HARRY IS NOT GRATEFUL
Where the lane from Fortis Green crosses the high road there stood an
ale-house. On the wettest days, and some others, the place was Harry's
resort. Not that he had a liking for ale-house company--or indeed any
company. But within the precincts of the Wavertons' house tobacco was
forbidden and--all the more for that--tobacco he loved with a solid
devotion. The alehouse of the cross roads offered a clean floor, a clean
fire, air not too foul, a tolerable chair, a landlord who did not talk,
and until evening, sufficient solitude. There Harry smoked many pipes in
tranquillity until the day when on his entry he found Mr. Hadley's
sardonic face waiting for him. He liked Charles Hadley less than many men
whom he more despised. Nobody in a position just better than menial can
be expected to like the condescending mockery which was Mr. Hadley's
_metier_. But Harry--it is one of his most noble qualities--bore being
laughed at well enough. What most annoyed him was Mr. Hadley's parade of
a surly, austere virtue. He did not doubt that it was sincere. He could
more easily have forgiven it if it had been hypocritical. A man had no
business to be so mighty honest.
Mr. Hadley nodded at Harry, who said it was a dirty day, and called for
his pot of small ale and his pennyworth of Spanish tobacco. Mr. Hadley
was civil enough to pass him a pipe from the box. Both gentlemen smoked
in grave silence.
"So you are still with us," said Mr. Hadley.
"By your good leave, sir."
"I had an apprehension the Colonel was going to ravish you away."
"I hope I am still of some use to Mr. Waverton."
"Damme, you might be the old family retainer. 'Faithful service of the
antique world,' egad. I suppose you will end your days with Geoffrey, and
be buried at his feet like a trusty hound."
"If you please, sir."
They looked at each other. "Well, Mr. Boyce, I beg your pardon," Hadley
said. "But you'll allow you are irritating to a plain man."
"I do not desire it, sir."
"I may hold my tongue and mind my own business, eh? Why not take me
friendly?"
"I intend you no harm, Mr. Hadley."
"That's devilish good of you, Mr. Boyce. To be plain with you, what do
you want here?"
"Here? Oh Lord, sir, I come to smoke my pipe!"
"And what if I come to smoke you? Odds life, I know you are no fool. Do
me the honour to take me for none. And tell me, if you please, why do you
choose to be Master Geoffrey's gentleman in waiting? You are good for
better than that, Mr. Boyce."
"No doubt, sir. But it brings me bread and butter."
"You could earn that fighting in Flanders."
Harry shrugged. "I am not very brave, Mr. Hadley."
"You count upon staying here, do you?"
"If I can satisfy Mr. Waverton," said Harry meekly.
Hadley's face grew harder. "I vow I do my best to wish you well,
Mr. Boyce. I should be glad to hear that you'll give up walking in
the woods."
There was a moment of silence. "I did not know that I had asked for your
advice, sir." Harry said. "I am not grateful for it."
"Damme, that's the first honest answer you have made," Hadley cried.
"Look 'e, Mr. Boyce, I am as much your friend as I may be. I have an
uncle which was the lady's guardian. If I said a word to him he would
carry it to Lady Waverton in a gouty rage. There would be a swift end of
Mr. Boyce the tutor. Well, I would not desire that. For all your airs,
I'll believe you a man of honour. And I ask you what's to become of Mr.
Boyce the tutor seeking private meetings with the Lambourne heiress?
Egad, sir, you were made for better things than such a mean business."
"Honour!" Harry sneered. "Were you talking of men of honour? I suppose
there is good cover in the woods, Mr. Hadley."
Hadley stared at him. "It was not good enough, you see, sir." He knocked
out his pipe and stood up. "Bah, this is childish. You don't think me a
knave, nor I you. I have said my say, and I mean you well."
"I believe that, Mr. Hadley"--Harry met him with level eyes--"and I am
not grateful."
"You know who she is meant for."
"I know that the lady might call us both impudent."
"Would that break your bones? Come, sir, the lady hath been destined for
Master Geoffrey since she had hair and never has rebelled."
"Lord, Mr. Hadley, are you destiny?"
Mr. Hadley let that by with an impatient shrug. "So if you be fool enough
to have ambitions after her, you would wear a better face in eating no
more of Master Geoffrey's bread."
"It's a good day for walking, Mr. Hadley. Which way do you go? For I go
the other."
"I hope so," Mr. Hadley agreed, and on that the two gentlemen parted,
both something warm.
We should flatter him in supposing Harry Boyce of a chivalrous delicacy.
Whether the lady's fair fame might be the worse for him was a question of
which he never thought. It is certain that he did not blame himself for
using his place as Geoffrey's paid servant to damage Geoffrey in his
affections. And indeed you will agree that he was innocent of any
designed attack upon the lady. Yet Mr. Hadley succeeded in making him
very uncomfortable.
What most troubled him, I conceive, was the fear of being ridiculous. The
position of a poor tutor aspiring to the favours of the heiress destined
for his master invites the unkind gibe. And Harry could not be sure that
Alison herself was free from the desire to make him a figure of scorn.
Such a suspicion might disconcert the most ardent of lovers. Harry
Boyce, whatever his abilities in the profession, was not that yet. But
the very fact that he had come to feel an ache of longing for Alison made
him for once dread laughter. If he had been manoeuvring for what he could
get by her, or if he had been merely taken by her good looks, he might
have met jeering with a brazen face. But she had engaged his most private
emotions, and to have them made ludicrous would be of all possible
punishments most intolerable. The precise truth of what he felt for her
then was, I suppose, that he wanted to make her his own--wanted to have
all of her in his power; and a gentleman whom the world--and the
lady--are laughing at for an aspiring menial cannot comfortably think
about his right to possess her.
There was something else. He was not meticulously delicate, but he had a
complete practical sanity. He saw very well that even if Alison, by the
chance of circumstance, had some infatuation for him, she might soon
repent: he saw that even if the affair went with romantic success--a
thing hardly possible--his position and hers might be awkward enough.
Her friends would be long in forgiving either of them, and find ways
enough to hurt them both. Mr. Hadley, confound him, spoke the common
sense of mankind.
There was one solution--that estimable father. By the time he came back
to the house on Tether-down, Harry was resolved to enlist under the
ambiguous banner of Colonel Boyce.