A STOLEN EXCURSION
Dusk had begum to fall, and Evelyn, returning from Netherdale village,
stopped at the garden gate. Dark came early, Mrs. Haigh was not at
home, and the evening would be long. In winter the evenings were
intolerably long, and Evelyn rather moodily looked about.
A half-moon rose behind the trees and the wind had dropped. The sheep
knew the night would be fine and went up the hill to pastures by the
limestone crags. On the long, dark slopes their faint bleating was
musical. Down the dale, where all was indistinct, a farm dog barked.
The silver-firs about the house were sharp, black spires, but the moon
touched their tops and the needles reflected the light. Evelyn smelt
resin, and thyme in a plot across the hedge. Sometimes, when Kit was
with her, she had sensed the beauty of the quiet dale, but Kit was
gone and all was flat.
Evelyn knew her beauty. She wanted excitement and admiration; in fact,
she wanted to try her power. Yet when she married Kit she must,
perhaps for long, be resigned to sober economy, and rather give than
get. Evelyn was not generous, and she vaguely knew she had not much to
give.
Mrs. Haigh was poor, and although at Netherdale she was important, she
owed much to Mrs. Carson’s friendship and, so to speak, shone in the
other’s reflected light. Mrs. Carson, however, forced one to pay for
her favors. Her rewards were not very liberal, but her punishments
were stern.
There was the puzzle, for although Mrs. Carson did not approve of Kit,
Mrs. Haigh had been his friend and sometimes his resolute defender.
Recently Evelyn had begun to remark a change. Mrs. Haigh did not talk
much about Kit, and when she did talk she was apologetic. Then it
looked as if she began to cultivate Harry Ledward; at all events, she
was willing for him to cultivate Evelyn.
On the whole, Evelyn liked Harry, and she was annoyed by Kit’s
carelessness. Jasper Carson was his uncle, and his duty was to push
his nephew ahead, but Kit had antagonized the old fellow. Then Kit had
given up a good post in Canada. His letter was vague, but Evelyn was
persuaded he had allowed a rash impulse to carry him away. All the
same, to brood about it would not help, and she opened the gate.
In the path she stopped. An engine throbbed, a bright beam sped along
the hedge, and a car rolled up to the gate. Ledward jumped down and
pulled off his thick gloves.
“My luck’s in! I did not know if you were at home.”
“Your doubting’s strange,” Evelyn rejoined. “Our rule is to be at
home, but to-night mother is not, and she will not be back for two or
three days.”
“Then I expect it’s dull for you,” said Ledward. “You don’t like to be
alone.”
Evelyn remarked his sympathy. Kit would not have thought about her
being lonely.
“Are you at Netherhall?” she inquired.
“I was at Sheffield and am going to meet my employer at Netherhall.
When he was called to a steelworks on the coast I took the road. Will
you come and look at my new car?”
Evelyn went. She was not at all a mechanic but she knew the small car
was expensive, and she was envious. It would be long before Kit could
buy her a toy like that. She pictured his playing the violin for the
cook, and by contrast with Ledward’s extravagance the picture jarred.
“From Sheffield is a long way,” she said in a careless voice. “I
suppose the car is fast?”
“Would you like to try? The evening’s fine and the wind is gone.”
“If you will come in, I can give you some tea, and I might afterwards
go to Netherhall.”
“I have another plan. Suppose we get tea at Hadriansford? I reckon we
could get there in forty minutes. The road’s pretty good.”
Evelyn hesitated. Hadriansford was twenty miles off, and Mrs. Haigh
was not at home. All the same, she wanted to go. To steal off to the
little town would banish her moodiness.
“If we could be back in two hours——”
“I’ll promise to do so,” Ledward replied, and Evelyn went for a thick
coat.
The car climbed a long hill, and at the top Evelyn looked about.
Although the moon was shining, the sunset was not gone, and far off
across the misty plain the sky was red. In front, the moor, broken by
dark gullies and dotted by sparkling pools, rolled back in the
moonlight, and the wet road was like a silver riband. A curfew called,
and the high, trembling note gave the wilds a touch of mystery.
Evelyn admitted that all was beautiful, and she pictured Kit’s
enthusiasm for the moors when they picnicked at the tarn. The open
spaces called Kit; he was romantic and followed his bent. He stood for
something fine and elusive, and she had tried to play up, but her
pluck was not like Kit’s. Where she hesitated he went joyously
forward.
Ledward was rather her sort; he stood for prudence, comfort and
conventional rules. Although he had tempted her to adventures, she
knew she risked nothing. Harry, so to speak, was safe and solid. Now
he wore his thick driving coat his figure was bulky, but its bulkiness
was somehow reassuring. He kept the crown of the road, and when they
plunged into a ghyll his foot was on the brake. Evelyn approved his
caution, but Kit would have let the car go.
“You are Jasper Carson’s secretary, are you not?” she said.
“I rather think I’m his _factotum,”_ Ledward replied with a laugh. “I
help where he reckons my help is useful, and undertake odd jobs.”
“Kit was really the man for Jasper.”
“That is so,” Ledward agreed. “Had Kit wanted the post, it was his,
but he did not. However, I think you admitted I did not push him out.
