EVELYN'S RESOLUTION FAILS
Disturbing thoughts spoiled Dick's visit to town and one morning soon
after his return he went out on the sands when the tide was low. He
took a note-book and a compass, and before he went walked up and down a
measured distance on the lawn until he thought he knew the length of
his stride. Since he was going to make some investigations that he
tried to hope would banish his doubts, it was necessary to be accurate.
He found the spot where Jim had left his punt; there was a little
runlet of water down the bank that fixed it, and he stepped off the
distance to the level sand above. Then he smoked a pipe while he tried
to recapture the footsteps as he had seen them in the moonlight, and
when he was roughly satisfied, went across to the creek that ran into
the main channel.
He counted his steps until he reached the spot where the shadowy figure
had vanished in the fog. The creek bent just there; he remembered the
bend, which he had cut across, and the bank was steep. If Lance,
wearing light-colored shooting clothes, had gone into the hollow,
nobody could have seen him a few yards off. Dick made some notes and
marked the distances, and then went back to Whitelees, feeling
strangely troubled. His doubts had not vanished; they had changed to
certainties.
Dick was young and often careless, but now a sense of responsibility
weighed upon him. He had a liking for Jim and an affection for Carrie
that might have ripened to a stronger feeling had she allowed it, and
both had run some risk of being drowned. For all that, Dick could not
see his way. The honor of the house must be guarded, and although he
knew himself a coward he hesitated for a miserable week.
Then Jim came to Whitelees one evening when Mrs. Halliday and Dick were
dining somewhere else. He stopped for two or three hours, and
unluckily Evelyn was bored when he arrived and Jim was dull. He had
had a disappointing day, for a sluice-gate had fallen down, a workman
had got hurt, and a valuable horse had broken its leg. Jim talked
about his troubles at some length while Evelyn tried to look
sympathetic, and afterwards stated, with numerous particulars, his
projects for improving the estate, although he carefully explained that
his losing his money might prevent their being carried out. While he
sketched his plans he unconsciously delineated his character, and when
he went away Evelyn felt daunted.
Pulling a chair to the fire, she sat for a time trying to face a crisis
she had begun to fear must come. She had thought she understood Jim
and had known that when she married him she must give up much; but now
she saw him as he really was. He cared nothing for amusements and not
much for music and art; in fact, he had no use for the refinements and
amenities that smoothed the life she enjoyed. Langrigg could not be
made a center of pleasant social intercourse and perhaps political
influence; Jim's wife must study economy and help to manage his farms.
It was not that he was selfish. All his habits were utilitarian and he
would not change. Well, she could not marry a farmer and devote
herself to strenuous work. She must be amused; the life Jim had
planned for her was frankly impossible. Getting up before Mrs.
Halliday returned, she left word that she had a headache and went to
bed.
Next morning Mordaunt came to Whitelees and found Evelyn alone. He sat
down opposite with a careless smile and she noted his smooth urbanity
and easy pose. Jim as a rule was restless, and highly-strung.
"Seeing Dick and your mother in the car encouraged me to call," he
said. "Dick and I were staunch friends, but I didn't want to meet him.
He has recently been strange."
"He has been moody since he came from town, although he was not in very
good spirits the morning he left," Evelyn agreed in a thoughtful voice.
"I imagine something that might account for it happened the night Jim's
friends were lost on the sands."
Mordaunt felt disturbed, but Evelyn's remark stiffened his resolution.
She had noted Dick's moodiness, and since the lad was suspicious he
must act quickly. He might have trouble afterwards, but he would meet
it when it came.
"It's possible," he said, "Dick's temperament is nervous and perhaps he
had some grounds for feeling a strain. I expect you have noted that he
is attracted by Miss Winter?"
"I have noted it," Evelyn admitted with an unconscious frown. "It will
lead to nothing. Dick's romantic, but he is not a fool."
"He is headstrong and his own master. Miss Winter has beauty."
"For all that, it's ridiculous to imagine Dick would marry her."
"I don't know," said Mordaunt, coolly. "You are going to marry Jim."
Evelyn colored, because she knew what he meant. For the most part, the
objections that could be urged against Carrie applied to Jim.
"I don't know if I'm going to marry Jim or not," she said.
