leather jack and guiding a shaggy pony. Perhaps it was the picture in
a hall she knew that haunted her. One saw the shadowy horsemen and
glitter of spears in the moonlight.
Meanwhile, she gave herself to irresolute thought. Jim had some
advantages and some drawbacks; Evelyn saw the drawbacks plainly. He
attracted her; it would be exciting to let him carry her away and
embark with him on a romantic adventure. She knew he had recently used
a stern control, but he was hot-blooded and his reserve might be
undermined. Yet there was a risk; she must give up much. She was
drawn in different ways by romance and worldly caution and it looked as
if caution would win.
Soon after she reached Langrigg Mordaunt arrived with Dick. The latter
declared that Jim was a very good sort, and Evelyn knew his feeling was
sincere, but she imagined Dick liked Carrie and was sometimes
disturbed. For all that, she had been relieved to note that Carrie
liked Dick.
Dinner was a cheerful function, but when they went back to the hall
Evelyn was quiet. Joseph Dearham and others had made some renovations
in the hall, but they harmonized with the crooked roof-beams and dark
oak. There were one or two tall lamps and another that hung by iron
chains, but Jim generally used candles in old silver stands. Evelyn
wondered how Jim knew that candles were right. It was strange that he
often, unconsciously, she thought, struck the proper note.
She studied him and Jake while she talked to Mrs. Winter. Jim seldom
wore conventional evening clothes, but he had put on an American
dinner-jacket. He and his comrade were strangely agile; their
movements were quick, their step was light, like a cat's, and she noted
how they lifted their feet. She did not know the prospector gets the
habit by walking through tangled bush and across rough stones. They
had a suppleness that came from using the long ax, and toil in the
wilds had given them a fine-drawn look. In some ways both were modern,
but in some they belonged to the past, when the fortress peels were
built and the marsh-men fought the Scots.
Jim crossed the floor, and when he began to talk to Carrie, Evelyn felt
a jealous pang. The girl had been in the woods with Jim; she had
beauty and a curious primitive strength. Jim leaned forward, smiling
as he talked to her; they talked confidentially, like tried comrades.
Evelyn was moved to something near anger and went to the old grand
piano Jim had brought from the drawing-room when he found that Carrie
could play ragtime airs. Evelyn had a talent for music and meant to
make an experiment. If Jim was what she thought, he would respond.
"If somebody will light the candles, I will sing," she said.
The candles had pale-yellow shades and when Jim struck a match the
colored light touched her face and dress. Except for this, the corner
was somewhat dark. Amber was Evelyn's color. She struck a few chords
that seemed to echo in the distance and then, glancing at Jim, began a
prelude with a measured beat. His face was intent; he seemed to search
for something in the music that sounded as if it were getting nearer.
She wondered whether he heard the call of trumpets and horses' feet
drumming in the dark. Somehow she thought he did.
Perhaps she was debasing her talent; this kind of thing was rather a
theatrical trick than music. For all that, it needed feeling, and she
knew the old Border ballads and their almost forgotten airs. Jim was
very still when she began to sing, for her voice and the music moved
him strongly. The air was wild, the rude words rang with something one
felt when one battled with floods and snowslides. They told how the
moss-troopers rode down Ettrick water long ago; but human nature did
not change and hard-bitten men now went out on the snowy trail,
carrying shovels and axes instead of spears. But how did Evelyn,
surrounded by luxurious refinements, understand?
"It's fine!" he exclaimed when she stopped. "You have got it just
right; horses' feet, and harness jingling. But you go back of that to
the feeling one has when one braces up and sets one's mouth tight."
Evelyn laughed and looked at Mordaunt, who frowned. "Perhaps you are
easily satisfied, Jim, but music, critical folks contemptuously call
descriptive, needs some talent." She paused and beat out a few bars
imitating a horse's gallop. "It really does go back of this."
"Never mind critical folks," said Jim. "Sing another--the song of
Flodden."
