It being only midday, Richard directed his steps at once to the
Vicarage, and had the good fortune to find Mr. Wyvern within.
‘Be seated, Mr. Mutimer; I’m glad to see you,’ was the vicar’s
greeting.
Their mutual intercourse had as yet been limited to an exchange of
courtesies in public, and one or two casual meetings at the Walthams’
house. Richard had felt shy of the vicar, whom he perceived to be a
clergyman of other than the weak-brained type, and the circumstances
of the case would not allow Mr. Wyvern to make advances. The latter
proceeded with friendliness of tone, speaking of the progress of New
Wanley.
‘That’s what I’ve come to see you about,’ said Richard, trying to put
himself at ease by mentally comparing his own worldly estate with that
of his interlocutor, yet failing as often as he felt the scrutiny of
the vicar’s dark-gleaming eye. ‘We are going to open the Hall.’ He added
details. ‘I shall have a number of friends who are interested in our
undertaking to lunch with me on that day. I wish to ask if you will give
us the pleasure of your company.’
Mr. Wyvern reflected for a moment.
‘Why, no, sir,’ he replied at length, using the Johnsonian phrase with
grave courtesy. ‘I’m afraid I cannot acknowledge your kindness as
I should wish to. Personally, I would accept your hospitality with
pleasure, but my position here, as I understand it, forbids me to join
you on that particular occasion.’
‘Then personally you are not hostile to me, Mr. Wyvern?’
‘To you personally, by no means.’
‘But you don’t like the movement?’
‘In so far as it has the good of men in view it interests me, and I
respect its supporters.’
‘But you think we go the wrong way to work?’
‘That is my opinion, Mr. Mutimer.’
‘What would you have us do?’
‘To see faults is a much easier thing than to originate a sound scheme.
I am far from prepared with any plan of social reconstruction.’
Nor could Mr. Wyvern be moved from the negative attitude, though Mutimer
pressed him.
‘Well, I’m sorry you won’t come,’ Richard said as he rose to take his
leave. ‘It didn’t strike me that you would feel out of place.’
‘Nor should I. But you will understand that my opportunities of being
useful in the village depend on the existence of sympathetic feeling
in my parishioners. It is my duty to avoid any behaviour which could be
misinterpreted.’
‘Then you deliberately adapt yourself to the prejudices of unintelligent
people?’
‘I do so, deliberately,’ assented the vicar, with one of his fleeting
smiles.
Richard went away feeling sorry that he had courted this rejection. He
would never have thought of inviting a ‘parson’ but for Mrs. Waltham’s
suggestion. After all, it it mattered little whether Adela came to the
luncheon or not. He had desired her presence because he wished her to
see him as an entertainer of guests such as the Westlakes, whom she
would perceive to be people of refinement; it occurred to him, too, that
such an occasion might aid his snit by exciting her ambition; for he was
anything but confident of immediate success with Adela, especially since
recent conversations with Mrs. Waltham. But in any case she would attend
the afternoon ceremony, when his glory would be proclaimed.
Mrs. Waltham was anxiously meditative of plans for bringing Adela to
regard her Socialist wooer with more favourable eyes. She, too,
had hopes that Mutimer’s fame in the mouths of men might prove an
attraction, yet she suspected a strength of principle in Adela which
might well render all such hopes vain. And she thought it only too
likely, though observation gave her no actual assurance of this, that
the girl still thought of Hubert Eldon in a way to render it doubly hard
for any other man to make an impression upon her. It was dangerous, she
knew, to express her abhorrence of Hubert too persistently; yet, on the
other hand, she was convinced that Adela had been so deeply shocked by
the revelations of Hubert’s wickedness that her moral nature would be in
arms against her lingering inclination. After much mental wear and tear,
she decided to adopt the strong course of asking Alfred’s assistance.
Alfred was sure to view the proposed match with hearty approval, and,
though he might not have much influence directly, he could in all
probability secure a potent ally in the person of Letty Tew. This was
rather a brilliant idea; Mrs. Waltham waited impatiently for her son’s
return from Belwick on Saturday.