Mordaunt looked hard at her and his eyes sparkled. "Ah," he said, "I
imagined something like this would happen; in fact, I have waited for
it. It was plain that Jim would pall. He has his virtues, but he is
not the man for you."
"He has many virtues; he's big and strong and honest. It would be
easier if he had some of our shabby faults. Jim's code is as rude as
himself, but it's stern and he lives up to it. I don't know if I can."
"I know," said Mordaunt, smiling; "you could not! Jim is something of
a savage, but all the same, he belongs to the old school and his
rudeness is austere. We are modern and live on another plane. But how
did you come to see the truth I've seen all along?"
"Jim showed me," Evelyn replied with some feeling. "Unconsciously, of
course. He was here last evening and talked about his plans. They are
good plans. Had I been different, I might have helped, but they left
me out. I don't like to be left out. Am I the girl to satisfy a man
who lives to farm and dig marsh drains? You know me, Lance."
"The thing is ridiculous," Mordaunt declared, and was silent for a
moment or two. He did know Evelyn, and her frankness meant much. It
was plain that she meant to break with Jim but felt she needed help.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said drearily. "I can't go on."
Mordaunt made a sign of sympathetic agreement. "You cannot; but there
is a way out. I think you see the way. Durst I hope you'll take it
with me?"
Evelyn said nothing and turned her head, and he went on: "I'm not
utilitarian, and my rule is yours. We understand each other. My
talents will be used to amuse you and not to dig drains." He got up
and stood by her chair. "You have pluck, Evelyn. Tell Jim you have
found you cheated yourself and let him go."
"I haven't much pluck," she said, quietly. "Jim rather carried me
away. He stood for romance, struggle, and adventure; things I haven't
known. He's a man, a plain, hot-blooded fighting man, and I was tired
of conventional languidness. But I began to doubt and see I wasn't
strong enough to live his life. I had wrapped myself up in flimsy
artificialities until they got needful and I couldn't break loose."
She paused and looked up. "Well, you are my kind, Lance, and if you
want me, I am willing. I'll tell Jim, but I shrink. He may not
understand, and it will hurt us both."
Mordaunt thought for a moment. It might be better if Evelyn did not
tell Jim, and he was afraid Dick would meddle. He took and kissed her
hand.
"My dear!" he said. "But you must not get hurt, and I have a plan.
Hasn't Florence urged you to stop with her in town? Well, suppose you
go and I join you there? We can be married by license and go to France
or Italy. Before we come back Jim's disappointment will have cooled
and our friends have got over their surprise."
Evelyn saw the plan had advantages. It would obviate the need for
awkward apologies, and when she and Lance came back it would be too
late for people to disapprove. She agreed and submitted without
emotion when Mordaunt put his arm round her, but in spite of some
regrets she was firm. Romance had been a treacherous guide; she had
found this out and was logical again. When Mordaunt went away all had
been arranged, and when she sat down to write to Florence in London her
hand was steady and composition easy. After the note was written she
hesitated for a moment, and then resolutely fastened the envelope.
A few days after Evelyn went to town, Dick, coming back from shooting
one afternoon, met Tom Shanks on the marsh. When he saw the fellow his
anger flared up, for he had felt his responsibility and wondered with
keen disturbance what he ought to do. Although Lance was on the sands
the night Carrie was nearly drowned and knew much about the matter,
Dick had grounds for believing Shanks moved the punt. He had meant to
be cautious and wait until he saw his way, but something in the
fellow's furtive, sullen look, banished his control.
He stopped Shanks and found it a relief to let himself go. The other
was cool and hinted darkly that Dick had better leave things alone. He
said Dick had nothing to go upon; he had not seen Shanks near the punt,
and if he went to the police about it, might get somebody else into
trouble. Shanks knew what he knew, and if he were forced would tell.
Dick then used tact, scoffing at the other's hints until Shanks
abandoned some of his reserve, and when the stormy interview was over
Dick went home moodily. The plan he had made of the marks by the punt
was accurate, but the line he ought to take not yet plain. Lance was
his relation.