When Jasper engaged me Kit was gone.”
Evelyn acknowledged that she could not logically make Ledward
accountable. Kit ought to have stayed and claimed all that was his.
“Do you like Jasper?” she resumed.
“I don’t know,” said Ledward in a thoughtful voice. “The old fellow’s
just, and although I’m his servant he’s polite. All the same, he’s
baffling, and his humor’s grim. Sometimes I feel he’s cynically
amused, but I cannot see the joke.”
He stopped, and Evelyn thought he pondered. The moon got bright and
the pools in the road sparkled. The moor was gray and silver, and
melted into blue; on one side, faint black hills cut the sky. In the
distance were two or three dim lights. A covey of grouse flew noisily
across the headlamp’s beam. When they vanished all was quiet but for a
little beck in the heather. The tinkling splash got louder, and Evelyn
saw the road went down-hill.
“In the North evenings like this are not numerous,” Ledward remarked.
“When the moon’s on the heather and the sky is serene, the moor has
some charm.”
“When all you hear is the wind and the sheep, serenity gets
monotonous,” Evelyn rejoined. “In winter Netherdale’s deadly quiet,
and winter is not short. I like crowds and lights and noise, and
sometimes I feel the dale’s a prison. Perhaps it explains my agreeing
to our excursion.”
“Hadriansford is not remarkably noisy. Then you have some social
functions; perhaps festivities is not the word. For example, Mrs.
Holroyd gives a ball. I suppose you’re going?”
“Oh, yes,” said Evelyn. “A ball for us is an important event. We get
two a year, and as soon as the night is fixed one begins to calculate.
You see, to disguise a modern frock is hard, and to bring an old one
up-to-date is almost impossible. Well, one goes, and when one comes
back one feels like Cinderella; only the prince does not arrive.”
“The prince is occupied in Canada! Well, Kit is something of a prince.
Anyhow, we have some grounds to think him royally generous, and he’s
royally extravagant.”
“Is extravagance royal?” Evelyn inquired, and her voice was hard, for
she weighed Ledward’s remark.
“I admit I don’t know; but Kit’s royalty is not modern and
constitutional. He goes back to the old spacious days of the minstrels
and wandering knights. Perhaps Richard Lion-heart is his type. You can
picture Kit’s stealing across Austria; he’d think it a first-class
joke. Was he not something like a minstrel at the Canadian camp?
Richard, however, did not cheat his enemy, and to get him out of jail
cost his subjects much.”
Evelyn smiled, but she wondered whether Harry implied that others must
pay for Kit’s exploits. If it were so, he did not exaggerate, for she
had begun to meet the bill.
They crossed the edge of the tableland; the road went down steeply and
in the distance the reflections from a furnace glimmered in the sky.
Lights dotted the dale, and chimney-stacks and smoke marked a coalpit.
A shining train curved along the hillside and vanished. Then the road
went round a bend and Ledward slowed the engine.
“The moors and the moonlight are done with. We are going down to the
gas-lamps and ground we know; in fact, I think we are going where we
belong.”
“It looks as if you were happy to get back,” said Evelyn.
“Oh, well, when you’re not romantic the heights are bleak and cold. On
the whole I’m not romantic. My job’s where people make things and
dispute about the price.”
“You like a safe job?”
“Safety first is a useful rule,” Ledward agreed. “For all that, where
I thought a risk worth while I might risk something.”
The hill got steeper and he concentrated on his driving. Dry-stone
walls enclosed boggy fields, and one side a high bank bordered the
curving road. The splash of water indicated that a little beck flowed
through the gloom.
By and by the bank cut the view, and when the car went round the curve
Ledward’s foot jarred on the brake. A few yards off, a smoky light
melted in the headlamp’s beam, and Evelyn saw a cart across the road.
Nobody was by the horse, but boots rattled on the stones and a dark
figure jumped from a gate.
The cart carried a load of turnips and the horse’s head was down.
Where the rope-traces rubbed, the animal’s coat was white, and the
steam from its sweating body floated about. In the dazzling beam all
was distinct; cart and running driver leaped out of the dark like a
cinema picture.
Evelyn knew the man could not reach the horse in time to avoid a
collision. Ledward could not stop the car, and the horse was at the
side by which he ought to pass. He swerved, let the brake go, and
steered for the bank. The wheels went up, the car tilted, and Evelyn
was flung about. Ledward stuck to the wheel, the inclined seat got
level, and they were in the road.
“All’s right, I think,” Ledward gasped, but Evelyn knew him cool.
“There’s not much use in stopping; I don’t expect the fellow would
argue logically. Besides, he was forced to open the gate, and if the
horse had fronted up the hill it could not have held the load.”
“Don’t talk!” said Evelyn. “There’s another corner.”
“I don’t expect another cart,” Ledward rejoined, and steered round the
curve.
For a time Evelyn was quiet. Harry had not boasted; where a risk was
justified he did not hesitate. Had he tried to stop, they must have
struck the horse. She pictured the broken car, the plunging animal,
and herself, battered by its iron shoes. Well, Harry had saved her. He
was not at all athletic, but his nerve was good, and she mechanically
contrasted him and Kit. Kit was moved by impulse; Harry calculated and
went where he resolved to go. Evelyn thought he would go far.
