Marcella Page 4

  CHAPTER IV.

  "How kind of you!" said the rector's sister, enthusiastically; "but Ithought you would come and help us."

  And as Marcella took some of her burdens from her, Miss Harden kissedMarcella's cheek with a sort of timid eagerness. She had fallen in lovewith Miss Boyce from the beginning, was now just advanced to thisprivilege of kissing, and being entirely convinced that her new friendpossessed all virtues and all knowledge, found it not difficult to holdthat she had been divinely sent to sustain her brother and herself inthe disheartening task of civilising Mellor. Mary Harden was naturally ashort, roundly made girl, neither pretty nor plain, with grey-blue eyes,a shy manner, and a heart all goodness. Her brother was like untoher--also short, round, and full-faced, with the same attractive eyes.Both were singularly young in aspect--a boy and girl pair. Both had theworn, pinched look which Mrs. Boyce complained of, and which, indeed,went oddly with their whole physique. It was as though creatures builtfor a normal life of easy give and take with their fellows had fallenupon some unfitting and jarring experience. One striking difference,indeed, there was between them, for amid the brother's timidity andsweetness there lay, clearly to be felt and seen, the consciousness ofthe priest--nascent and immature, but already urging and characteristic.

  Only one face of the three showed any other emotion than quick pleasureat the sight of Marcella Boyce. Aldous Raeburn was clearly embarrassedthereby. Indeed, as he laid down his gun outside the low churchyardwall, while Marcella and the Hardens were greeting, that generallyself-possessed though modest person was conscious of a quite disablingperturbation of mind. Why in the name of all good manners and decencyhad he allowed himself to be discovered in shooting trim, on thatparticular morning, by Mr. Boyce's daughter on her father's land, andwithin a stone's throw of her father's house? Was he not perfectly wellaware of the curt note which his grandfather had that morning despatchedto the new owner of Mellor? Had he not ineffectually tried to delayexecution the night before, thereby puzzling and half-offending hisgrandfather? Had not the incident weighed on him ever since, wounding anadmiration and sympathy which seemed to have stolen upon him in thedark, during these few weeks since he had made Miss Boyce'sacquaintance, so strong and startling did he all in a moment feel themto be?

  And then to intrude upon her thus, out of nothing apparently but sheermoth-like incapacity to keep away! The church footpath indeed was publicproperty, and Miss Harden's burdens had cried aloud to any passing maleto help her. But why in this neighbourhood at all?--why not rather onthe other side of the county? He could have scourged himself on thespot for an unpardonable breach of manners and feeling.

  However, Miss Boyce certainly made no sign. She received him without any_empressement_, but also without the smallest symptom of offence. Theyall moved into the church together, Mr. Raeburn carrying a vast bundleof ivy and fern, the rector and his sister laden with closely-packedbaskets of cut flowers. Everything was laid down on the chancel stepsbeside Marcella's contribution, and then the Hardens began to plan outoperations. Miss Harden ran over on her fingers the contributions whichhad been sent in to the rectory, or were presently coming over to thechurch in a hand-cart. "Lord Maxwell has sent the most _beautiful_ potsfor the chancel," she said, with a grateful look at young Raeburn. "Itwill be quite a show." To which the young rector assented warmly. It wasvery good, indeed, of Lord Maxwell to remember them always so liberallyat times like these, when they had so little direct claim upon him. Theywere not his church or his parish, but he never forgot them all thesame, and Mellor was grateful. The rector had all his sister's gentleeffusiveness, but a professional dignity besides, even in his thanks,which made itself felt.

  Marcella flushed as he was speaking.

  "I went to see what I could get in the way of greenhouse things," shesaid in a sudden proud voice. "But we have nothing. There are thehouses, but there is nothing in them. But you shall have all ourout-of-door flowers, and I think a good deal might be done with autumnleaves and wild things if you will let me try."

  A speech, which brought a flush to Mr. Raeburn's cheek as he stood inthe background, and led Mary Harden into an eager asking of Marcella'scounsels, and an eager praising of her flowers.

  Aldous Raeburn said nothing, but his discomfort increased with everymoment. Why had his grandfather been so officious in this matter of theflowers? All very well when Mellor was empty, or in the days of a miserand eccentric, without womankind, like Robert Boyce. But now--the actbegan to seem to him offensive, a fresh affront offered to anunprotected girl, whose quivering sensitive look as she stood talking tothe Hardens touched him profoundly. Mellor church might almost beregarded as the Boyces' private chapel, so bound up was it with thefamily and the house. He realised painfully that he ought to begone--yet could not tear himself away. Her passionate willingness tospend herself for the place and people she had made her own at firstsight, checked every now and then by a proud and sore reserve--it wastoo pretty, too sad. It stung and spurred him as he watched her; onemoment his foot moved for departure, the next he was resolving thatsomehow or other he must make speech with her--excuse--explain.Ridiculous! How was it possible that he should do either!