In the evening he drove Mrs. Halliday to Dryholm, where Jim and his
friends had been asked to dine. They had not arrived, and while
Bernard talked to Mrs. Halliday, Dick went to the library to look at a
book about sport. When he opened the door Mordaunt was writing and
there was a letter, to which he seemed to be replying, on the table.
He nodded and went on writing, and Dick was glad he did not want to
talk. After a few minutes a car rolled up the drive and when Mordaunt
fastened the envelope they heard Jim's party in the hall.
Mordaunt went down stairs and Dick, coming after, saw an envelope on
the floor. Imagining Mordaunt had dropped it, he picked it up and
frowned as he recognized Evelyn's hand. Mordaunt was talking to Mrs.
Winter and Dick did not want to disturb them; besides, he would sooner
give Lance the letter when they were alone. Then Bernard beckoned him
and before long dinner was served.
Dick did not enjoy the meal. He could hardly rouse himself to talk to
Carrie and when she turned to Mordaunt, the latter's careless smile as
he began to joke moved him to almost uncontrollable rage. Dick was in
a black mood, for the secret he carried had worn his nerves, and he did
not like Evelyn's writing to Lance. He was resolved that his sister
should have nothing to do with the fellow. When dinner was over he
said to Mordaunt, "I'd like to see the gun you bought."
"Very well," said Mordaunt and they went to the gun-room.
The room was small. A glass case, holding guns and fishing rods, ran
along one wall; a bench occupied the other. There was a plain table,
stained by oil, and a fire burned in a stove with an open front, for
the night was damp. A flickering glow played about the walls and shone
on the greasy guns. Dick stopped Mordaunt, who put his hand on the
electric-light switch.
"Never mind the light," he said, throwing a letter on the table. "You
dropped this."
"I did," said Mordaunt, turning to Dick, who leaned against the table.
"Imagined I'd put it in my pocket. Thank you for picking it up."
Dick thought it significant that he had not opened the case to get the
new gun. Lance's voice was calm but his glance was quick. He seemed
to be waiting.
"What was Evelyn writing to you about?" Dick asked.
The light from the stove touched Mordaunt's face, which hardened.
"Then, you have not read the letter?"
"You know I have not," Dick rejoined, for his control gave way at the
other's taunt. Lance wanted to make him angry and find out how much he
knew. Well, he should find out and Dick thought he would get a jar.
"Anyhow, you must stop writing to Evelyn," he resumed. "I'd sooner you
kept away from Whitelees when she comes home."
"You bore with my visits not long since. Are you afraid to state why
you want them to stop?"
"Not at all," said Dick, seeing the other meant to force him to be
frank; he knew Lance had pluck. "You are a clever philanderer, but
Evelyn's going to marry Jim."
Mordaunt smiled, imprudently, since his smile infuriated Dick.
"Looks as if you wanted to quarrel! I imagine I shall not write to
Evelyn again for some time. This ought to satisfy you. Perhaps I'm
dull, but I don't know why our friendship should break off."
"You well know!" Dick exclaimed. "You meant to let Jim drown not long
since!"
"You're a theatrical fool," Mordaunt remarked, coolly, although his
voice was rather hoarse. "Anyhow, I think you're sober and you have
made a statement that must be justified."
"I'm willing to justify it, if you force me," Dick declared. "But I'd
sooner you admitted the thing and left the neighborhood, without an
awkward explanation. If you go at once and don't come back, it's
perhaps not needful the others should know why you went. You can live
in town; I don't care where you live, so long as you don't see Evelyn
again."
He stopped and his face got very red, for the door opened and Mrs.
Halliday and Bernard came in.
"I imagined we would find you here, but it looks as if you were
quarreling," Bernard remarked.
"We were quarreling," Dick admitted with strange calm, for he was
relieved that a chance to get rid of his load had come. It was his
duty to tell Jim and Bernard and he had been afraid. Now he could
leave matters to the head of the house.
"You are hot-blooded, Dick, but I don't imagine you would get angry
about nothing. May I inquire the grounds for the dispute?"
"I'll tell you if you will send for Jim. The thing touches him."
Bernard pressed an electric bell and Mordaunt said: "You will be very
sorry for this, Dick."
The bell rang and when a servant came Bernard said, "Tell Mr. Dearham
we would like to see him here."