All the winter the north wind roamed on the hills; many trees fell in the
park, and at the end of February Woodview seemed barer and more desolate
than ever; broken branches littered the roadway, and the tall trunks
showed their wounds. The women sat over their fire in the evening
listening to the blast, cogitating the work that awaited them as soon as
the weather showed signs of breaking.
Mrs. Barfield had laid by a few pounds during the winter; and the day that
Jim cleared out the first piece of espalier trees she spent entirely in
the garden, hardly able to take her eyes off him. But the pleasure of the
day was in a measure spoilt for her by the knowledge that on that day her
son was riding in the great steeplechase. She was full of fear for his
safety; she did not sleep that night, and hurried down at an early hour to
the garden to ask Jim for the newspaper which she had told him to bring
her. He took some time to extract the paper from his torn pocket.
"He isn't in the first three," said Mrs. Barfield. "I always know that
he's safe if he's in the first three. We must turn to the account of the
race to see if there were any accidents."
She turned over the paper.
"Thank God, he's safe," she said; "his horse ran fourth."
"You worry yourself without cause, ma'am. A good rider like him don't meet
with accidents."
"The best riders are often killed, Esther. I never have an easy moment
when I hear he's going to ride in these races. Supposing one day I were to
read that he was carried back on a shutter."
"We mustn't let our thoughts run on such things, ma'am. If a war was to
break out to-morrow, what should I do? His regiment would be ordered out.
It is sad to think that he had to enlist. But, as he said, he couldn't go
on living on me any longer. Poor boy! ...We must keep on working, doing
the best we can for them. There are all sorts of chances, and we can only
pray that God may spare them."
"Yes, Esther, that's all we can do. Work on, work on to the end.... But
your boy is coming to see you to-day."
"Yes, ma'am, he'll be here by twelve o'clock.'"
"You're luckier than I am. I wonder if I shall ever see my boy again."
"Yes, ma'am, of course you will. He'll come back to you right enough one
of these days. There's a good time coming; that's what I always says....
And now I've got work to do in the house. Are you going to stop here, or
are you coming in with me? It'll do you no good standing about in the wet
clay."
Mrs. Barfield smiled and nodded, and Esther paused at the broken gate to
watch her mistress, who stood superintending the clearing away of ten
years' growth of weeds, as much interested in the prospect of a few peas
and cabbages as in former days she had been in the culture of expensive
flowers. She stood on what remained of a gravel walk, the heavy clay
clinging to her boots, watching Jim piling weeds upon his barrow. Would he
be able to finish the plot of ground by the end of the week? What should
they do with that great walnut-tree? Nothing would grow underneath it. Jim
was afraid that he would not be able to cut it down and remove it without
help. Mrs. Barfield suggested sawing away some of the branches, but Jim
was not sure that the expedient would prove of much avail. In his opinion
the tree took all the goodness out of the soil, and that while it stood
they could not expect a very great show of vegetables. Mrs. Barfield asked
if the sale of the tree trunk would indemnify her for the cost of cutting
it down. Jim paused in his work, and, leaning on his spade, considered if
there was any one in the town, who, for the sake of the timber, would cut
the tree down and take it away for nothing. There ought to be some such
person in town; if it came to that, Mrs. Barfield ought to receive
something for the tree. Walnut was a valuable wood, was extensively used
by cabinetmakers, and so on, until Mrs. Barfield begged him to get on with
his digging.
At twelve o'clock Esther and Mrs. Barfield walked out on the lawn. A loud
wind came up from the sea, and it shook the evergreens as if it were angry
with them. A rook carried a stick to the tops of the tall trees, and the
women drew their cloaks about them. The train passed across the vista, and
the women wondered how long it would take Jack to walk from the station.
Then another rook stooped to the edge of the plantation, gathered a twig,
and carried it away. The wind was rough; it caught the evergreens
underneath and blew them out like umbrellas; the grass had not yet begun
to grow, and the grey sea harmonised with the grey-green land. The women
waited on the windy lawn, their skirts blown against their legs, keeping
their hats on with difficulty. It was too cold for standing still. They
turned and walked a few steps towards the house, and then looked round.
A tall soldier came through the gate. He wore a long red cloak, and a
small cap jauntily set on the side of his close-clipped head. Esther
uttered a little exclamation, and ran to meet him. He took his mother in
his arms, kissed her, and they walked towards Mrs. Barfield together. All
was forgotten in the happiness of the moment--the long fight for his life,
and the possibility that any moment might declare him to be mere food for
powder and shot. She was only conscious that she had accomplished her
woman's work--she had brought him up to man's estate; and that was her
sufficient reward. What a fine fellow he was! She did not know he was so
handsome, and blushing with pleasure and pride she glanced shyly at him
out of the corners of her eyes as she introduced him to her mistress.
"This is my son, ma'am."
Mrs. Barfield held out her hand to the young soldier.
"I have heard a great deal about you from your mother."
"And I of you, ma'am. You've been very kind to my mother. I don't know how
to thank you."
And in silence they walked towards the house.