JOE HEARS THE SECRET
Susan and Thomas were returning from church, where they had sat
solemnly together and heard their banns called for the first time of
asking. Mr. Stockman, informed that this would happen, declined to
go; indeed of late he had worshipped but seldom, permitting personal
trials to check his devotions. The betrothed pair discussed Susan's
father on the way home and Palk held it an impropriety that Mr.
Stockman should not have been present.
"Out of respect to you, he did ought to have been there," he said;
"and it's a very oneasy thing; because the next we shall hear may be
that he won't come to the wedding neither."
"He's a regular Job for the minute--first one thing took and then
another, till I dare say he feels the Lord have turned from him,"
murmured Susan.
"Not at all. Naught have overtook him that ain't well inside the
common lot. Look at the items--firstly, his daughter gets engaged to
be married to his hossman--a thing that ought to rejoice him instead
of cast him down; secondly, his cowman gives notice--a thing that may
happen to any farmer; and thirdly, yonder woman won't take him."
Thomas pointed where, fifty yards ahead of them, Melinda and her
brother were walking home from church.
Soosie-Toosie nodded mournfully.
"There's no doubt. And that's a very harsh blow for father anyway.
He'd always counted he could fall back on Melinda, like you put by a
nest egg for the rainy day. And I'm a good bit disappointed in that
quarter--quite as much as father in fact. But you mustn't whisper
it, Tom; because of course the world ain't supposed to know father
offered and got turned down."
"Other people won't pretend if we do," answered Mr. Palk. "He blew
the trumpet about it himself, and everybody well understands that
Mrs. Honeysett refused him."
"I'd give a fortune to know why," answered Joe's daughter. "Some day
I'll ax her, I shouldn't wonder. Meantime I'd very much like to talk
to her on another subject; and that's us."
"We must go on our appointed way. We don't want no outside opinions."
They overtook Melinda, and while Thomas talked with Jerry, the women
fell back and Susan spoke of private affairs. She explained her
gathering difficulties and Melinda listened with a good deal of
sympathy.
"'Tis very undignified of your father, Susan--more like a naughty,
disappointed child, than a man with fame for sense. I allow for him,
because a good few things have happened to shake him; yet, so far as
you and Mr. Palk are concerned, it did ought to be all joy and
gladness."
"So it ought; but far from it," answered the other. "Father's got to
such a pass now that when I tell him I'm wishful to name the day, he
dares me to do so."
"Very wilful and unkind, and something ought to be done about it,"
declared Mrs. Honeysett. "I've been thinking a good deal on Joe
lately, as I dare say you can guess; and no doubt you know very well
why he came to see me a fortnight agone, Soosie. But I don't forget
the past and I don't want to lose his friendship, nor yet yours. And
I've thought a lot about you and him."
They lagged and mumbled together for some time; but it was clear that
Melinda's views commended themselves much to Susan, and when they
joined Jerry and Thomas at the turn to Mrs. Honeysett's house, Joe
Stockman's daughter thanked her friend gratefully for some inspiring
suggestions.
She talked without ceasing to Tom all the way home, and he listened
and nodded and declared there might be a good deal in it.
"'Tis a great thought," he said, "and if you feel kind to it, then I
might. Us'll see--'tis a rod to hold over the man, because it be
full time for your father to find out where he stands."
"'Tis a sort of bargain of course," admitted Susan; "but you wouldn't
call it a one-sided bargain."
"Not at all. It lets him out so as he can save his face before the
folk. And it shows him what good-tempered creatures you and me are."
Thomas thought it might be possible to speak at the end of that day.
"I'll ax him to have a spot out of my bottle to-night," he said, "and
if he condescends so far as to do so, then I'll open on him--not
otherwise."
Mr. Palk was disappointed, however, for during the evening there came
in John Bamsey to supper.
He appeared to be in a good temper and hid the object of his visit
until after the meal was ended. He spoke chiefly of his own work on
the river, and then of his father. Mr. Bamsey had sunk to be the
mere husk of a man and his son frankly hoped that he might soon pass
away.
"To know he was dead wouldn't be half so wisht as to see him alive
like this," he said.
John was tactful with regard to Susan and Thomas. Indeed, he
congratulated them out of earshot of Cousin Joe, and hoped it would
be all right. To Maynard he was civil and no more.
Then, when opportunity came to do so, unheard by anybody else, he
asked Mr. Stockman to walk out and smoke a pipe as he had something
private to tell him. Joe was bored, for no affairs but his own
interested him at this moment; but he obliged the younger, and
through a warm, thundery night they strolled upon the Beacon. For a
time the elder uttered general grievances and when he mentioned
Lawrence Maynard, John struck in.
"That's why I wanted to get you away from them. There's a bit of
news about Maynard; but perhaps you know it. And when it's out, he's
got to reckon with me."
"Maynard's a very disappointing chap," declared the farmer. "Never
did I like a man better, and never did I treat a man better, and I'm
quite reasonable in that quarter when I say this is no ordinary case
of a hand giving notice. He's outside his right to do any such thing
with me; for I've been as good as a father to him for very near two
years, and he well knew I never counted upon his going, and he's got
no justice or honesty in him to do so."
