On the following Sunday fortnight, Mavis left the train at Dippenham
quite late in the evening. She purposed driving with her baby and Jill
in a fly the seven miles necessary to take her to Melkbridge. She
choose this means of locomotion in order to secure the privacy which
might not be hers if she took the train to her destination.
During the last few days, her boy had not enjoyed his usual health; he
had lost appetite and could not sleep for any length of time. Mavis
believed the stuffy atmosphere of Pimlico to be responsible for her
baby's ailing; she had great hopes of the Melkbridge air effecting an
improvement in his health.
She had travelled down in a reserved first-class compartment, which
Windebank, who had seen her off at Paddington, had secured. He had only
been a few minutes on the platform, as he had to catch the boat train
at Charing Cross, he being due at Breslau the following day, to witness
the German army manoeuvres on a special commission from the War Office.
Mavis had seen much of him during her stay at Mrs Taylor's. At all
times, he had urged upon Mavis the inadvisability of going to
Melkbridge. He was so against this contemplated proceeding that he had
vainly offered to settle money on her if only it would induce her to
forego her intention. Miss Toombs had by letter joined her entreaties
to Windebank's. She pointed out that if Mavis brought her child to
Melkbridge, as she purposed doing, it was pretty certain that its
identity would be discovered. But Windebank pleaded and Miss Toombs
wrote to no purpose. Before Windebank had said good-bye at Paddington,
he again made Mavis promise that she would not hesitate to communicate
at once with him should she meet with further trouble.
The gravity with which he made this request awakened disquiet in her
mind, which diminished as her proximity to Melkbridge increased.
Impatient to lessen the distance that separated her from her
destination, she quickly selected a fly. A porter helped the driver
with her luggage; she settled herself with her baby and Jill, and very
soon they were lumbering down the ill-paved street. Her mind was so
intent on the fact of her increasing nearness to the loved one, that
she gave but a passing remembrance to the occasion of her last visit to
Dippenham, when she had met Perigal after letting him know that she was
about to become a mother. Her eyes strained eagerly from the window of
the fly in the direction of Melkbridge. She was blind, deaf,
indifferent to anything, other than her approaching meeting with her
lover, which she was sure could not long be delayed now she had come to
live so near his home. She was to lodge with her old friend Mrs
Trivett, who had moved into a cottage on the Broughton Road.
Mavis had written to tell Mrs Trivett the old story of her fictitious
marriage; she had, also, stated that for the present she wished this
fact, together with the parentage of her child, to be kept a strict
secret. Mavis little recked the risk she ran of discovery. She was
obsessed by the desire to breathe the Melkbridge air. She believed that
her presence there would in some way or other make straight the tangle
into which she had got her life. The fly had left Dippenham well
behind, and was ambling up and down the inclines of the road. Mavis
looked out at the stone walls which, in these parts, take the place of
hedgerows: she recognised with delight this reminder that she was again
in Wiltshire. Four miles further, she would pass a lodge gate and the
grounds of Major Perigal's place. She might even catch a glimpse of the
house amongst the trees as she passed. As the miles were wearily
surmounted and the dwelling of the loved one came ever nearer, Mavis's
heart beat fast with excitement. She continually craned her neck from
the window to see if the spot she longed to feast her eyes upon were in
sight. When it ultimately crept into view, she could scarcely contain
herself for joy. She caught up her baby from the seat to hold him as
high as it was possible in order that he might catch a glimpse of his
darling daddy's home.
The baby arms were hot and dry to the touch, but Mavis was too intent
on looking eagerly across the expanse of park to notice this just now.
Many lights flashed in her eyes, to be hidden immediately behind trees.
Her lover's home was unusually illuminated to-night--unusually,
because, at other times, when she had passed it, only one or two lights
had been visible, Major Perigal living the life of a recluse who
disliked intercourse with his species. Half an hour later, Mavis was
putting her baby to bed at Mrs Trivett's. His face was flushed, his
eyes staring and wide awake; but Mavis put down these manifestations to
the trying journey from town. She went downstairs to eat a few
mouthfuls with Mr and Mrs Trivett before returning to his side. She
found them much altered; they had aged considerably and were weighted
with care. Music teaching in Melkbridge was a sorry crutch on which to
lean for support. During the short meal, neither husband nor wife said
much. Mavis wondered if this taciturnity were due to any suspicions
they might entertain of Mavis's unwedded state. But when Mrs Trivett
came upstairs with her, she sat on the bed and burst into tears.
