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THE DARK TOWER
BY PHYLLIS BOTTOME
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
J. H. GARDNER SOPER
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1916
Copyright, 1916, by
THE CENTURY CO.
Published, September, 1916
Dauntless the slughorn to my lips I set,
and blew "Child Roland to the dark tower came."
--Robert Browning
TO
W. W. D. H.
"God forbid that I should do this thing.
If our time be come, let us die manfully for our brethren
And let us not stain our honour."
_I Maccabees, ix, 10._
[Illustration: "I shall never be dangerous for you, Miss Rivers," he
said gently]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"I shall never be dangerous for you, Miss Rivers," he said gently
"You may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though," Winn remarked
without turning round from the sideboard.
In his heart there was nothing left to which he could compare her
"I don't want a chance," whispered Claire
"You've got to live," said Winn, bending grimly over him; "You've got to
live!"
THE DARK TOWER
PART I
CHAPTER I
Winn Staines respected God, the royal family, and his regiment; but even
his respect for these three things was in many ways academic: he
respected nothing else.
His father, Admiral Sir Peter Staines, had never respected anything; he
went to church, however, because his wife didn't. They were that kind of
family.
Lady Staines had had twelve children. Seven of them died as promptly as
their constitutions allowed; the five survivors, shouted at, quarreled
over, and soundly thrashed, tore themselves through a violent childhood
into a rackety youth. They were never vicious, for they never reflected
over or considered anything that they did.
Winn got drunk occasionally, assaulted policemen frequently, and could
carry a small pony under each arm. Charles and James, who were in the
navy, followed in the footsteps of Sir Peter; that is to say, they
explored all possible accidents on sea or ashore, and sought for a fight
as if it were a mislaid crown jewel.
Dolores and Isabella had to content themselves with minor feats and to
be known merely as the terrors of the neighborhood, though ultimately
Dolores succeeded in making a handsome splash by running away with a
prize-fighting groom. She made him an excellent wife, and though Lady
Staines never mentioned her name again, it was rumored that Sir Peter
met her surreptitiously at Tattersall's and took her advice upon his
horses.
Isabella, shocked and outraged by this sisterly mischance, married, in
the face of all probability, a reluctant curate. He subsided into a
family living given to him by Sir Peter, and tried to die of
consumption.
Isabella took entire control of the parish, which she ruled as if it
were a quarter-deck. She did not use her father's language, but she
inherited his voice. It rang over boys' clubs and into mothers'
meetings with the penetration and volume of a megaphone.
Lady Staines heartily disliked both her daughters, and she appeared not
to care very deeply for her sons, but of the three she had a decided
preference for Winn. Winn had a wicked temper, an unshakable nerve, and
had inherited the strength of Sir Peter's muscles and the sledge-hammer
weight of Lady Staines's wit. He had been expelled from his private
school for unparalleled insolence to the head master; a repetition of
his summing up of that gentleman's life and conduct delighted his
mother, though she assisted Sir Peter in thrashing him for the result.
It may have contributed to his mother's affection for him that Winn had
left England at nineteen, and had reached thirty-five with only two
small intervals at home.
His first leave had kept them all busy with what the Staines considered
a wholly unprovoked lawsuit; a man whom Winn had most unfortunately felt
it his duty to fling from a bus into the street, having the weak-minded
debility to break his leg had the further audacity to claim enormous
damages. The Staines fought the case _en bloc_ with splendid zeal, and
fiery eloquence. It would probably have resulted better for their
interests if they had not defied their own counsel, outraged the
respectable minds of the jury, and insulted the learned judge. Under
these circumstances they lost their case, and the rest of Winn's leave
was taken up in the Family's congenial pursuit of laying the blame on
each other.
The second and more fatal visit heralded Winn's marriage. He had not had
time to marry before. It would not be true to say that women had played
no part in his experiences, but the part they had played was neither
exalted nor durable. They figured in his imagination as an inferior type
of game, tiresome when captured. His life had been spent mainly in
pursuit of larger objects. He had been sent straight from Sandhurst to
South Africa, where he had fought with violence and satisfaction for two
years, winning the D. S. O., a broken nose, and a cut across the face.
