Desperate Remedies
afraid that he’ll never get on--that he’ll die poor and despised under
the worst mental conditions, a keen sense of having been passed in the
race by men whose brains are nothing to his own, all through his seeing
too far into things--being discontented with make-shifts--thinking o’
perfection in things, and then sickened that there’s no such thing as
perfection. I shan’t be sorry to see him marry, since it may settle him
down and do him good.... Ay, we’ll hope for the best.’
He let go her hand and accompanied her to the door saying, ‘If you
should care to walk this way and talk to an old man once now and then,
it will be a great delight to him, Miss Graye. Good-evening to ye.... Ah
look! a thunderstorm is brewing--be quick home. Or shall I step up with
you?’
‘No, thank you, Mr. Springrove. Good evening,’ she said in a low voice,
and hurried away. One thought still possessed her; Edward had trifled
with her love.
4. FIVE TO SIX P.M.
She followed the road into a bower of trees, overhanging it so densely
that the pass appeared like a rabbit’s burrow, and presently reached a
side entrance to the park. The clouds rose more rapidly than the
farmer had anticipated: the sheep moved in a trail, and complained
incoherently. Livid grey shades, like those of the modern French
painters, made a mystery of the remote and dark parts of the vista, and
seemed to insist upon a suspension of breath. Before she was half-way
across the park the thunder rumbled distinctly.
The direction in which she had to go would take her close by the old
manor-house. The air was perfectly still, and between each low rumble of
the thunder behind she could hear the roar of the waterfall before her,
and the creak of the engine among the bushes hard by it. Hurrying on,
with a growing dread of the gloom and of the approaching storm, she drew
near the Old House, now rising before her against the dark foliage and
sky in tones of strange whiteness.
On the flight of steps, which descended from a terrace in front to the
level of the park, stood a man. He appeared, partly from the relief the
position gave to his figure, and partly from fact, to be of towering
height. He was dark in outline, and was looking at the sky, with his
hands behind him.
It was necessary for Cytherea to pass directly across the line of his
front. She felt so reluctant to do this, that she was about to turn
under the trees out of the path and enter it again at a point beyond
the Old House; but he had seen her, and she came on mechanically,
unconsciously averting her face a little, and dropping her glance to the
ground.
Her eyes unswervingly lingered along the path until they fell upon
another path branching in a right line from the path she was pursuing.
It came from the steps of the Old House. ‘I am exactly opposite him
now,’ she thought, ‘and his eyes are going through me.’
A clear masculine voice said, at the same instant--
‘Are you afraid?’
She, interpreting his question by her feelings at the moment, assumed
himself to be the object of fear, if any. ‘I don’t think I am,’ she
stammered.
He seemed to know that she thought in that sense.
‘Of the thunder, I mean,’ he said; ‘not of myself.’
She must turn to him now. ‘I think it is going to rain,’ she remarked
for the sake of saying something.
He could not conceal his surprise and admiration of her face and
bearing. He said courteously, ‘It may possibly not rain before you reach
the House, if you are going there?’
‘Yes, I am,’
‘May I walk up with you? It is lonely under the trees.’
‘No.’ Fearing his courtesy arose from a belief that he was addressing a
woman of higher station than was hers, she added, ‘I am Miss Aldclyffe’s
companion. I don’t mind the loneliness.’
‘O, Miss Aldclyffe’s companion. Then will you be kind enough to take a
subscription to her? She sent to me this afternoon to ask me to become
a subscriber to her Society, and I was out. Of course I’ll subscribe if
she wishes it. I take a great interest in the Society.’
‘Miss Aldclyffe will be glad to hear that, I know.’
‘Yes; let me see--what Society did she say it was? I am afraid I haven’t
enough money in my pocket, and yet it would be a satisfaction to her to
have practical proof of my willingness. I’ll get it, and be out in one
minute.’
He entered the house and was at her side again within the time he had
named. ‘This is it,’ he said pleasantly.
She held up her hand. The soft tips of his fingers brushed the palm of
her glove as he placed the money within it. She wondered why his fingers
should have touched her.
‘I think after all,’ he continued, ‘that the rain is upon us, and will
drench you before you reach the House. Yes: see there.’
He pointed to a round wet spot as large as a nasturtium leaf, which had
suddenly appeared upon the white surface of the step.
‘You had better come into the porch. It is not nearly night yet. The
clouds make it seem later than it really is.’
Heavy drops of rain, followed immediately by a forked flash of lightning
and sharp rattling thunder compelled her, willingly or no, to accept
his invitation. She ascended the steps, stood beside him just within the
porch, and for the first time obtained a series of short views of his
person, as they waited there in silence.
He was an extremely handsome man, well-formed, and well-dressed, of an
age which seemed to be two or three years less than thirty. The
most striking point in his appearance was the wonderful, almost
preternatural, clearness of his complexion. There was not a blemish or
speck of any kind to mar the smoothness of its surface or the beauty of
its hue. Next, his forehead was square and broad, his brows straight
and firm, his eyes penetrating and clear. By collecting the round of
expressions they gave forth, a person who theorized on such matters
would have imbibed the notion that their owner was of a nature to kick
against the pricks; the last man in the world to put up with a position
because it seemed to be his destiny to do so; one who took upon himself
to resist fate with the vindictive determination of a Theomachist.