She broached the subject to him with much delicacy.
‘I am so convinced, Alfred, that it would be for your sister’s
happiness. There really is no harm whatever in aiding her inexperience;
that is all that I wish to do. I’m sure you understand me?’
‘I understand well enough,’ returned the young man; ‘but if you
convince Adela against her will you’ll do a clever thing. You’ve been
so remarkably successful in closing her mind against all arguments of
reason--’
‘Now, Alfred, do not begin and talk in that way! It has nothing whatever
to do with the matter. This is entirely a personal question.’
‘Nothing of the kind. It’s a question of religious prejudice. She hates
Mutimer because he doesn’t go to church, there’s the long and short of
it.’
‘Adela very properly condemns his views, but that’s quite a different
thing from hating him.’
‘Oh dear, no; they’re one and the same thing. Look at the history of
persecution. She would like to see him--and me too, I dare say--brought
to the stake.’
‘Well, well, of course if you won’t talk sensibly I had something to
propose.’
‘Let me hear it, then.’
‘You yourself agree with me that there would be nothing to repent in
urging her.’
‘On the contrary, I think she might consider herself precious lucky.
It’s only that’--he looked dubious for a moment--‘I’m not quite sure
whether she’s the kind of girl to be content with a husband she found
she couldn’t convert. I can imagine her marrying a rake on the hope of
bringing him to regular churchgoing, but then Mutimer doesn’t happen to
be a blackguard, so he isn’t very interesting to her.’
‘I know what you’re thinking of, but I don’t think we need take that
into account. And, indeed, we can’t afford to take anything into account
but her establishment in a respectable and happy home. Our choice, as
you are aware, is not a wide one. I am often deeply anxious about the
poor girl.’
‘I dare say. Well, what was your proposal?’
‘Do you think Letty could help us?’
‘H’m, can’t say. Might or might not. She’s as bad as Adela. Ten to one
it’ll be a point of conscience with her to fight the project tooth and
nail.’
‘I don’t think so. She has accepted you.’
‘So she has, to my amazement. Women are monstrously illogical. She must
think of my latter end with mixed feelings.’
‘I do wish you were less flippant in dealing with grave subjects,
Alfred. I assure you I am very much troubled. I feel that so much is at
stake, and yet the responsibility of doing anything is so very great.’
‘Shall I talk it over with Letty?’
‘If you feel able to. But Adela would be very seriously offended if she
guessed that you had done so.’
‘Then she mustn’t guess, that’s all. I’ll see what I can do to-night.’
In the home of the Tews there was some difficulty in securing privacy.
The house was a small one, and the sacrifice of general convenience
when Letty wanted a whole room for herself and Alfred was considerable.
To-night it was managed, however; the front parlour was granted to the
pair for one hour.
It could not be said that there was much delicacy in Alfred’s way of
approaching the subject he wished to speak of. This young man had a
scorn of periphrases. If a topic had to be handled, why not be succinct
in the handling? Alfred was of opinion that much time was lost by
mortals in windy talk.
‘Look here, Letty; what’s your idea about Adela marrying Mutimer?’
The girl looked startled.
‘She has not accepted him?’
‘Not yet. Don’t you think it would be a good thing if she did?’
‘I really can’t say,’ Letty replied very gravely, her head aside. ‘I
don’t think any one can judge but Adela herself. Really, Alfred, I don’t
think we ought to interfere.’
‘But suppose I ask you to try and get her to see the affair sensibly?’
‘Sensibly? What a word to use!’
‘The right word, I think.’
‘What a vexatious boy you are! You don’t really think so at all. You
only speak so because you like to tease me.’
‘Well, you certainly do look pretty when you’re defending the castles in
the air. Give me a kiss.’
‘Indeed, I shall not. Tell me seriously what you mean. What does Mrs.
Waltham think about it?’
‘Give me a kiss, and I’ll tell you. If not, I’ll go away and leave you
to find out everything as best you can.’