  He had met her--perhaps had tried to meet her--tolerably often sincetheir first chance encounter weeks ago in the vicarage drawing-room. Allthrough there had been on his side the uncomfortable knowledge of hisgrandfather's antipathy to Richard Boyce, and of the social steps towhich that antipathy would inevitably lead. But Miss Boyce had nevershown the smallest consciousness, so far, of anything untoward orunusual in her position. She had been clearly taken up with the interestand pleasure of this new spectacle upon which she had entered. The oldhouse, its associations, its history, the beautiful country in which itlay, the speech and characteristics of rural labour as compared withthat of the town,--he had heard her talk of all these things with afreshness, a human sympathy, a freedom from conventional phrase, and, nodoubt, a touch of egotism and extravagance, which rivetted attention.The egotism and extravagance, however, after a first moment of criticaldiscomfort on his part, had not in the end repelled him at all. Thegirl's vivid beauty glorified them; made them seem to him a mere specialfulness of life. So that in his new preoccupation with herself, and bycontact with her frank self-confidence, he had almost forgotten herposition, and his own indirect relation to it. Then had come thatunlucky note from Mellor; his grandfather's prompt reply to it; his ownineffective protest; and now this tongue-tiedness--this clumsyintrusion--which she must feel to be an indelicacy--an outrage.

  Suddenly he heard Miss Harden saying, with penitent emphasis, "I _am_stupid! I have left the scissors and the wire on the table at home; wecan't get on without them; it is really too bad of me."

  "I will go for them," said Marcella promptly. "Here is the hand-cartjust arrived and some people come to help; you can't be spared. I willbe back directly."

  And, gathering up her black skirt in a slim white hand, she sped downthe church, and was out of the south door before the Hardens had time toprotest, or Aldous Raeburn understood what she was doing.

  A vexed word from Miss Harden enlightened him, and he went after thefugitive, overtaking her just where his gun and dog lay, outside thechurchyard.

  "Let me go, Miss Boyce," he said, as he caught her up. "My dog and Iwill run there and back."

  But Marcella hardly looked at him, or paused.

  "Oh no!" she said quickly, "I should like the walk."

  He hesitated; then, with a flush which altered his usually quiet,self-contained expression, he moved on beside her.

  "Allow me to go with you then. You are sure to find fresh loads to bringback. If it's like our harvest festival, the things keep dropping in allday."

  Marcella's eyes were still on the ground.

  "I thought you were on your way to shoot, Mr. Raeburn?"

  "So I was, but there is no hurry; if I can be useful. Both the birds andthe keeper can wait."

  "Where are you going?"

  "To some outlying
fields of ours on the Windmill Hill. There is a tenantthere who wants to see me. He is a prosy person with a host ofgrievances. I took my gun as a possible means of escape from him."

  "Windmill Hill? I know the name. Oh! I remember: it was there--my fatherhas just been telling me--that your father and he shot the pair ofkestrels, when they were boys together."

  Her tone was quite light, but somehow it had an accent, an emphasis,which made Aldous Raeburn supremely uncomfortable. In his disquiet, hethought of various things to say; but he was not ready, nor naturallyeffusive; the turn of them did not please him; and he remained silent.

  Meantime Marcella's heart was beating fast. She was meditating a _coup_.

  "Mr. Raeburn!"

  "Yes!"

  "Will you think me a very extraordinary person if I ask you a question?Your father and mine were great friends, weren't they, as boys?--yourfamily and mine were friends, altogether?"

  "I believe so--I have always heard so," said her companion, flushingstill redder.

  "You knew Uncle Robert--Lord Maxwell did?"

  "Yes--as much as anybody knew him--but--"

  "Oh, I know: he shut himself up and hated his neighbours. Still you knewhim, and papa and your father were boys together. Well then, if youwon't mind telling me--I know it's bold to ask, but I have reasons--whydoes Lord Maxwell write to papa in the third person, and why has youraunt, Miss Raeburn, never found time in all these weeks to call onmamma?"

  She turned and faced him, her splendid eyes one challenge. The glow andfire of the whole gesture--the daring of it, and yet the suggestion ofwomanish weakness in the hand which trembled against her dress and inthe twitching lip--if it had been fine acting, it could not have beenmore complete. And, in a sense, acting there was in it. Marcella'semotions were real, but her mind seldom deserted her. One half of herwas impulsive and passionate; the other half looked on and put infinishing touches.

