An emissary from Tottenham Court Road sped down to Polterham, surveyed
the vacant house, returned with professional computations. Quarrier and
Lilian abode at the old home until everything should be ready for them,
and Mrs. Liversedge represented her brother on the spot--solving the
doubts of workmen, hiring servants, making minor purchases. She invited
Denzil to bring his wife, and dwell for the present under the
Liversedge roof, but her brother preferred to wait. "I don't like
makeshifts; we must go straight into our own house; the dignity of the
Radical candidate requires it." So the work glowed, and as little time
as possible was spent over its completion.
It was midway in January when the day and hour of arrival were at last
appointed. No one was to be in the house but the servants. At four in
the afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Quarrier would receive Mr. and Mrs.
Liversedge, and thus make formal declaration of their readiness to
welcome friends. Since her return to England, Lilian had seen no one.
She begged Denzil not to invite Glazzard to Clapham.
They reached Polterham at one o'clock, in the tumult of a snowstorm;
ten minutes more, and the whitened cab deposited them at their doorway.
Quarrier knew, of course, what the general appearance of the interior
would be, and he was well satisfied with the way in which his
directions had been carried out. His companion was at first overawed
rather than pleased. He led her from room to room, saying frequently,
"Do you like it? Will it do?"
"It frightens me!" murmured Lilian, at length. "How shall I manage such
a house?"
She was pale, and inclined to tearfulness, for the situation tired her
fortitude in a degree Denzil could not estimate. Fears which were all
but terrors, self-reproach which had the poignancy of remorse,
tormented her gentle, timid nature. For a week and more she had not
known unbroken sleep; dreams of fantastic misery awakened her to worse
distress in the calculating of her perils and conflict with insidious
doubts. At the dead hour before dawn, faiths of childhood revived
before her conscience, upbraiding, menacing. The common rules of
every-day honour spoke to her with stern reproval. Denzil's arguments,
when she tried to muster them in her defence, answered with hollow,
meaningless sound. Love alone would stead her; she could but shut her
eyes, and breathe, as if in prayer, the declaration that her love was a
sacred thing, cancelling verbal untruth.
She changed her dress, and went down to luncheon. The large dining-room
seemed to oppress her insignificance; to eat was impossible, and with
difficulty she conversed before the servants. Fortunately, Denzil was
in his best spirits; he enjoyed the wintery atmosphere, talked of
skating on the ice which had known him as a boy, laughed over an old
story about a snowball with a stone in it which had stunned him in one
of the fights between town and Grammar School.
"Pity the election can't come on just now!--we should have lively
times. A snowball is preferable to an addled egg any day. The Poltram
folks"--this was the common pronunciation of the town's name--"have a
liking for missiles at seasons of excitement."
From table, they went to the library--as yet unfurnished with
volumes--and made themselves comfortable by the fireside. Through the
windows nothing could be seen but a tempestuous whirl of flakes.
Lilian's cat, which had accompanied her in a basket, could not as yet
make itself at home on the hearthrug, and was glad of a welcome to its
mistress's lap. Denzil lit a pipe and studied the political news of the
day.
At four o'clock he waited impatiently the call of his relatives.
Lilian, unable to command her agitation, had gone into another room,
and was there counting the minutes as if each cost her a drop of
heart's blood. If this first meeting were but over! All else seemed
easy, could she but face Denzil's sister without betrayal of her shame
and dread. At length she heard wheels roll up to the door; there were
voices in the hall; Denzil came forth with loud and joyous greeting; he
led his visitors into the library. Five minutes more of anguish, and
the voices were again audible, approaching, at the door.
"Well, Lily, here is my sister and Mr. Liversedge," said Denzil. "No
very formidable persons, either of them," he added merrily, as the best
way of making apology for Lilian's too obvious tremor.
But she conquered her weakness. The man was of no account to her; upon
the woman only her eyes were fixed, for _there_ was the piercing
scrutiny, the quick divination, the merciless censure--there, if
anywhere, in one of her own sex. From men she might expect tolerance,
justice; from women only a swift choice between the bowl and the
dagger. Pride prompted her to hardihood, and when she had well looked
upon Mrs. Liversedge's face a soothing confidence came to the support
of desperation. She saw the frank fairness of Denzil's lineaments
softened with the kindest of female smiles; a gaze keen indeed, but
ingenuous as that of a child; an expression impossible to be
interpreted save as that of heartfelt welcome, absolutely unsuspecting,
touched even with admiring homage.
They kissed each other, and Lilian's face glowed. After that, she could
turn almost joyously for Mr. Liversedge's hearty hand-shake.
"You have come like a sort of snow-queen," said Tobias, with unusual
imaginativeness, pointing to the windows. "It must have begun just as
you got here."
Perhaps the chill of her fingers prompted him to this poetical flight.
His wife, who had noticed the same thing, added, with practical fervour:
"I only hope the house is thoroughly dry. We have had great fires
everywhere for more than a fortnight. As for the snow and frost, you
are pretty well used to that, no doubt."
