THE PAST OF ADONIS GEARY.
No; Gerald has not kissed her. He wished to very badly, but something
in his heart--a strong sense of honor maybe--prevented his doing so
until he had made his position clear to her. She was so simple, so
innocent, so virginal that she knew nothing of passion, or of life, or
of that world wherein women marry and are given in marriage. With an
almost absurd particularity the young man desired that, before being
kissed, she should learn that he was her true lover, that he wished to
marry her, that he greatly desired to enter into a lifelong
companionship with her. To act otherwise was to bind her unknowingly
to him. When she understood what love meant, and was ready to accept
him as her husband, then could he seal this acceptance with a kiss.
For he knew full well that such a kiss would awaken the woman in her;
would reveal life to her soul. A caress meant so much, that it was
little wonder he restrained himself from following too hurriedly the
desire of his heart.
And perhaps it was that he found her innocence and friendly acceptance
of his presence too delightful to transmute with unconsidered haste
friendship into love. Why spoil this idyll of lilies by presenting her
with the red ripe roses of love? The romance was so charming, so
dreamlike, that the poetic instinct of the poet forbade him to rouse
her. Mavis was indeed the Sleeping Beauty, slumbering within her
enchanted palace, and he, the fated Prince--as it would seem he was
from his finding of the cylinder--would in time awaken her with a
kiss. But the hour had not yet struck. When it did, many things would
come to pass.
In the first place, Mavis would no longer be contented to live in the
Pixy's House, ignorant of life. She would wish to come out into the
world, even before the age of twenty-one, and would not wait longer
for her guardian's permission. Such a desire would mean a meeting and
an explanation with Rebb, and Gerald, as yet, did not see how to bring
this about. He guessed that when he spoke to the Major he would be
told of the homicidal mania with which Mavis was said to be tainted.
It would be vain for him to decline to believe in such a taint. If
Rebb insisted that it was so he could refuse to allow Haskins to marry
his ward, particularly as she was under age. Then again, if Rebb
guessed that the young man wished to marry the girl, he might very
easily remove her secretly to a new hiding-place, and Gerald would
lose her for ever. Hasty action was not to be thought of, and it would
be best to wait until he could learn why Rebb secluded the girl in
that ruinous house.
Haskins duly returned to the Devon Maid, and found Geary as cheerful
and obsequious as usual. But now that Gerald was enlightened as to the
connection of the negro with the Pixy's House he found it difficult to
tolerate these false smiles. Piercing the mask of Geary's good humor
he saw in him a dangerous man, gripping a yellow-handled knife which
he was ready to use, should it be necessary. Haskins no longer
wondered at the negro's presence amongst these lonely hills. He knew
that he had not drifted there, but had been made landlord of the inn
to act as a dragon. And a very dangerous dragon he might prove to be,
should he gain wind of Gerald's philanderings with Mavis.
Geary, however, showed no signs that he suspected anything, but
waited as usual on his guest. While at dinner Gerald seized the
opportunity to tell his landlord that he contemplated stopping at
Silbury on the ensuing night. "I have to run up to London on the day
after to-morrow," said Haskins, with feigned carelessness, "and if I
sleep at Silbury I can catch the eight-o'clock train."
"I could dribe you dere, sah, for dat train," said Geary, beaming, and
evidently pleased at Haskins' announcement.
"No, my good fellow, that would mean my getting up at five in the
morning. I prefer to sleep at Silbury--at the Prince's Head Hotel."
"Will you come back here, sah?"
"Oh yes, in two or three days, but only for a time, Geary. I have to
go on to St. Ives, you know."
"I shall be sorry to lose you, sah?"
"Thank you. I shall be sorry to go. This inn is comfortable, and the
country all around is picturesque. I have left my canoe down on the
river, and when I return I shall send it back to Exeter. I am tired of
exploring that river--it is so lonely."
"Berry lonely, sah," assented Geary promptly, and went towards the
door with the tray in his hands. There he stopped. "Will you want me
dis ebenin', sah. I go to see a frien' in de Lawd at Leegarth, who
wish to see me for de good ob his bressed soul."
"No, I won't want you," rejoined Haskins, secretly disgusted at the
fellow for using the cloak of religion to mask his Pixy's House visit.
"I shall go to bed early."
"T'ank you, sah," and Geary departed. Later, while Gerald at the
window sipped his coffee, he saw the big negro walking up the hill
which led on to the moors. For the moment it flashed across the young
man that Geary might go to Mother Carey's Peace Pool by taking the
down path, and there might discover the canoe. But on second thoughts
he dismissed his reflection. Geary, being quite ignorant of Haskins'
knowledge, had no reason to seek the pool, and so the canoe would be
left undisturbed in the undergrowth.