"No, there's not much honesty or justice in him. And I dare say you
wondered why he was going."
"I wondered certainly."
"I'll tell you. He's going to be married, and he couldn't dare to be
married here, because he knew that he'd got me to reckon with. So
he's planned it on the quiet, and he'll disappear presently no doubt;
and then somebody else will disappear too. And that's Dinah Waycott."
Mr. Stockman was much agitated.
"Good powers! D'you know what you're saying, John?" he asked.
"Very well indeed. And I'll tell you how it was; but I don't want
Maynard to know his dirty job be found out, and I'll beg you to keep
dumb about it till things are a bit forwarder. I can get forty
shillings or a month out of him, and give him a damned good hiding
and disgrace him for his underhand, blackguard conduct--stealing
another man's girl--but I want to do a bit more than that if it's in
my power. And so long as you're not on his side no more, you'll be
the best one to help me. I'd do a lot to break this off and punish
Dinah, same as she punished me; and why not? She deserves it quite
so well as him."
"Begin at the beginning," said Joe. "Tell me what you know. I'm
your side without a doubt in this matter. There's a lot hid here you
don't understand, and, for the credit of human nature, I hope you're
wrong. This may be something that you've given ear to, out of ill
feeling against Orphan Dinah. You must be terrible sure of your
ground, for there's very good reasons why you ought to be mistaken.
But if you're right, then you be the tool of Providence and it's well
you came to me."
Johnny, who had learned everything from Jane, told the story with
only one addition contrary to facts. Jane lied in a minor particular
and concealed the incident of looking into Dinah's letter. Instead
she declared that she had hidden herself, and watched, and seen
Maynard come for the letter and leave another on the following
evening in late dusk. The conclusion amounted to the same thing.
Joe was deeply impressed.
"I always held him a bit sly," he said, "and I've lived to find him
ungrateful and hard-hearted where I'd every right to expect something
very different. He struck me at the very moment when a decent man
would have scorned to do so, with all my own troubles thick upon me.
But this is something a lot deeper than his conduct to me, and even a
lot worse."
"I'm glad you think so," answered John. "I'm very glad you see he's
a secret, cowardly sort of one. He kindiddled Dinah away from me no
doubt; and very like it is Providence, as you say; and if you don't
think he ought to marry her, then I hope you'll help me to prevent
it."
Johnny felt exalted. He had not expected much from his visit to his
kinsman; he had even feared that Joe might already know the facts and
attach no importance to them; but it seemed that Mr. Stockman was
quite of John's opinion. Indeed he declared so.
"I certainly think they ought not to marry," he answered. "And I
think a great deal more than that. Keep your mouth shut close for
the present. There's plenty of time--unless."
"When's the man going?"
"No date be fixed."
"My mother was put out when Dinah went off a bit ago. She got the
idea from Jane that Dinah had gone to be married then. But when they
taxed her, she swore she had not."
"She couldn't tell a lie if she was paid to," declared Mr. Stockman,
"and Maynard certainly weren't in that, because he was here and I saw
him every day about his business. We must rest the blame on the
right pair of shoulders. And it'll break 'em without a doubt. But
we'd best to go careful. Don't you take a step alone. How many
know?"
"Only Jane and Jerry and me."
"Maynard don't suspect?"
"Neither of 'em--they couldn't."
"Then tell your sister and Withycombe to keep dumb as mice for the
minute; and so will I. This is a very serious thing indeed--and a
great shock to me. To think he was that sort!"
John was pleased but mystified. He failed to see why this event
should make so tremendous an impression on Mr. Stockman.
"I'm very glad you think it is so bad," he said. "I was in a bit of
doubt if you'd take my side."
"As to sides," answered Joe, "I'm going to take the side of right,
which is no more than to say I'll do my duty. And that looks pretty
clear. I dare say you are a bit astonished, but understand me. I'm
not making your quarrel mine, and I don't hold at all with your talk
about forty shillings or a month out of Lawrence Maynard. This goes
a very great deal deeper than forty shillings or a month, I may tell
you. I'll say no more for the minute; but I shan't do naught till
I've seen you again. Only keep this in mind: Maynard ain't planning
this hookem snivey job and doing it all in secret, because he's
afraid of you, but because he's afraid of me."
Johnny became more and more puzzled. It was clear, however, that he
had won a powerful friend and might now hope to strike a harder
stroke than any with his fist.
"So long as you be going to queer the man's pitch, and punish him,
and get Dinah away from him, I don't care a damn," he said. "If
Dinah finds out; but perhaps he's made her think----"
"Yes; he's made her think a lot, and he's told her a great many dark
and devilish falsehoods--that's very clear indeed," answered Joe.
"And if her eyes be opened, she may come back to sense yet!" cried
the sanguine youth. "Shame will show her the truth perhaps."
Mr. Stockman did not answer. He was occupied with his own
reflections.
"This shakes me to the vitals," he declared presently. "I thought I
knew pretty well all there was to that man; and I knew less than
naught. If anybody had said he was a wicked scoundrel, I'd have
denied and defied it; but----"
They had descended from the Beacon and were walking on the Buckland
road. Then Joe stopped.
