The Man Who Did the Right Thing: A Romance
"Eh?" returned Mrs. Baines, fixing her cold grey eyes on Lucy. She had
heard perfectly well, but she thought it more consistent with dignity
not to lend too ready an ear to the girl's remarks. Lucy repeated more
distinctly her question.
"You had better ask _him_ all about it," replied John's mother. "I have
other things to think about on the Lord's Day besides railway
time-tables."
"Why? Are you coming to see me off, Lucy?" asked John.
"Well, yes; that is, if Mrs. Baines doesn't mind."
"_I_ mind?" exclaimed the angry woman in a strident voice. "What have
_I_ got to do with it; I suppose railway stations are free to every
one?"
"Yes," said Lucy, with an ache at the back of her throat and almost
inclined then and there to break off her engagement. "But I thought you
might like to have John all to yourself at the last. However, if you
have no objection, I should much like to see him off, poor old
fellow"--and Lucy gave his big-knuckled hand an affectionate pat--"I
think I can manage it. Father has to come into Theale. He will drop me
at the station and pick me up again, and school doesn't begin till nine.
What time does your train go, John?"
"Twenty-five past seven. I shall get to London soon after nine. After
going to the head-quarters of the Mission and getting my final
instructions I shall drive straight down to the docks and go on board
the _Godavery_.... The first place we stop at is Algiers, then Malta,
then the Suez Canal and Aden. I expect this is just what _you'll_ have
to do, Lucy, when you come out next spring."
Lucy smiled brightly. She had gradually grown into her engagement as
she grew from girlhood to womanhood, constrained by John's bland
assumption that the damsel he selected was bound to be his wife. But
perhaps her main inducement was his fixed determination to become a
missionary and her intense longing to see "foreign parts," the wonderful
and the interesting world. She was just rallying her spirits to make
some animated reply about Algiers when Mrs. Baines intervened and said
there were limits to all things, and if they didn't wish to pass the
whole of the Lord's Day eating, drinking, and talking they had better
rise and let Eliza clear away. On hearing these words, Mr. Baines
turned the last cherries into his plate and hastily biting them off and
ejecting the stones, pushed his chair back with a sigh. Then, rising
heavily, he stumbled into the armchair near the fireplace and composed
himself for a nap. The maid began to clear away, longing to get back to
her Sunday dinner and concealed novelette. Lucy went to put on her hat;
John yawned and drummed his fingers on the window-pane; and Mrs. Baines
seated herself stiffly in the armchair opposite her satiated husband,
with a large brown Bible on her lap and two or three leaflets covered
with small-print references to Scripture.
When John heard Lucy tripping downstairs he went to meet her, feeling
instinctively that her re-appearance in the dining-room would draw some
bitter comment from his mother. He put on his felt wide-awake, took a
stout stick, and soon banged the front door on his sweetheart and
himself in a way which sent a shiver through the frame of Mrs. Baines,
who with an impatient sigh of disgust applied herself to a gloomy
portion of the Old Testament.
Probably had John remained to keep her company she would have made no
attempt to entertain him; but she would have applied herself with real
interest to Scriptural exegesis. Of her class and of her time what
little romance and intellectuality she had was put into Bible study.
She believed the British--degenerate though they might appear as to
Sabbath observance--were descended from the Ten Lost Tribes, who had
been led by the prophet Jeremiah to Ireland in an unnecessary spurt of
energy and had then returned in coracles to the more favoured Britain,
Jeremiah--age being of no moment where the Divine purpose was
concerned--having taken in marriage a daughter of the Irish king----
But ... the ingratitude of her only son, who could not give up to his
mother's society his last Sunday afternoon in England! She choked with
unshed tears and read verse after verse of the early part of Jeremiah
without understanding one word, although she was told in her leaflets
that the diatribes bore special reference to England in the latter part
of the nineteenth century.... No, the thought of John wandering about
the hayfields with Lucy--for, of course, that girl would lead him into
the hayfields, perhaps throw hay at him--constantly rose before her, and
once or twice a few hot tears dimmed her sight.... "The Lord said also
unto me in the days of Josiah the King: Hast thou seen that which
backsliding Israel hath done?..."
She had devoted all the money she could save, all the time she could
spare to the bringing-up of this boy. She had sent him to college and
made him a gentleman. She had done her duty by him as a mother, and this
was the return he made. He preferred to spend his last Sunday afternoon
frolicking about the country with a feather-headed girl to passing it
quietly by his mother's side, as he formerly used to do.... They might
even have had a word of prayer together. Mrs. Baines was not usually a
woman who encouraged outbursts of vocal piety outside the chapel, but on
such an occasion as this.... She might not see him for another five
years..
"And I said, after she had done all these things, Turn thou unto me.
But she returned not."--Now was it becoming for a grown man, a
missionary who had occupied the pulpit at Salem Chapel in the morning,
to go gallivanting about the meadows with a young woman in the
afternoon? What would any of the congregation say who saw him? A nice
spectacle, to be sure!-- "And the Lord said unto me, The back-sliding
Israel hath justified herself more than treacherous Judah..." "Let me
see," reflected Mrs. Baines, trying to give her attention to her
reading, "Judah represents the Church of England, and Israel is ...