Upon Mavis asking what was amiss, Mrs Trivett told her that they were
overwhelmed with debt and consequent difficulties to such an extent,
that they did not know from one day to another if they would continue
to have a roof over their heads. She also told Mavis that her coming as
a lodger had been in the nature of a godsend, and that she had returned
to Melkbridge upon the anniversary of the day on which her husband had
commenced his disastrous tenancy of Pennington Farm.
Mavis slept little that night. Her baby was restless and wailed
fitfully throughout the long hours, during which the anxious mother did
her best to comfort him. Mavis made up her mind to call in a doctor if
he were not better in the morning. When she was dressing, the baby
seemed calmer and more inclined to sleep, therefore she had small
compunction in leaving him in Mrs Trivett's motherly arms when, some
two hours later, she left the Broughton Road for the boot factory. Miss
Toombs was already at the office when she got there. Mavis scarcely
recognised her friend, so altered was she in appearance. Dark rings
encircled her eyes; her skin was even more pasty than was its wont.
Mavis noticed that when her friend kissed her, she was trembling.
"What's the matter, dear?" asked Mavis.
"Indigestion. It's nothing at all."
The two friends talked quickly and quietly till Miss Hunter joined
them. Beyond giving Mavis the curtest of nods, this young person took
no notice of her.
Mavis was more grateful than otherwise for Miss Hunter's indifference;
she had feared a series of searching questions with regard to all that
had happened since she had been away from Melkbridge.
Miss Toombs's appearance and conduct at meeting with Mavis was not the
only strange behaviour which she displayed. When anyone came into the
office, she seemed in a fever of apprehension; also, when anyone spoke
to Mavis, her friend would at once approach and speak in such a manner
as to send them about their business as soon as possible. Mavis
wondered what it could mean.
Her boy did not seem quite so well when she got back to Mrs Trivett's
for the midday meal. During the afternoon's work, her anxiety was such
that she could scarcely concentrate her attention on what she was
doing. When she hurried home in the evening, the boy was decidedly
worse; there was no gainsaying the seriousness of his symptoms. Every
time Mavis tried to make him take nourishment, he would cry out as if
it hurt him to swallow.
Mrs Trivett, who had had much experience with the ailments of a
sister's big family, feared that the baby was sickening for something.
Mavis would have sent for a doctor at once, but Mrs Trivett pointed out
that doctors could do next to nothing for sick babies beyond ordering
them to be kept warm and to have nourishment in the shape of two drops
of brandy in water every two hours; also, that if it were necessary to
have skilled advice, the doctor had better be sent for when Mavis was
at the boot factory; otherwise, he might ask questions bearing on
matters which, just now, Mavis would prefer not to make public. Mrs
Trivett had much trouble in making the distraught mother appreciate the
wisdom of this advice. She only fell in with the woman's views when she
reflected, quite without cause, that the doctor's inevitable
questioning might, in some remote way, compromise her lover. Late in
the evening, when it was dark, Miss Toombs came round to see how
matters were going.
"It's all your fault, foolish Mavis, for coming to Melkbridge," she
remarked, when Mavis had told her of her perplexities.
"But how was I to know?"
"The only way to have guarded against complications was to keep away
altogether. I suppose you wouldn't go even now?"
"He's much too ill to move. Besides---"
"Will you go when he's better, if I tell you something?"
"What?" asked Mavis, seriously alarmed by the deadly earnestness of her
friend's manner.
"Miss Hunter!"
"What of her?"
"First tell me, where was it you went for your--your honeymoon?"
"Polperro. Why?"
"That's one of the places she's been to."
"And you think---?"
"Her manner's so funny. And you wondered why I was so jolly keen on
your not coming to Melkbridge!"
"I thought--I hoped my troubles were at an end," murmured Mavis.
"Whatever happens, you can rely on me till the death--when it's after
dark."
"What do you mean?" asked Mavis.
"Why, that much, much as I love you, I'm not going to risk the loss of
my winter fire, hot-water bottles, and books, for getting mixed up in
any scrape pretty Mavis gets herself into."
The next morning Mavis went to business in a state bordering on
distraction. The baby was not one whit better, and even hopeful Mrs
Trivett had shaken her head sadly. But she had pointed out that Mavis
could not help matters by remaining at home; she also promised to send
for a doctor should the baby's health not improve in the course of the
morning. Mavis was so distraught that she stared wildly at the one or
two people she chanced to meet, who, knowing her, seemed disposed to
stop and speak. She wondered if she should let her lover know the
disquieting state of his son's health. So far, she had not told him of
her coming to Melkbridge, wishing the inevitable meeting to come as a
delightful surprise. When she got to the office, she found a long
letter from Windebank, which she scarcely read, so greatly was her mind
disturbed. She only noted the request on which he was always insisting,
namely, that she was at once to communicate with him should she find
herself in trouble.