Painfully on the alert, Lilian of course understood this allusion to
the Northern land she was supposed to have quitted recently.
"Even at Stockholm," she replied, with a smile, "there is summer, you
know."
"And in Russia, too, I have heard," laughed Mr. Liversedge. "But one
doesn't put much faith in such reports. Denzil tries to persuade us now
and then that the North Cape has quite a balmy atmosphere, especially
from December to March. He is quite safe. We sha'n't go to test his
statements."
Instead of a time of misery, this first half-hour proved so pleasant
that Lilian all but forgot the shadow standing behind her. When tea was
brought in, she felt none of the nervousness which had seemed to her
inevitable amid such luxurious appliances. These relatives of Denzil's,
henceforth her own, were people such as she had not dared to picture
them--so unaffected, genial, easy to talk with; nor did she suffer from
a necessity of uttering direct falsehoods; conversation dealt with the
present and the future--partly, no doubt, owing to Quarrier's
initiative. Mr. Liversedge made a report of local affairs as they
concerned the political outlook; he saw every reason for hope.
"Welwyn-Baker," he said, "is quite set up again, and I am told he has
no inclination to retire in favour of his son, or any one else. An
obstinate old fellow--and may his obstinacy increase! The Tories are
beginning to see that they ought to set up a new man; they are
quarrelling among themselves. That bazaar at the opening of the new
Society's rooms--the Constitutional Literary, you know--seems to have
been a failure. No one was satisfied. The _Mercury_ printed savage
letters from a lot of people--blaming this, that, and the other person
in authority. The _Examiner_, chuckled, and hasn't done referring to
the matter yet."
Apart with Lilian, Mrs. Liversedge had begun to talk of the society of
Polterham. She did not try to be witty at the expense of her
neighbours, but confessed with a sly smile that literature and the arts
were not quite so well appreciated as might be wished.
"You are a serious student, I know--very learned in languages. I wish I
had had more time for reading, and a better head. But seven children,
you know--oh dear! Even my little bit of French has got so ragged that
I am really ashamed of it. But there _is_ one woman who studies. Has
Denzil spoken to you of Mrs. Wade?"
"I don't remember."
"She is no great favourite of his, I believe. You will soon hear of
her, and no doubt see her. Denzil admits that she is very clever--even
a Greek scholar!"
"Really! And what fault does he find with her?"
"She is a great supporter of woman's rights, and occasionally makes
speeches. It's only of late that I have seen much of her; for some
reason she seems to have taken a liking to me, and I feel rather
honoured. I'm sure her intentions are very good indeed, and it must be
trying to live among people who have no sympathy with you. They make
sad fun of her, and altogether misunderstand her--at least I think so."
The snowstorm still raged. To spare their own horses, the Liversedges
had come in a cab, and at half-past five the same vehicle returned to
take them home. Lilian was sorry to see them go.
"Where are all your apprehensions now?" cried Denzil, coming back to
her from the hall. "It's over, you see. Not another minute's uneasiness
need you have!"
"They were kindness itself. I like them very much."
"As I knew and said you would. Now, no more chalky faces and frightened
looks! Be jolly, and forget everything. Let us try your piano."
"Your sister was telling me about Mrs. Wade. Is she one of the people
you would like me to be friends with?"
"Oh yes!" he answered, laughing, "Mrs. Wade will interest you, no
doubt. Make a friend of her by all means. Did Mary whisper mysterious
warnings?"
"Anything but that; she spoke very favourably."
"Indeed!
"And she said Mrs. Wade seemed to have taken a liking to her lately."
"Oh! How's that, I wonder? She goes about seeking whom she may secure
for the women's-vote movement; I suppose it's Molly's turn to be
attacked. Oh, we shall have many a lively half-hour when Mrs. Wade
calls!"
"What is her husband?"
"Husband! She's a widow. I never thought of such a person as Mr. Wade,
to this moment. To be sure, he must have existed. Perhaps she will
confide in you, and then----By-the-bye, is it right for women to tell
their husbands what they learn from female friends?"
He asked it jokingly, but Lilian seemed to reflect in earnest.
"I'm not sure"----
"Oh, you lily of the valley!" he cried, interrupting her. "Do cultivate
a sense of humour. Don't take things with such desperate seriousness!
Come and try your instrument. It ought to be a good one, if price-lists
mean anything."
The next morning was clear and cold. Assuredly there would be good
skating, and the prospect of this enjoyment seemed to engross Denzil's
thoughts. After breakfast he barely glanced at the newspapers, then
leaving Lilian to enter upon her domestic rule, set forth for an
examination of the localities which offered scope to Polterham skaters.
Such youthful zeal proved his thorough harmony with the English spirit;
it promised far more for his success as a politician than if he had
spent the morning over blue-books and statistical treatises.