Eyes and forehead both would have expressed keenness of intellect too
severely to be pleasing, had their force not been counteracted by the
lines and tone of the lips. These were full and luscious to a surprising
degree, possessing a woman-like softness of curve, and a ruby redness
so intense, as to testify strongly to much susceptibility of heart where
feminine beauty was concerned--a susceptibility that might require
all the ballast of brain with which he had previously been credited to
confine within reasonable channels.
His manner was rather elegant than good: his speech well-finished and
unconstrained.
The pause in their discourse, which had been caused by the peal of
thunder was unbroken by either for a minute or two, during which
the ears of both seemed to be absently following the low roar of the
waterfall as it became gradually rivalled by the increasing rush of rain
upon the trees and herbage of the grove. After her short looks at him,
Cytherea had turned her head towards the avenue for a while, and now,
glancing back again for an instant, she discovered that his eyes were
engaged in a steady, though delicate, regard of her face and form.
At this moment, by reason of the narrowness of the porch, their dresses
touched, and remained in contact.
His clothes are something exterior to every man; but to a woman
her dress is part of her body. Its motions are all present to her
intelligence if not to her eyes; no man knows how his coat-tails swing.
By the slightest hyperbole it may be said that her dress has sensation.
Crease but the very Ultima Thule of fringe or flounce, and it hurts her
as much as pinching her. Delicate antennae, or feelers, bristle on every
outlying frill. Go to the uppermost: she is there; tread on the lowest:
the fair creature is there almost before you.
Thus the touch of clothes, which was nothing to Manston, sent a thrill
through Cytherea, seeing, moreover, that he was of the nature of a
mysterious stranger. She looked out again at the storm, but still felt
him. At last to escape the sensation she moved away, though by so doing
it was necessary to advance a little into the rain.
‘Look, the rain is coming into the porch upon you,’ he said. ‘Step
inside the door.’
Cytherea hesitated.
‘Perfectly safe, I assure you,’ he added, laughing, and holding the door
open. ‘You shall see what a state of disorganization I am in--boxes on
boxes, furniture, straw, crockery, in every form of transposition. An
old woman is in the back quarters somewhere, beginning to put things to
rights.... You know the inside of the house, I dare say?’
‘I have never been in.’
‘O well, come along. Here, you see, they have made a door through, here,
they have put a partition dividing the old hall into two, one part is
now my parlour; there they have put a plaster ceiling, hiding the old
chestnut-carved roof because it was too high and would have been chilly
for me; you see, being the original hall, it was open right up to the
top, and here the lord of the manor and his retainers used to meet and
be merry by the light from the monstrous fire which shone out from
that monstrous fire-place, now narrowed to a mere nothing for my grate,
though you can see the old outline still. I almost wish I could have had
it in its original state.’
‘With more romance and less comfort.’
‘Yes, exactly. Well, perhaps the wish is not deep-seated. You will see
how the things are tumbled in anyhow, packing-cases and all. The only
piece of ornamental furniture yet unpacked is this one.’
‘An organ?’
‘Yes, an organ. I made it myself, except the pipes. I opened the case
this afternoon to commence soothing myself at once. It is not a very
large one, but quite big enough for a private house. You play, I dare
say?’
‘The piano. I am not at all used to an organ.’
‘You would soon acquire the touch for an organ, though it would spoil
your touch for the piano. Not that that matters a great deal. A piano
isn’t much as an instrument.’
‘It is the fashion to say so now. I think it is quite good enough.’
‘That isn’t altogether a right sentiment about things being good
enough.’
‘No--no. What I mean is, that the men who despise pianos do it as a rule
from their teeth, merely for fashion’s sake, because cleverer men have
said it before them--not from the experience of their ears.’
Now Cytherea all at once broke into a blush at the consciousness of a
great snub she had been guilty of in her eagerness to explain herself.
He charitably expressed by a look that he did not in the least mind her
blunder, if it were one; and this attitude forced him into a position of
mental superiority which vexed her.
‘I play for my private amusement only,’ he said. ‘I have never learned
scientifically. All I know is what I taught myself.’
The thunder, lightning, and rain had now increased to a terrific
force. The clouds, from which darts, forks, zigzags, and balls of fire
continually sprang, did not appear to be more than a hundred yards above
their heads, and every now and then a flash and a peal made gaps in the
steward’s descriptions. He went towards the organ, in the midst of a
volley which seemed to shake the aged house from foundations to chimney.
‘You are not going to play now, are you?’ said Cytherea uneasily.
‘O yes. Why not now?’ he said. ‘You can’t go home, and therefore we may
as well be amused, if you don’t mind sitting on this box. The few chairs
I have unpacked are in the other room.’
Without waiting to see whether she sat down or not, he turned to the
organ and began extemporizing a harmony which meandered through every
variety of expression of which the instrument was capable. Presently he