When she got back at midday, she found that, the baby being no better,
Mrs Trivett had sent her husband for a doctor who had recently come to
Melkbridge; also, that he had promised to call directly after lunch.
With this information, Mavis had to possess herself in patience till
she learned the doctor's report. That afternoon, the moments were
weighted with leaden feet. Three o'clock came; Mavis was beginning to
congratulate herself that, if the doctor had pronounced anything
seriously amiss with her child, Mrs Trivett would not have failed to
communicate with her, when a boy came into the office to ask for Miss
Keeves.
She jumped up excitedly, and the boy put a note into her hand. A
faintness overwhelmed her so that she could hardly find strength with
which to tear open the missive. When she finally did so, she read:
"Come at once, much trouble," scrawled in Mrs Trivett's writing.
Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, reached for her hat, the
while Miss Toombs watched her with sympathetic eyes. At the same time,
one of the factory foremen came into the office and put an envelope
into Mavis's hand. She paid no attention to this last beyond stuffing
it into a pocket of her frock. Her one concern was to reach the
Broughton Road with as little delay as possible. Once outside the
factory, she closely questioned the boy as he ran beside her, but he
could tell her nothing beyond that Mrs Trivett had given him a penny to
bring Mavis the note. When Mavis, breathless and faint, arrived at Mrs
Trivett's gate, she saw two or three people staring curiously at the
cottage. She all but fell against the door, and was at once admitted by
Mrs Trivett.
"The worst! Let me know the worst!" gasped the terror-stricken girl.
Mavis was told that her baby was ill with diphtheria; also, that a
broker's man was in possession at Mrs Trivett's.
"Will he get over it?" was Mavis's next question.
"It's for a lot of money. It's just on thirty pounds."
"I mean my boy."
"The doctor has hopes. He's coming in again presently."
Mavis hurried to the stairs leading to her bedroom. As she went up
these, she brushed against a surly-looking man who was coming down. She
rightly judged him to be the man in possession. She found the little
sufferer stretched upon his bed of pain with wildly dilating eyes; it
wrung Mavis's heart to see what difficulty he had with his breathing.
If she could only have done something to ease her baby's sufferings,
she would have been better able to bear the intolerable suspense. She
realised that she could do nothing till the doctor paid his next visit.
But she had forgotten; one thing she could do: she could pray for
divine assistance to the Heavenly Father who was able to heal all
earthly ills. This she did. Mavis prayed long and earnestly, with words
that came from her heart. She told Him how she had endured pain,
sorrow, countless debasing indignities without murmuring; if only in
consideration of these, she begged that the life of her little one
might be spared.
Whilst thus engaged, Mavis heard a tap at the door. She got up
impatiently as she called to whomsoever it might be to enter.
Mrs Trivett came in with many apologies for disturbing Mavis. She then
told her lodger that the broker's man was aware of the illness from
which Mavis's baby was suffering; also that, as he was a family man, he
objected to being in a house where there was a contagious disease, and
that, if the child were not removed to the local fever hospital by the
evening, he would inform the authorities. Mrs Trivett's information
spelt further trouble for Mavis. Apart from her natural disinclination
to confide her dearly loved child to the care of strangers, she saw a
direct menace to herself should the man carry out his threat of
insisting on the removal of the child. Montague Devitt was much bound
up with the town's municipal authorities. In this capacity, it was
conceivable that he might discover the identity of the child's mother;
failing this, her visits to the hospital to learn the child's progress
would probably excite comment, which, in a small town like Melkbridge,
could easily be translated into gossip that must reach the ears of the
Devitt family. The cloud of trouble hung heavily over Mavis.
"Can't--can't anything be done?" she asked desperately.
"It's either the hospital or paying the broker."
"How much is it?"
"Twenty-nine pounds sixteen."
"That's easily got," remarked Mavis. "At once?" asked Mrs Trivett, as
her worn face brightened.
"I don't suppose I could get it till the morrow. It would be then too
late?"
"But if you're sure of getting it, something might be arranged."
"Would the man take my word?"
"No. But he might know someone who would lend the money in a way that
would be convenient."
"See him at once. Find out if anything can be done," urged the
distracted mother.
Five minutes later, whilst Mavis was waiting in suspense, Mrs Trivett
came up to say that the doctor had come again. Mavis had no time to ask
her landlady what she had done with the broker's man, as the doctor
came into the room directly after he had been announced. He was quite a
young doctor, on whom the manners of an elderly man sat incongruously.
He glanced keenly at Mavis as he bowed to her; then, without saying a
word, he fell to examining the child's throat.