  Acting or no, the surprise of her outburst swept the man beside her offhis feet. He found himself floundering in a sea of excuses--not for hisrelations, but for himself. He ought never to have intruded; it wasodious, unpardonable; he had no business whatever to put himself in herway! Would she please understand that it was an accident? It should nothappen again. He quite understood that she could not regard him withfriendliness. And so on. He had never so lost his self-possession.

  Meanwhile Marcella's brows contracted. She took his excuses as a freshoffence.

  "You mean, I suppose, that I have no right to ask such questions!" shecried; "that I am not behaving like a lady--as one of your relationswould? Well, I dare say! I was not brought up like that. I was notbrought up at all; I have had to make myself. So you must avoid me ifyou like. Of course you will. But I resolved there--in the church--thatI would make just one effort, before everything crystallises, to breakthrough. If we must live on here hating our neighbours and being cut bythem, I thought I would just ask you why, first. There is no one else toask. Hardly anybody has called, except the Hardens, and a few new peoplethat don't matter. And _I_ have nothing to be ashamed of," said the girlpassionately, "nor has mamma. Papa, I suppose, did some bad things longago. I have never known--I don't know now--what they were. But I shouldlike to understand. Is everybody going to cut us because of that?"

  With a great effort Aldous Raeburn pulled himself together, certain fineinstincts both of race and conduct coming to his help. He met herexcited look by one which had both dignity and friendliness.

  "I will tell you what I can, Miss Boyce. If you ask me, it is right Ishould. You must forgive me if I say anything that hurts you. I will trynot--I will try not!" he repeated earnestly. "In the first place, I knowhardly anything in detail. I do not remember that I have ever wished toknow. But I gather that some years ago--when I was still alad--something in Mr. Boyce's life--some financial matters, Ibelieve--during the time that he was member of Parliament, made ascandal, and especially among his family and old friends. It was theeffect upon his old father, I think, who, as you know, died soonafterwards--"

  Marcella started.

  "I didn't know," she said quickly.

  Aldous Raeburn's distress grew.

  "I really oughtn't to speak of these things," he said, "for I don't knowthem accurately. But I want to answer what you said--I do indeed. It wasthat, I think, chiefly. Everybody here respected and loved yourgrandfather--my grandfather did--and there was great feeling for him--"

  "I see! I see!" said Marcella, her chest heaving; "and against papa."

  She walked on quickly, hardly seeing where she was going, her eyes dimwith tears. There was a wretched pause. Then Aldous Raeburn broke out--

  "But after all it is very long ago. And there may have been some harshjudgment. My grandfather may have been misinformed as to some of thefacts. And I--"

  He hesitated, struck with the awkwardness of what he was going to say.But Marcella understood him.

  "And you will try and make him alter his mind?" she said, notungratefully, but still with a touch of sarcasm in her tone. "No, Mr.Raeburn, I don't think that will succeed."

  They walked on in silence for a little while. At last he said, turningupon her a face in which she could not but see the true feeling of ajust and kindly man--

  "I meant that if my grandfather could be led to express himself in a waywhich Mr. Boyce could accept, even if there were no great friendship asthere used to be, there might be something better than this--this,which--which--is so painful. And any way, Miss Boyce, whatever happens,will you let me say this once, that there is no word, no feeling in thisneighbourhood--how could there be?--towards you and your mother, but oneof respect and admiration? Do believe that, even if you feel that youcan never be friendly towards me and mine again--or forget the things Ihave said!"

  "Respect and admiration!" said Marcella, wondering, and still scornful."Pity, perhaps. There might be that. But any way mamma goes with papa.She always has done. She always will. So shall I, of course. But I amsorry--_horribly_ sore and sorry! I was so delighted to come here. Ihave been very little at home, and understood hardly anything aboutthis worry--not how serious it was, nor what it meant. Oh! I _am_sorry--there was so much I wanted to do here--if anybody could onlyunderstand what it means to me to come to this place!"

  They had reached the brow of a little rising ground. Just below them,beyond a stubble field in which there were a few bent forms of gleaners,lay the small scattered Tillage, hardly seen amid its trees, the curlsof its blue smoke ascending steadily on this calm September morningagainst a great belt of distant beechwood which begirt the hamlet andthe common along which it lay. The stubble field was a feast of shadeand tint, of apricots and golds shot with the subtlest purples andbrowns; the flame of the wild-cherry leaf and the deeper crimson of thehaws made every hedge a wonder; the apples gleamed in the cottagegarden; and a cloudless sun poured down on field and hedge, and on thehalf-hidden medley of tiled roofs, sharp gables, and jutting dormerswhich made the village.