Haskins had really intended to retire early, but, unable to rest
quietly, he strolled out of the inn and on to the bridge. No one
lingered there now, as the early birds of Denleigh had gone to roost.
He had the Rialto of the village all to himself, as he thought, until
he became aware that Mrs. Geary, with a blue shawl over her head, was
leaning against the parapet. Wondering if he could learn anything
about Adonis from his usually silent wife, Gerald moved alongside.
"A penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Geary," he said cheerfully.
Mrs. Geary turned, and in the moonlight he saw that she was crying.
"My thoughts have to do with funerals, sir," she said, in a heavy
voice, but with a much less use of the Devonshire dialect than he
would have expected from a Barnstaple woman.
"With funerals?"
"I was thinking," said Mrs. Geary, looking at the water flowing under
the bridge, "if it wouldn't be best for me to throw myself into yon
stream."
"Why on earth should you do that?" asked Haskins blankly. And it was
then that he became conscious that she had been drinking, for she
swayed against the stonework. Perhaps it was the drink which made her
talk more than usual, added to the absence of her husband, but she
certainly spoke very freely, and told him much that he wished to know.
"Why should I wish to do that, sir?" she repeated scornfully--"because
I am the most miserable woman on God's green earth."
"Oh, surely not, Mrs. Geary. You have a good home, healthy children,
and a capital husband."
Again she laughed scornfully. "A capital husband, when it suits him.
Oh, you don't know what Geary is, Mr. Haskins. His soul is as black as
his face, and that is saying a lot."
"I wondered why you married a negro," commented Haskins, leaning over
the bridge, and leading her to confide in him.
"I married him because I was a greedy fool, sir. I was a housemaid, or
at least a general servant, under Bellaria at the Pixy's House."
Gerald caught his breath. "That is where the mad girl lives, according
to your husband."
"Mad? She's less mad than I am, sir. A poor, pretty, sweet young lady,
who is kept a fast prisoner by Major Rebb."
"Why is she kept prisoner?"
"I can't tell you that, sir. All I know is that, sixteen long years
ago, I was a servant there, and Miss Mavis liked me. I got on well
with Bellaria too, although she had her fits of terror at times--why I
can't say, but she often seemed to be scared by her very shadow. Major
Rebb was away then with his regiment in Jamaica."
"Oh! And Miss Mavis lived at the Pixy's House?"
"She was and is kept a prisoner there," said Mrs. Geary, whose tongue
seemed to be very loose with the drink, else she would scarcely have
talked so boldly. "Major Rebb came home with Geary, who had been his
servant in Jamaica. Geary stopped at the Pixy's House, while his
master went to London. He fell in love with me, and quarreled with
Bellaria. They were like cat and dog, so when Major Rebb came down he
said that if I would marry Geary he would keep my old mother out of
the poorhouse. I didn't dislike Geary then, and I wanted my mother to
be comfortable for the rest of her life. I agreed, and married Geary.
Major Rebb settled us in the Devon Maid fifteen years ago, and since
then my life has been a hell, with that villain. Geary will kill me
some day," added the woman in a matter-of-fact tone, "unless I kill
myself first."
"But a big woman like you can manage him."
"Not when he threatens with that yellow-handled knife he holds, sir. I
fear that knife. Geary says that it was used in some African sacrifice
in Jamaica, and the sight of it makes me sick. Because of Geary's
treatment I took to drink, and he's always threatening to kill me,
unless I leave it off. How can I," cried Mrs. Geary, throwing open her
arms, "when it is the only thing that makes me able to stand the
brute?"
"Does he strike you?"
"He beats me and kicks me, and threatens me with the knife. Don't tell
him that I said so, sir," cried Mrs. Geary, with sudden terror, for
the drink was dying out of her, "if you do he'll kill me. I am afraid
of death," she added, looking into the silver water, "if I were not I
would end everything in yonder stream."
"I won't say a word, Mrs. Geary," said Haskins soothingly, "your
husband will never hear anything from me. Why does he live here?"
"To watch the Pixy's House," said Mrs. Geary, "to see that Miss Mavis
don't get away. If she did, and learned what she should learn, the
Major wouldn't be able to dash about in motor cars."
"Is it money?" asked Gerald eagerly.