When the fighting was over, he obtained leave for a two-years' exploring
expedition into the heart of West Africa. Ten men had gone on this
expedition, and two survived. Winn never talked of these experiences,
but he once admitted to a friend that the early study of his sisters'
characters had saved him in many awkward moments. He had known how to
appeal to female savages with the unerring touch of experience.
From West Africa he was called to the Indian frontier, where he put in
seven years in variegated and extremely useful service. He received his
majority early, and disappeared for two years into Tibet, Manchuria, and
China. After that he came back to England for polo, and met Estelle
Fanshawe. She was lovely, gentle, intensely vain, and not very truthful.
Lady Staines disposed of her at once as "a mincing ninny." The phrase
aggravated Winn, and his fancy deepened. It was stimulated by the fact
that Estelle was the belle of the neighborhood and had a large supply of
ardent admirers. It was almost like running a race with the odds against
you. Winn was not a conceited man, and perhaps he thought the odds more
against him than they actually were. He was the second son of a man who
was immensely rich, (though Sir Peter was reported stingy to his
children). Everybody knew who the Staines were, while the Fanshawes
after every effort and with nearly every attraction had not become a
part of public knowledge. Besides, Estelle had been made love to for
some time, and Winn's way was undeniably different from that of her
other admirers.
He met her at a dance, and insisted upon dancing with her the whole
evening. He took her card away from her, and scored off all her
indignant partners. In the interval of these decisive actions he made
love to her in a steady, definite way that was difficult to laugh at and
impossible to turn aside.
When he said good-night to her he told her that he would probably come
and see her soon. She went away in a flutter, for his words, though
casual, had had a sharply significant sound; besides, he had very nearly
kissed her; if she had been more truthful, she would have said quite.
She didn't, in thinking it over, know at all how this had happened, and
she generally knew precisely how these things happened.
Lady Staines told her son at breakfast a few mornings later what she
thought of Miss Fanshawe.
"She's a girl," she observed, knocking the top off her egg, "who will
develop into a nervous invalid or an advanced coquette, and it entirely
depends upon how much admiration she gets which she does. I hear she's
religious, too, in a silly, egotistical way. She ought to have her neck
wrung."
Sir Peter disagreed; they heard him in the servants' hall.
"Certainly not!" he roared; "certainly not! I don't think so at all! The
girl's a damned pretty piece, and the man's one of my best tenants. He's
only just come, and he's done wonders to the place already. And I won't
have the boy crabbed for fancying a neighbor! It's very natural he
should. You never have a woman in the house fit to look at. Who the
devil do you expect your boys to marry? Negresses or bar-maids?"
"Gentlewomen," said Lady Staines, firmly, "unless their father's
behavior prevents them from being accepted."
Winn said nothing. He got up and began cutting ham at the sideboard. His
mother hesitated a moment; but as she had only roused one of her men,
she made a further effort in the direction of the other.
"The girl's a mean-spirited little liar," she observed. "I wouldn't take
her as a housemaid."
"You may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though," Winn remarked
without turning round from the sideboard.
[Illustration: "You may have to take her as a daughter-in-law, though,"
Winn remarked without turning round from the sideboard]
Sir Peter grunted. He didn't like this at all, but he couldn't very well
say so without appearing to agree with his wife, a thing he had
carefully avoided doing for thirty years.
Lady Staines rose and gathered up her letters.
"You're of age," she said to her son, "and you've had about as much
experience of civilized women as a European baby has of crocodiles, and
you'll be just about as safe and clever with them. As for you, Peter,
pray don't trouble to tell me what you think of the Fanshawes in a
year's time. You've never had a tenant you haven't had a lawsuit with
yet, and this time you'll be adding Winn's divorce proceedings to your
other troubles. I should think you might begin to save toward the
damages now."
Sir Peter's oaths accompanied his wife across the dining-room to the
door, which her son opened ceremoniously for her. Their eyes crossed
like swords.
"If I get that girl, you'll be nice to her," Winn said in a low voice.
"As long as you are," replied Lady Staines, with a grim smile. He did
not bang the door after her, as she had hoped; instead, he went to see
the girl.