"You go your way now," he said, "and leave me to put this together.
You do naught and I'll do naught for the minute. But there may not
be any too much time. He was going at Michaelmas. 'Tis certain now
that's a blind. He'll take French leave presently and we've got to
be before him. Come to supper o' Wednesday, John. Then us'll see
how it looks. That poor woman--as honest a creature as ever stepped."
"If he's up to any tricks----"
"He is, by God! Now I'll leave you. And be so silent as the grave
till you see me again."
Deeply wondering and greatly rejoicing at his success, John Bamsey
went down the hill, while Mr. Stockman turned and slowly ascended.
His excitement gave way to listlessness presently, for this discovery
and the subsequent sensation could not advance Joe's own problems.
He considered for a moment whether any course existed by which
advantage could accrue to himself out of Maynard's position; but he
saw none.
A trap from Ashburton descended, flashing its lights through the
leafy darkness of the road; and when the ray illuminated Mr.
Stockman, he heard a woman's voice bid the driver pull up. It was
Mrs. Honeysett who spoke, and she seized an opportunity to relieve
the existing painful conditions. For she had not seen Joe since she
declined him; but here was an excuse and she took it.
"You'll be wondering what I'm doing at this time of night," she said,
"but I can't pass you."
Then she alighted and a man alighted with her.
"Just been to Ashburton to meet my brother, Robert," she explained.
"You remember him. He's home for a bit at last."
A huge figure towered in the gloom over Joe and a heavy hand grasped
his own.
"I remember you," said the farmer, "but I forgot you were such a
whacker. Sailed all the Seven Seas, I suppose, since you was last to
Buckland?"
"He's two inches taller than what dear father was," declared Melinda,
relieved to find Mr. Stockman in a humour apparently amiable.
"Robert's going to take a nice rest along with me. In fact he doubts
sometimes if he'll go back to sea at all."
"No, no--I don't doubt that," answered the sailor. "But I be going
to give work a rest."
"And find a wife, if he can," continued Melinda. "Us must help him,
Joe."
"I always swore as I'd marry a maiden from the Vale," said Robert
Withycombe.
"The puzzle will be to find one, I tell him," laughed Melinda "I know
a likely girl all the same, and so does Mr. Stockman, Bob."
Joe guessed to whom she referred, and it showed him that Melinda knew
nothing of the threatened tragedy.
"I reckon you mean Orphan Dinah," he said. "Well and why not? A
very sensible young woman. The man that gets her will be lucky."
"They'd be a proper pair and I hope Bob will think well of her. But
he must be warned that she's already changed her mind in one quarter."
"That's not against her," replied Joe. "That shows strength of
character and she had every right to do so. I only hope I know
another woman who'll be wise enough to change her mind."
Before this veiled attack, Melinda was silent and Robert spoke.
"My girl, when she comes along, won't have no time to change her
mind. She've got to marry me and be quick about it. Then us must
find a little house to Southampton, or else Plymouth."
Stockman, with certain ideas moving in his head, issued an invitation.
"Perhaps you'll be in luck--who knows? I'd pleasure you for your
sister's sake, because she and me are very good friends, and I hope
always will be. You come to supper o' Wednesday, Robert, and bring
Jerry along with you. I don't ax you, Melinda--not this time. I
want to have a tell with your brothers; mind you make 'em come."
"Come and welcome," promised Robert, while his sister wondered what
might be behind this invitation. They parted; the trap with the
sailor and his kit-bag rolled down the hill and Joe proceeded home.
He was gloomy and his thoughts concerned themselves with Melinda, but
not hopefully. All had changed with her refusal. Even if she did,
indeed, find herself in a mood to accept him on another invitation,
it would never be the same to Mr. Stockman. He did not care for her
enough to let any future 'yes' make him forget the grave rebuff
already suffered. Indeed he did not very much want her now. Like a
skeleton between them must ever persist the recollection of her
refusal. He only realised the attractive features of the old
arrangement at the moment when it was about to end, and he still
smouldered with intense heat when he reflected on his daughter's
marriage. In the light of this evening's revelation he was disposed
to add another sin to those upon the head of Lawrence Maynard. It
occurred to him that the cowman might have had a hand in Susan's
romance and urged Thomas forward upon his hateful course. He began
to be convinced that Lawrence had inspired Thomas, possibly for
private ends hidden from Joe. He suspected that these men had made a
cat'spaw of him, and since Thomas was certainly not equal to any such
task single-handed, to the subtler Maynard might chief blame be
assigned.
He found himself hating Maynard and taking grim satisfaction in the
thought Lawrence had over-reached himself. Here, at any rate, was an
outlet for Mr. Stockman's pent-up indignation. One man should have
justice at his hands, and if the downfall of Maynard indirectly smote
Palk, or even changed his determination, so much the better. Joe
indeed always hoped that something might happen even at the last
moment to upset the marriage of Susan, and he would have stuck at no
reasonable means of doing so. He had assured himself long ago that,
for her own sake, such a step must be taken if the least opportunity
occurred.