  Instinctively both stopped. Marcella locked her hands behind her in agesture familiar to her in moments of excitement; the light wind blewback her dress in soft, eddying folds; for the moment, in her tallgrace, she had the air of some young Victory poised upon a height, tillyou looked at her face, which was, indeed, not exultant at all, buttragic, extravagantly tragic, as Aldous Raeburn, in his English reserve,would perhaps have thought in the case of any woman with tamer eyes anda less winning mouth.

  "I don't want to talk about myself," she began. "But you know, Mr.Raeburn--you must know--what a state of things there is here--you knowwhat a _disgrace_ that village is. Oh! one reads books, but I neverthought people could actually _live_ like that--here in the widecountry, with room for all. It makes me lie awake at night. We are notrich--we are very poor--the house is all out of repair, and the estate,as of course you know, is in a wretched condition. But when I see thesecottages, and the water, and the children, I ask what right we have toanything we get. I had some friends in London who were Socialists, and Ifollowed a
nd agreed with them, but here one _sees_! Yes, indeed!--it_is_ too great a risk to let the individual alone when all these livesdepend upon him. Uncle Robert was an eccentric and a miser; and look atthe death-rate of the village--look at the children; you can see how ithas crushed the Hardens already. No, we have no right to it!--it oughtto be taken from us; some day it will be taken from us!"

  Aldous Raeburn smiled, and was himself again. A woman's speculationswere easier to deal with than a woman's distress.

  "It is not so hopeless as that, I think," he said kindly. "The Mellorcottages are in a bad state certainly. But you have no idea how soon alittle energy and money and thought sets things to rights."

  "But we have no money!" cried Marcella. "And if he is miserable here, myfather will have no energy to do anything. He will not care whathappens. He will defy everybody, and just spend what he has on himself.And it will make me wretched--_wretched_. Look at that cottage to theright, Mr. Raeburn. It is Jim Hurd's--a man who works mainly on theChurch Farm, when he is in work. But he is deformed, and not so strongas others. The farmers too seem to be cutting down labour everywhere--ofcourse I don't understand--I am so new to it. Hurd and his family had an_awful_ winter, last winter--hardly kept body and soul together. And nowhe is out of work already--the man at the Church Farm turned him offdirectly after harvest. He sees no prospect of getting work by thewinter. He spends his days tramping to look for it; but nothing turnsup. Last winter they parted with all they could sell. This winter itmust be the workhouse! It's _heart-breaking_. And he has a mind; he can_feel_! I lend him the Labour paper I take in, and get him to talk. Hehas more education than most, and oh! the _bitterness_ at the bottom ofhim. But not against persons--individuals. It is like a sort of blindpatience when you come to that--they make excuses even for Uncle Robert,to whom they have paid rent all these years for a cottage which is acrime--yes, a _crime_! The woman must have been such a prettycreature--and refined too. She is consumptive, of course--what elsecould you expect with that cottage and that food? So is the eldestboy--a little white atomy! And the other children. Talk of London--Inever saw such sickly objects as there are in this village. Twelveshillings a week, and work about half the year! Oh! they _ought_ to hateus!--I try to make them," cried Marcella, her eyes gleaming. "They oughtto hate all of us landowners, and the whole wicked system. It keeps themfrom the land which they ought to be sharing with us; it makes one manmaster, instead of all men brothers. And who is fit to be master? Whichof us? Everybody is so ready to take the charge of other people's lives,and then look at the result!"

  "Well, the result, even in rural England, is not always so bad," saidAldous Raeburn, smiling a little, but more coldly. Marcella, glancing athim, understood in a moment that she had roused a certain family andclass pride in him--a pride which was not going to assert itself, butnone the less implied the sudden opening of a gulf between herself andhim. In an instant her quick imagination realised herself as thedaughter and niece of two discredited members of a great class. When sheattacked the class, or the system, the man beside her--any man insimilar circumstances--must naturally think: "Ah, well, poor girl--DickBoyce's daughter--what can you expect?" Whereas--Aldous Raeburn!--shethought of the dignity of the Maxwell name, of the width of the Maxwellpossessions, balanced only by the high reputation of the family forhonourable, just and Christian living, whether as amongst themselves ortowards their neighbours and dependents. A shiver of passionate vanity,wrath, and longing passed through her as her tall frame stiffened.