"I'm not sure the song you mean has really much to do with Flodden, but
I know one that has. It's old and rude, like the Borderers. You know
a band would not fight, but were too proud to run away. They stood
fast, by themselves, and were shot down by the archers while the loyal
Scots fell round their wounded king. This, however, is shocking art;
it's like writing what you are meant to see at the top of a picture. I
know it annoys Lance."
"I can endure much from you," Mordaunt rejoined.
Evelyn struck the keys and began to sing. Words and air had a strange
barbaric force, and Jim pictured the stern Scots spearmen closing round
their fallen monarch and their hate for the stubborn mutineers. The
blood came to his skin when the music stopped and the girl's voice
flung out a dying soldier's curse. The curse was strangely modern; one
heard it often in the West.
"Thank you! You have not sung like this before," he said, and turned
to Jake. "How does it strike you, partner?"
"It hits me where I feel it, and hits me hard. I reckon the men who
fought that old battle meant to make good. I don't know how Miss
Halliday knows what a man with red blood feels when he's got to put
over a big hard job, but she does know."
"I'm afraid you would make me vain," said Evelyn.
She turned as she left the piano and gave Carrie a quick glance. A
sharp jealousy seized her, for while she could imagine what a strong
man felt, Carrie really knew. She had fronted danger with Jim; she had
watched and helped his struggle in the lonely North. Evelyn was
suddenly afraid of Carrie. She was a powerful rival.
The party went to the billiard-room, but Evelyn would not play and sat
in a corner, thinking hard. She was highly-strung, and her hesitation
had vanished. Jim loved her and nobody else should claim him. Perhaps
she was rash, but she had begun to feel passion, and saw she must
embark upon her great adventure now, when Jim had had reverses and was
smarting from the blow. He must see that she had pluck and was willing
to bear his troubles. After all, to have done with caution was
exhilarating. Yet she knew her lover. He would not ask her to make a
sacrifice for him; unless his luck changed he would keep up his
reserve. Well, she must break it down, and she knew her power. Then
she turned as Mordaunt stopped by the bench she occupied.
"I think you did not like my song," she said.
"You know I did not," Mordaunt rejoined. "Anyhow, I didn't like your
exaggerated rendering of a ballad that is probably genuine, though one
authority states it was written about an ancient football match. They
played football before the Scottish wars in the Border towns."
"Is this important?"
"It is not. I thought you were putting your talent to a shabby use."
"Art is imitation," Evelyn remarked with a mocking smile. "Why should
one not imitate the drumming of horses' feet? or, for example, a storm
at sea? I believe that kind of thing is popular at cheap concerts."
Mordaunt frowned. "You well know what your gift is worth. It's too
fine to be used in order to rouse crude emotions in a handsome savage
like Jim."
"Ah," said Evelyn, with a sparkle in her eyes, "are the great emotions
crude? Courage and loyalty that led to deeds that live four hundred
years? I don't know if our refinements would stand comparison with the
big primitive things."
"Jim is certainly primitive," Mordaunt sneered.
"And he's big! So big that he makes other men look small! I was
disturbed when I saw him, bruised and muddy, that day at the marsh; but
I begin to understand I was ridiculous. He fought the smith because he
was accountable for his men."
"Oh, well; I expect he would value your approval," said Mordaunt, who
saw Jim go out. "It looks as if he were getting bored."
Evelyn smiled. "He keeps some dyking plans in the hall. I don't think
he will be bored if I join him." She got up languidly. "Since you are
not very amusing, I will go."
She went off and found Jim opening a drawer. "You can study your
plans; I won't disturb you," she said, sitting down by the fire. "I
really don't care for billiards."
He shut the drawer and leaned against a table opposite. "You were not
playing billiards; you were talking to Lance. That was why I went
away."
"You flatter me," said Evelyn. "But don't leave the plans. I expect
they are important."