The valley got wide and lights dotted the slope to a river. By and by
Evelyn saw noble trees and an abbey behind the branches; then they
rolled across a quiet market-place, by a dark tower, and up a broad
street. Ledward stopped in front of a white hotel, and they went to
the spacious old-fashioned dining-room. Ledward pulled out his watch.
“If we must be back when you stipulate, we ought to start in half an
hour.”
“My holidays are not numerous, and since I did steal off, I think I
might risk another hour,” said Evelyn with a smile.
Ledward summoned a waitress, and the food she brought was good. But
for two gentlemen at the other end, the big room was quiet, and Evelyn
began to talk carelessly.
“You are Mrs. Carson’s relation, and she was a Netherdale Loreburn,”
she said after a time. “The Carsons are another type. Do you know much
about them?”
“I know something about Jasper Carson. It looks as if he interested
you!”
“People do interest me, and Jasper’s a commanding figure,” Evelyn
agreed in a thoughtful voice. “Sometimes I imagine he rules us, but I
mustn’t be fanciful—Kit claimed his independence and defied his
uncle.”
“I wonder,” said Ledward. “Jasper likes control and people go where he
wants. However, all I really know about the Carsons is: Jasper’s
grandfather was a blacksmith; he started a little machine shop and
mended things for Lancashire cotton mills. He obviously got rich, for
his son, Thomas Carson, built a foundry, and afterwards a forge.
Canada was developing and for some time bought iron goods in England.
The Carsons cultivated the trade and Canadian manufacturers liked
their stuff. Since then they have speculated in Canadian industries.
The connection between some English families and the Dominions is
rather remarkable——”
“Mrs. Carson’s lot go to India,” said Evelyn. “But please don’t stop.”
“Thomas Carson had three sons. Jasper got the forge, which is now
famous; Alan, for a time, carried on the foundry; Kit’s father went to
a shipyard and married a concert singer. When he died he was poor. In
fact, only Jasper seems to have inherited the blacksmith’s talent.”
“Nothing indicates that Jasper’s ancestor was a blacksmith.”
“Oh, well,” said Ledward, “the old fellow’s cultivated and his friends
are famous steelmakers and engineers. All the same, sometimes one
senses the Lancashire workman’s vein. I think my aunt does so, and
Jasper knows. On the whole, I expect he’s amused, but his springing
from the old Lancashire radical may account for some antagonism.
Anyhow, I am cautious, although he’s a just, and rather kind,
employer. Well, I mustn’t bore you! The theatre is shut, but I see a
good picture advertised. Should we look in?”
“Let’s go,” said Evelyn. “Mother would not approve, but after
Netherdale the cinema’s exciting.”
They went to the picture house and stayed for a time. The film was not
remarkably exciting, but to sit in the dark by Ledward carried a
thrill of intrigue for Evelyn. When they were in the street Ledward
went towards the station.
“The hour you fixed is nearly up; but we might get some new magazines
at the railway bookstall.”
He bought Evelyn one or two women’s magazines, and then a train
arrived, and they waited to let the passengers go by. A big lamp was
overhead, and not far off a gate opened to the road. By and by Evelyn
turned rather quickly and Ledward looked round. Jasper Carson came
along the platform.
Ledward calculated. The gate was six or seven yards off, but since the
people steered for the main door, he and Evelyn, standing by the
bookstall, were rather conspicuous. He gave Evelyn a careless glance
and thought her disturbed, but she obviously waited for him. Ledward
would sooner Carson had not got off the train.
“We’ll meet him; I don’t suppose he’ll keep us long,” he said, and
they crossed the platform.
Jasper stopped and gave Evelyn a smile, and Ledward a nod.
“I thought you started soon after breakfast, Harry. Did the car bother
you?”
“The car went very well, sir, and I got to Netherdale some time since.
The evening was fine, you have kept me pretty busy, and I thought I’d
like a run across the moors. Miss Haigh was willing to spend an hour
at Hadriansford. We got tea and went to the pictures.”
“Exactly!” said Jasper. “Your explanation’s rather long. Were I young,
I would feel Miss Haigh’s willingness was all I need state. But my
train goes in a few minutes and I must telegraph Alan to send the car.
I suppose he does not expect me until the morning?”
“I was not at Netherhall. You see, I stopped at Mrs. Haigh’s——”
“Then, since your aunt does not know you were in the neighborhood, she
will not wonder why you do not arrive,” Jasper remarked. “If you drive
fast you may get back for dinner. Well, my porter waits. Good-night,
Miss Haigh!”
He crossed the platform and the others went to the hotel. Ledward
talked carelessly, but he was annoyed, and Evelyn was thoughtful.
Jasper had indicated that he sympathized and would not enlighten his
hosts about their excursion. The trouble was, his doing so implied
that he knew the excursion was stolen. Moreover, he knew Evelyn was,
conditionally, engaged to marry Kit.
Jasper sent his telegram, and when the train started smiled, a cynical
smile that nevertheless carried a hint of satisfaction.