If only the snow were cleared away, the best skating near at hand was
on a piece of water near the road to Rickstead. The origin of this pond
or lakelet had caused discussion among local antiquaries; for tradition
said that it occupied the site of a meadow which many years ago
mysteriously sank, owing perhaps to the unsuspected existence of an
ancient mine. It connected with a little tributary of the River Bale,
and was believed to be very deep, especially at one point, where the
tree-shadowed bank overhung the water at a height of some ten feet. The
way thither was by a field-path, starting from the high road within
sight of Pear-tree Cottage. At a rapid walk Quarrier soon reached his
goal, and saw with satisfaction that men and boys were sweeping the
snowy surface, whilst a few people had already begun to disport
themselves where the black ice came to view. In the afternoon he would
come with Lilian; for the present, a second purpose occupied his
thoughts. Standing on the bank of Bale Water (thus was it named), he
could see the topmost branches of that pear-tree which grew in the
garden behind Mrs. Wade's cottage; two meadows lay between--a stretch
of about a quarter of a mile. It was scarcely the hour for calling upon
ladies, but he knew that Mrs. Wade sat among her books through the
morning, and he wished especially to see her as soon as possible.
Polterham clocks were counting eleven as he presented himself at the
door of the cottage. Once already he had paid a call here, not many
days after his meeting with the widow in Mr. Hornibrook's library; he
came at three in the afternoon, and sat talking till nearly six. Not a
few Polterham matrons would have considered that proceeding highly
improper, but such a thought never occurred to Denzil; and Mrs. Wade
would have spoken her mind very distinctly to any one who wished to
circumscribe female freedom in such respects. They had conversed on a
great variety of subjects with unflagging animation. Since then he had
not seen his acquaintance.
A young girl opened to him, and left him standing in the porch for a
minute or two. She returned, and asked him to walk into the
sitting-room, where Mrs. Wade was studying with her feet on the fender.
"Do I come unseasonably?" he asked, offering his hand.
"Not if you have anything interesting to say," was the curious reply.
The widow was not accoutred for reception of visitors. She wore an old
though quite presentable dress, with a light shawl about her shoulders,
and had evidently postponed the arrangement of her hair until the time
of going abroad. Yet her appearance could hardly be called
disconcerting, for it had nothing of slovenliness. She looked a
student, that was all. For some reason, however, she gave Quarrier a
less cordial welcome than he had anticipated. Her eyes avoided his, she
shook hands in a perfunctory way.
"It depends what you call interesting," was his rejoinder to the
unconventional reply. "I got here yesterday, and brought a wife with
me--there, at all events, is a statement of fact."
"You have done me the honour to hasten here with the announcement?"
"I came out to see if Bale Water was skateable, and I thought I might
venture to make a friendly call whilst I was so near. But I'm afraid I
disturb you?"
"Not a bit. Pray sit down and talk. Of course I have heard of your
marriage. Why didn't you let me know it was impending?"
"Because I told nobody. I chose to get married in my own way. You, Mrs.
Wade, are not likely to find fault with me for that."
"Oh dear no!" she answered, with friendly indifference.
"I am told you see a good deal of the Liversedges?"
She nodded.
"Does my sister give any promise of reaching higher levels? Or is she a
hopeless groveller?"
"Mrs. Liversedge is the kind of woman I can respect, independently of
her views."
"I like to hear you say that, because I know you don't deal in
complimentary phrases. The respect, I am sure, is reciprocated."
Mrs. Wade seemed to give slight attention; she was looking at a picture
above the fireplace.
"You will count my wife among your friends, I hope?" he continued.
"I hope so. Do you think we shall understand each other?"
"If not, it won't be for lack of good will on her side. I mustn't begin
to praise her, but I think you will find she has a very fair portion of
brains."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"Do you imply that you had fears?"
"Men are occasionally odd in their choice of wives."
"Yes," Denzil replied, with a laugh; "I have seen remarkable
illustrations of it."
"I didn't feel sure that you regarded brains as an essential."
"Indeed! Then you were a long way from understanding me. How can you
say that, after my lecture, and our talks?"
"Oh, theory doesn't go for much. May I call shortly?"
"If you will be so good."
"She's very young, I think?"
"Not much more than one-and-twenty. I have known her for about three
years."
There was a short silence, then Mrs. Wade said with some abruptness:
"I think of leaving Polterham before long. It was Mr. and Mrs.
Hornibrook who decided me to come here, and now that they are gone I
feel as if I too had better stir. I want books that are out of my
reach."
"That will be a loss to us, Mrs. Wade. Society in Polterham has its
limitations"----
"I'm aware of it. But you, of course, will have a home in London as
well?"
"Well, yes--if I get sent to Parliament."
"I suppose we shall meet there some day."
Her voice grew careless and dreamy. She folded her hands upon her lap,
and assumed a look which seemed to Denzil a hint that he might now
depart. He stood up.
"So you are going to skate?" murmured Mrs. Wade. "I won't keep you.
Thank you very much for looking in."
Denzil tried once more to read her countenance, and went away with a
puzzled feeling. He could not conjecture the meaning of her changed
tone.