‘Oh, Alfred, you’re a sad tyrant!’
‘Of course I am. But it’s a benevolent despotism. Well, mother wants
Adela to accept him. In fact, she asked me if I didn’t think you’d help
us. Of course I said you would.’
‘Then you were very hasty. I’m not joking now, Alfred. I think of Adela
in a way you very likely can’t understand. It would be shocking, oh!
shocking, to try and make her marry him if she doesn’t really wish to.’
‘No fear! We shan’t manage that.’
‘And surely wouldn’t wish to?’
‘I don’t know. Girls often can’t see what’s best for them. I say, you
understand that all this is in confidence?’
‘Of course I do. But it’s a confidence I had rather not have received. I
shall be miserable, I know that.’
‘Then you’re a little--goose.’
‘You were going to call me something far worse.’
‘Give me credit, then, for correcting myself. You’ll have to help us,
Lettycoco.’
The girl kept silence. Then for a time the conversation became graver.
It was interrupted precisely at the end of the granted hour.
Letty went to see her friend on Sunday afternoon, and the two shut
themselves up in the dainty little chamber. Adela was in low spirits;
with her a most unusual state. She sat with her hands crossed on her
lap, and the sunny light of her eyes was dimmed. When she had tried for
a while to talk of ordinary things, Letty saw a tear glisten upon her
cheek.
‘What is the matter, love?’
Adela was in sore need of telling her troubles, and Letty was the
only one to whom she could do so. In such spirit-gentle words as could
express the perplexities of her mind she told what a source of pain her
mother’s conversation had been to her of late, and how she dreaded what
might still be to come.
‘It is so dreadful to think, Letty, that mother is encouraging him. She
thinks it is for my happiness; she is offended if I try to say what I
suffer. Oh, I couldn’t! I couldn’t!’
She put her palms before her face; her maidenhood shamed to speak of
these things even to her bosom friend.
‘Can’t you show him, darling, that--that he mustn’t hope anything?’
‘How can I do so? It is impossible to be rude, and everything else it is
so easy to misunderstand.’
‘But when he really speaks, then it will come to an end.’
‘I shall grieve mother so, Letty. I feel as if the best of my life had
gone by. Everything seemed so smooth. Oh, why did he fall so, Letty? and
I thought he cared for me, dear.’
She whispered it, her face on her friend’s shoulder.
‘Try to forget, darling; try!’
‘Oh, as if I didn’t try night and day! I know it is so wrong to give a
thought. How could he speak to me as he did that day when I met him on
the hill, and again when I went just to save him an annoyance? He was
almost the same as before, only I thought him a little sad from his
illness. He had no right to talk to me in that way! Oh, I feel wicked,
that I can’t forget; I hate myself for still--for still--’
There was a word Letty could not hear, only her listening heart divined
it.
‘Dear Adela! pray for strength, and it will be sure to come to you. How
hard it is to know myself so happy when you have so much trouble!’
‘I could have borne it better but for this new pain. I don’t think I
should ever have shown it; even you wouldn’t have known all I felt,
Letty. I should have hoped for him--I don’t mean hoped on my own
account, but that he might know how wicked he had been. How--how can a
man do things so unworthy of himself, when it’s so beautiful to be good
and faithful? I think he did care a little for me once, Letty.’
‘Don’t let us talk of him, pet.’
‘You are right; we mustn’t. His name ought never to pass my lips, only
in my prayers.’
She grew calmer, and they sat hand in hand.
‘Try to make your mother understand,’ advised Letty. ‘Say that it is
impossible you should ever accept him.’
‘She won’t believe that, I’m sure she won’t. And to think that, even
if I did it only to please her, people would believe I had married him
because he is rich!’
Letty spoke with more emphasis than hitherto.
‘But you cannot and must not do such a thing to please any one, Adela!
It is wrong even to think of it. Nothing, nothing can justify that.’
How strong she was in the purity of her own love, good little Letty! So
they talked together, and mingled their tears, and the room was made a
sacred place as by the presence of sorrowing angels.