Israel is ... Baines! For goodness _sake_ don't snore like that. You
ought to be ashamed of yourself! _How_ you can reconcile it with your
conscience to guzzle like a pig every Sunday at dinner and then pass the
rest of the afternoon snoring and snoozing instead of reading your
Bible, _I_ don't know."
Mr. Baines's bloodshot, greenish eyes regarded his wife with dazed
wonderment for a few seconds. Then their red lids dropped and a gentle
breathing announced the resumption of his slumbers. For a few moments
Mrs. Baines really devoted her attention to the third chapter of
Jeremiah; but when once more the respirations of her spouse degenerated
into raucous snores, she lost all patience with him, and put away her
Bible and pamphlets. She could not stop in the house any longer. It
was allowable to visit the sick on the Sabbath day. She would go and
see old Mrs. Gannell in Stebling's Cottages and read some tracts to her.
So she shook off imaginary crumbs from her skirts, went upstairs to put
on her Sunday bonnet, and left her husband--though he was unconscious of
the privilege--to snore and chuckle and drivel and snore unrebuked for a
couple of hours.
*CHAPTER II*
*JOHN AND LUCY*
John and Lucy strode rapidly through the outskirts of the village, past
the inspection of curious eyes from over the rim of window blinds, into
the quiet country, which lay sleeping in veiled sunshine; for the warmth
of the June sun had created a slight haze in the river valley and men
and beasts seemed drowsy with the concentrated, undispersed odour of the
newly-cut hay. They crossed a little stream by a wooden bridge, climbed
two stiles--Lucy gaily, John bashfully, as if fearing that his new-born
dignity of preacher might suffer thereby--walked about a quarter of a
mile down a densely shaded lane where the high hedgerows were flecked
with pale pink, yellow-stamened dogroses, and where the honeysuckle
trailed its simple light green foliage and hung out its lank fists of
yellow fingers: and then arrived at an open space and a broad high road.
This they followed until they came to a white gate, marked in black
letters "To Englefield. Private." Without hesitation, from
long-established custom, they raised the latch and entered the dense
shade of a well-timbered wood with a glimpse here and there, through the
tree trunks, of open water.
Lucy sighed with relief and pleasure when the white gate swung to behind
her and she was walking on a turf-covered track under the shade of great
beech trees. Though the scene was familiar to her she exclaimed at its
beauty. John mopped his face industriously, flapped away the flies,
blew his nose, and wiped the brim of his hat. "Yes, yes," he would
reply, looking to see if his boots were very dusty or whether there were
any grass seeds sticking to the skirts of his frock-coat. "Canterbury
bells, is that what you call them? Yes, there seem to be lots this year.
Here's a nice, clean trunk of a tree. Let's sit down and have our
talk...."
"Oh, not here, John. It's too midgy. We will go farther on to The
View: there's a seat there."
So they followed the broad, turfy track which commenced to ascend the
flank of a down. On the right hand the great trees rose higher and
higher into the sky; on the left the ground sloped away to the level of
the little lake with its swans and water-lilies; and the turf near at
hand was dark blue and purple-green with the bugle in flower. In the
ascending woodland there were tall ranks of red-mauve foxgloves. Here
the owner of the park had placed an ample wooden seat for the
delectation of all who loved landscape beauty.
John threw himself down with heavy abandonment on the grey planks. Had
he been alone he would certainly have taken off his boots to ease his
hot and compressed feet, but some instinct told him his betrothed might
not think the action seemly. Lucy stood for a few moments gazing at the
view over the Kennet valley and then sat down beside him.
"How dreadfully you perspire, my poor John," she said, looking at the
wet red hand which clasped the rail of the seat.
"Yes. The least amount of walking makes me hot."
"Well, but how will you be able to stand Africa?"
"Oh, it's a different kind of heat there, I believe. Besides, you don't
have to go about in a black coat, a waistcoat and a starched shirt;
except perhaps at service time on Sundays."
"What a pity black clothes seem to be necessary to holiness!"--(then
seeing a frown settling on his face) "I wonder whether we shall see
anything so beautiful as _this_ out there?"
"As beautiful as what? Oh! The view. Well, I s'pose so. I believe
there are some high mountains and plenty of forest near the place where
I am to live."
"What is its name?"
"Hangodi, I think--something like that. Bayley says it means 'the Place
of Firewood.'"
"Oh, _that_ doesn't sound pretty at all; just as if there were nothing
but dead sticks lying about. I hoped there would be plenty of palms and
those things you see in the pictures of African travel books--with great
broad leaves--plantains? Is it a village?"
"Hangodi? I believe so. I think the chief reason it has been chosen is
its standing high up on a mountain and being near water."
"Oh, John," said Lucy after a minute's silence, "I _do_ look forward to
joining you in Africa. I've always wanted to travel, ever since I won a
geography prize at school. Just think what wonderful things we shall
see. Elephants and lions and tigers. Will there be tigers? Of
_course_ not. I ought to have remembered they're only found in India.
But at any rate there will be beautifully spotted leopards, and lions