  "There are model squires, of course," she said slowly, striving at leastfor a personal dignity which should match his. "There are plenty oflandowners who do their duty as they understand it--no one denies that.But that does not affect the system; the grandson of the best man may bethe worst, but his one-man power remains the same. No! the time has comefor a wider basis. Paternal government and charity were very well intheir way--democratic self-government will manage to do without them!"

  She flung him a gay, quivering, defiant look. It delighted her to pitthese wide and threatening generalisations against the Maxwell power--toshow the heir of it that she at least--father or no father--was nohereditary subject of his, and bound to no blind admiration of theMaxwell methods and position.

  Aldous Raeburn took her onslaught very calmly, smiling frankly back ather indeed all the time. Miss Boyce's opinions could hardly matter tohim intellectually, whatever charm and stimulus he might find in hertalk. This subject of the duties, rights, and prospects of his classwent, as it happened, very deep with him--too deep for chancediscussion. What she said, if he ever stopped to think of it in itself,seemed to him a compound of elements derived partly from her personalhistory, partly from the random opinions that young people of a generoustype pick up from newspapers and magazines. She had touched his familypride for an instant; but only for an instant. What he was abidinglyconscious of, was of a beautiful wild creature struggling withdifficulties in which he was somehow himself concerned, and out ofwhich, in some way or other, he was becoming more and moredetermined--absurdly determined--to help her.

  "Oh! no doubt the world will do very well without us some day," he saidlightly, in answer to her tirade; "no one is indispensable. But are youso sure, Miss Boyce, you believe in your own creed? I thought I hadobserved--pardon me for saying it--on the two or three occasions we havemet, some degenerate signs of individualism? You take pleasure in theold place, you say; you were delighted to come and live where yourancestors lived before you; you are full of desires to pull these poorpeople out of the mire in your own way. No! I don't feel that you arethorough-going!"

  Marcella paused a frowning moment, then broke suddenly into a delightfullaugh--a laugh of humorous confession, which changed her whole look andmood.

  "Is that all you have noticed? If you wish to know, Mr. Raeburn, I lovethe labourers for touching their hats to me. I love the school childrenfor bobbing to me. I love my very self--ridiculous as _you_ may thinkit--for being Miss Boyce of Mellor!"

  "Don't say things like that, please!" he interrupted; "I think I havenot deserved them."

  His tone made her repent her gibe. "No, indeed, you have been most kindto me," she cried. "I don't know how it is. I am bitter and personal ina moment--when I don't mean to be. Yes! you are quite right. I am proudof it all. If nobody comes to see us, and we are left all alone out inthe cold, I shall still have room enough to be proud in--proud of theold house and our few bits of pictures, and the family papers, and thebeeches! How absurd it would seem to other people, who have so muchmore! But I have had so little--so _little_!" Her voice had a hungrylingering note. "And as for the people, yes, I am proud too that theylike me, and that already I can influence them. Oh, I will do my bestfor them, my _very best_! But it will be hard, very hard, if there isno one to help me!"

  She heaved a long sigh. In spite of the words, what she had said did notseem to be an appeal for his pity. Rather there was in it a sweetself-dedicating note as of one going sadly alone to a painful task, anote which once more left Aldous Raeburn's self-restraint tottering. Shewas walking gently beside him, her pretty dress trailing lightly overthe dry stubble, her hand in its white ruffles hanging so close besidehim--after all her prophetess airs a pensive womanly thing, that mustsurely hear how his strong man's heart was beginning to beat!

  He bent over to her.

  "Don't talk of there being no one to help! There may be many ways out ofpresent difficulties. Meanwhile, however things go, could you belarge-minded enough to count one person here your friend?"

  She looked up at him. Tall as she was, he was taller--she liked that;she liked too the quiet cautious strength of his English expression andbearing. She did not think him handsome, and she was conscious of nothrill. But inwardly her quick dramatising imagination was alreadyconstructing her own future and his. The ambition to rule leapt in her,and the delight in conquest. It was with a delicious sense of her ownpower, and of the general fulness of her new life, that she said, "I_am_ large-minded enough! You have b
een very kind, and I have been verywild and indiscreet. But I don't regret: I am sure, if you can help me,you will."

  There was a little pause. They were standing at the last gate beforethe miry village road began, and almost in sight of the little vicarage.Aldous Raeburn, with his hand on the gate, suddenly gathered a spray oftravellers'-joy out of the hedge beside him.

  "That was a promise, I think, and I keep the pledge of it," he said, andwith a smile put the cluster of white seed-tufts and green leaves intoone of the pockets of his shooting jacket.

  "Oh, don't tie me down!" said Marcella, laughing, but flushing also."And don't you think, Mr. Raeburn, that you might open that gate? Atleast, we can't get the scissors and the wire unless you do."