"Well?" asked Mavis breathlessly, when he had satisfied himself of its
condition.
"I must ask you a few questions," replied the doctor.
"What do you wish to know?" she asked with anxious heart.
He asked her much about the baby's place of birth, subsequent health
and diet.
When Mavis told him of the Pimlico supplied milk, which she had
sterilised herself, he shook his head.
"That accounts for the whole trouble," he remarked. "You should have
fed him yourself."
"It didn't agree with him, and then it went away," Mavis told him.
"Ah, you had worry?"
"A bit. Do you think he'll pull through?"
"I'll tell you more to-night," he informed her.
Mavis attracted men. The doctor, not being blind to her fascinations,
was not indisposed to linger for a moment's conversation, after he had
treated the baby's throat, during which Mavis thought it necessary to
tell him the old story of the husband in America who was preparing a
home for her.
"Some chap's been low enough to land that charming girl with that
baby," thought the doctor as he walked home. "She's as innocent as they
make 'em, otherwise she wouldn't have told me that silly husband yarn.
If she were an old hand, she'd have kept her mouth shut."
Meanwhile, Mavis had been summoned downstairs to a conference, in which
the broker's man (his name was Gunner), Mrs Trivett, and a man named
Hutton, whom Mr Trivett had fetched, took part.
Mavis was informed that Mr Hutton would lend her the money needed to
get rid of Mr Gunner's embarrassing presence, for which she was to pay
two pounds interest, if repaid in a month, and eight pounds interest a
year during which the capital sum was being repaid by monthly
instalments.
"I will telegraph to Germany," said Mavis. "You shall have the money
next week at latest."
Mr Hutton wanted guarantees; failing these, was Mavis in any kind of
employment?
Mavis told him how she was employed by Mr Devitt.
The man opened his eyes. Had the lady proof of this statement?
Mavis thrust her hand into her pocket, believing she might find the
letter which Montague Devitt had written to Pimlico. She brought out,
instead, the letter the foreman had put into her hand when she was
leaving in reply to Mrs Trivett's summons. The envelope of this was
addressed in Mr Devitt's hand.
"Here's a letter from him here," declared Mavis, as she tore it open to
glance at its contents before passing it on to Hutton.
But the glance hardened into a look of deadly seriousness as her eyes
fell on what was written. She re-read the letter two or three times
before she grasped its import.
"Dear Miss Keeves," it ran, "it is with the very deepest regret that I
write to say that certain facts have come to my knowledge with regard
to the way in which you spent your holiday last year at Polperro. I,
also, gather that your sudden departure from Melkbridge was in
connection with this visit. As a strict moral rectitude is a sine qua
non amongst those I employ, I must ask you to be good enough to resign
your appointment. I enclose cheque for present and next week's
salary.--Truly yours,
"MONTAGUE S.T. DEVITT."
The faces about her faded from her view; the room seemed as if it were
going round.
"What's the matter, ma'am?" asked Mrs Trivett anxiously.
"I can't give the guarantee," gasped Mavis.
Mr Hutton rose and buttoned his coat.
"What about Germany?" put in Mrs Trivett.
"I'd forgotten that," said Mavis. "I'll write a telegram at once."
Mr Hutton unbuttoned his coat.
"Here's ink and paper, ma'am."
Mavis took up the pen, at which Mr Hutton sat down. But she could not
remember the address. With swimming head, she dived her hand into the
pockets of her frock, but could not find Windebank's letter.
"I must have left it at the office," she murmured.
"What is it you want?" asked Mrs Trivett.
"His letter for the address."
Mr Hutton got up.
"What time is it?" asked Mavis.
"Just six o'clock."
"The factory would be locked for the night. Won't they take my word?"
she asked. "I don't want to be parted from my child while I go to the
factory."
Mr Hutton buttoned his coat.
Mavis made an impassioned appeal to the man in possession and his
friend. She might as well have talked to the stone walls which lined
the Dippenham Road for any impression she produced.
"This address will find me up to ten o'clock to-night, mum," said Mr
Hutton, as he threw a soiled envelope on the table. "An' if I'm woke up
arter, I charge it on the interest."
When Mr Hutton had taken his leave, Mavis fought an attack of
hysterics. Realising that Gunner, the broker's man, would prove as good
as his word in the matter of having her sick child removed, if the
money were not forthcoming, Mavis saw that there was no time to be
lost. She quickly wrote two notes, one of which was to Miss Toombs, the
other to Charlie Perigal. In these she briefly recounted the
circumstances of her necessity. Trivett was dispatched to Miss Toombs,
whilst his wife undertook to deliver Perigal's note at his father's
house.