"They are important. The rain is giving us trouble, and although I
began the job to occupy my leisure, I'm going to finish it because I
must."
"I think I understand. I am sorry you have had bad luck in Canada."
"Thank you. How did you know?"
"Bernard told us."
"I wonder why," Jim remarked, thoughtfully. "Although it doesn't
matter much, I didn't expect him to tell."
Evelyn pondered. Bernard had, no doubt, had an object, but she could
solve the puzzle afterwards. She was alone with Jim, and in a few
minutes the others might return.
"I was rather hurt when I found you had given Bernard your confidence
and left me out," she said. "But does this reverse in Canada hit you
hard?"
"It was a nasty knock. I expect to get over it, but it will be some
time before I recover the ground I've lost. Things will be better when
we plow the land I'm reclaiming from the marsh."
"In the meantime, you will have to struggle?"
"Yes," said Jim, rather grimly, "it will be a struggle. But that is
not all----"
He pulled himself up. There was a risk that he might say too much, and
while he hesitated Evelyn listened. The door was open and the house
was quiet, but she could not hear the click of the billiard balls. It
looked as if Dick and Carrie had finished their game, there was no time
for clever maneuvering; she must be frank. She gave Jim a quick glance
and then looked away.
"Jim," she said, "I am not poor."
He started, and his face got red. Evelyn's meaning was obvious, but he
could hardly persuade himself that he had grasped it.
"Much of my money has gone and I may not get it back," he said, with
forced quietness. "In one way, this does not matter; I'm not greedy,
but I'm proud. I must farm the reclaimed land and make my farming
profitable; I can't keep up Langrigg as my friends expect. I've got to
live and work as I lived and worked in Canada."
"People do live in the woods and on the plains. Do you think your
countrywomen have less pluck than these others? Are we dull and weak,
afraid of hardship and only willing to be amused?"
Jim lifted his head and laughed. "All this is ridiculous! I haven't
met many English girls, but you are the finest thing in a woman's shape
I have known. I've thought about you always since that day at
Montreal. When they told me Langrigg was mine I would have sold it had
I not thought I might find you in the Old Country."
"Then you didn't know I was here?"
"I did not," said Jim, who forgot his reserve and let himself go.
"When I saw you on the terrace, I got a thrill and a sense of triumph
I'd never known before. But to find you was not enough; I had got to
claim, and keep you. I'd got to have something to offer; I had to
justify myself. Well, that's why I began to drain the marsh----"
Evelyn stopped him. "I wasn't worth it, Jim," she said, with
half-ashamed sincerity. "But I understand; you are too proud to take,
you want to give. Although you're foolish, I like your pride."
For a moment Jim was silent and his face got hard. "It's done with,"
he said, rather hoarsely. "I meant to make good before I claimed you,
and this loss has set me back. I'm not beaten, but I must wait until I
can give you all you ought to have. You're so fine and highly-tempered
that you're fragile; rough jolts and jars are not for such as you.
I've got to work----"
She got up and looked at him shyly, with color in her face and her eyes
shining.
"And until you make good, you mean to leave me out? Will it cost you
nothing, Jim?"
"It will cost me much," he said, grimly. "More than I durst reckon,
but I must brace up and pay."
"But suppose I will not let you leave me out? Am I to give nothing?"
Evelyn asked. "Besides, it's my right to choose, and you meant to rob
me of my right. If I didn't know you well, I should be angry.
Langrigg is yours; but if you had nothing, do you think I'd keep our
extravagance at Whitelees and let you go?" She turned her head and
then looked up, stretching out her hands. "I can't let you go! I want
to help."
Jim took her hands and next moment she was in his arms. Then there
were steps in the passage and she gently pushed him back.
"You must tell nobody just yet," she said.
The others came in and Mordaunt looked at Evelyn rather hard, but she
went to the piano and opening a music-book, beckoned Dick.
"You know this," she said. "I'll play it for you."