Mrs. Geary drew her shawl tightly round her massive form. "I don't
know rightly what it is," she said, in her heavy voice. "Geary says
very little, but what he does say shows that Major Rebb will never let
Miss Mavis leave that house. And she's not mad, poor lamb. She's a
poor innocent angel, the sport of villains. I'll go now, Mr. Haskins,
and mind, I have your word to say nothing."
"You have," said Gerald as she turned away, "but if you want to help
Miss Mavis----"
"Only one man can help her," interrupted the woman gruffly, "and he
must be her lover, who will stand against these devils on her behalf.
But she never sees a man, since Mr. Arnold went away, unless old
Matthew counts, so what chance has she! There," she ended abruptly, "I
have told you more than I ought to. The drink! the drink! Geary would
kill me if he knew. Curse Geary and curse the drink!" and she returned
slowly to the inn, striking her forehead and repeating: "the drink,
the drink, the drink!"
Haskins remained on the bridge for a few minutes and then retired to
bed, not to sleep but to think deeply. He had enough to occupy his
thoughts throughout that long summer night. Mrs. Geary, as the saying
goes, had given the show away. From the remark about the motor car
Gerald felt certain that Mrs. Geary had meant a loss of money.
Apparently, if Mavis escaped from the Pixy's House, Rebb would lose an
income, which rightfully belonged to the girl. But of this the young
man could not be sure, and until he had more information he could do
nothing. Still his suspicions had certainly proved to be correct. The
negro was Rebb's creature, and had been posted in Denleigh village to
guard the Pixy's House and its occupants. Haskins felt that he was on
the track of the mystery, but could not follow it up until he talked
it over with another person. Two heads were better than one, in this
instance, and Tod Macandrew was very shrewd. Therefore Haskins fell
asleep with a resolution to explain matters to the lawyer when he went
to London. Meanwhile he had to meet Mavis in the moonlight on the
ensuing night, and that thought alone was sufficient to fill his mind
to the exclusion of less romantic matters.
Next morning Geary was as suave and obedient as usual. Evidently he
had neither found, nor had he heard, anything to awaken his suspicion
while visiting the Pixy's House. Haskins watched him closely, and
weighed every look, every inflection of the voice; but in every case
he was satisfied that the negro had not the slightest idea that his
guest had stormed the Enchanted Castle. When the time came for Haskins
to drive to Silbury the negro himself appeared on the box of the trap.
"Hullo," said Gerald, climbing in, and seeing that his portmanteau was
all right, "this is an honor. Geary."
"Oh no, sah," said the negro, showing his splendid teeth, "you ver'
good pusson, sah, to hab at de Devon Maid. I wish you to come here
again an'--an' tell odder jemplem ob dis place."
"I'll tell everyone," said Gerald, when the trap started, "and I'll be
back soon."
"To stay wid me, sah?"
"For a few days. I must then get on to St. Ives, as a friend is
awaiting me there. What I miss about Denleigh, Geary," added the young
man, in a careless tone, "is, that there are no pretty girls."
"No, sah, no. You hab to see Jamaica for de pretty gals, sah."
"You come from Jamaica then?"
"Yes, sah. Me buckra nigger, sah, and servant to Major Rebb. Him was
in command ob a fine black rig'm't, sah."
Geary was communicative indeed, and simply told what Gerald had
gathered from the wife. However, to shield her, he expressed suitable
surprise. "I wonder you don't go back to Jamaica, Geary. After the
Tropics this place must be chilly, and extremely dull in winter."
"Yas, sah, it berry dull," replied the negro unsuspiciously, "but I
hab de inn and de wife and de family, so I getting on berry well. But
some day I go back to Port Royal to lib, wid money, and den I a grand
jemplem."
In this way Adonis chattered all the long way to Silbury, and told
Haskins quite a lot about his life with Major Rebb. The negro appeared
to be quite devoted to his old master, alleging that Rebb had saved
his life when it was in danger. "From what?" asked Gerald idly.
"Voodoo!" said Geary, scowling. "I lose one eye in Voodoo," and after
this remark he became silent.
Haskins had heard of Voodoo, of the terrible African witchcraft, and
having an initiate in his company would have liked, from literary
curiosity, to learn more. But by this time the trap was entering
Silbury and descending the steep High Street, so Geary refused to say
anything more. The loss of his eye was evidently a sore subject with
him, and small wonder that he loved Rebb if the sight of the other eye
had been saved by that military gentleman. When Geary drove away,
leaving Haskins at the Prince's Head, that individual thought deeply.