Mavis waited by her beloved boy's side while the messengers sped upon
their respective errands. Her child was doubly dear to her now that
their separation was threatened. As his troubled eyes looked helplessly
(sometimes it seemed appealingly) into hers, she vowed again and again
that he should never be taken away to be nursed by strangers. Something
would happen, something must happen to prevent such a mutilation of her
holiest feelings as would be occasioned by her enforced separation from
her sick boy. Of course, why had she not thought of it before? Her
lover, the boy's father, would return with the messenger, to be
reconciled to her over the nursing of the ailing little life back to
health and strength. She had read much the same sort of thing in books,
which were always informed with life.
The minutes of the American clock, which had belonged to Miss Nippett,
laboriously totalled into an hour. Mavis could hear Gunner uneasily
shuffling in the room below. The late August evening was drawing in.
Mavis quite succeeded in persuading herself that this would prove the
last night of her misfortunes.
Mr Trivett was the first to return. He brought six pounds from Miss
Toombs, with a note saying that it was all she could lay hands upon.
This, with the four which Mavis possessed, made ten. Gunner smiled
amiably and set about collecting his clay pipes, which he had left in
odd corners of the cottage. Then, after half an hour of weary waiting,
Mrs Trivett came to the door, which Mavis opened with trembling hands.
She was alone. Her face proclaimed the fruitlessness of her errand.
"Mr Charles Perigal was out for the evening and would not be back till
quite late," she had been told.
This decided Mavis to act upon a resolve that, had been formulating in
her mind while waiting for Mrs Trivett's return.
"Give me half an hour," she said to the sullen Gunner. "I'll make it
well worth your while." She then went upstairs to kiss her baby before
setting out.
"Where are you going, ma'am?" asked tearful Mrs Trivett, who had
followed her upstairs.
"To Mr Devitt. He's kind at heart. I know, if I can see him, he'll give
me what I want."
"But will he see you?"
"I'll see to that. Promise you won't leave baby while I'm gone."
Mavis took a last look of her darling as she went out of the door. She
then let herself out and sped in the direction of the Bathminster Road.
She scarcely knew, she did not care, what she should say when she came
face to face with Devitt. She had almost forgotten that he had been
informed of her secret. All she knew was that she was in peril of
losing her sick child, and that she was fighting for its possession
with the weapons that came handiest. Nothing else in the world was of
the smallest account. She also dimly realised that she was fighting for
her lover's approval, to whom she would soon have to render an account
of her stewardship to his son. This gave edge to her determination. She
knocked at the door of the brightly lit, pretentious-looking house in
the Bathminster Road.
"I want to see Mr Devitt privately," she told the fat butler who opened
the door.
He would have shown her into a room, but she preferred to wait in the
hall, which, just now, was littered with trunks.
"I think he's with Mr Harold," said the man, as he walked to a door at
the further end of the hall.
The trunk labels were written in a firm, bold hand, which caught
Mavis's eye. "Harold Devitt, Esq., Homeleigh, Swanage, Dorset," was the
apparent destination of the luggage.
"Mr Devitt must be in the drawing-room," said Hayter, as he reappeared
to walk up the stairs.
Mavis, scarcely knowing what she was doing, followed the man up the
heavily carpeted stairs, which did not betray her footfalls.
The man opened the door of the drawing-room.
As she followed close on his heels, she heard a terrific peal at the
front door bell. Recollection of what she saw in the drawing-room is
burned into Mavis's memory and will remain there till her last moment
of consciousness.
Montague Devitt, in evening dress, was lolling before the fireplace.
His wife and her sister were busily engaged in unpacking showy articles
from boxes, which Mavis divined to be wedding gifts. Victoria Devitt,
sumptuously dressed, was seated on a low chair. Bending over her
shoulder in an attitude of unconcealed devotion was Charlie Perigal.
Mavis took in the significance of all that she saw at a glance. Her
blood went ice cold. Something snapped in her head. She opened her lips
to speak, but no words issued. Instead, one arm was uplifted to accuse.
Then she became rigid; only her eyes were eloquent.
Perigal was struck dumb by the apparently miraculous appearance of
Mavis in the room. Then, as her still body continued to menace him with
a gesture of seemingly eternal accusation, he became shamefaced. A hum
of voices sounded in Mavis's ears, but she was indifferent to what they
were saying.
Next, as if from a great distance, she heard her name called by a
familiar voice. She was impelled to turn in the direction from which it
came, to see Mrs Trivett, tearful, distraught, standing in the doorway.
Mavis's eyes expressed a fearful inquiry.
"Don't come back! don't come back," wailed the woman.
Thus, almost in the same breath, Mavis learned how she had lost both
lover and child.