Читать книгу Babes in the Darkling Woods - H.G. Wells - Страница 15

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THEY were aware of Mrs Greedle's voice behind them.

"The postman came," she said, "but I thought I wouldn't disturb that nice talk you was 'aving. E's a nice gentleman the vicar. 'Armless and kind. Never forgets to ask after anyone when he sees them. He'll ask three times a day sometimes. Nice 'abits he has...."

Gemini took the letter and examined it. It bore the Bristol postmark. It was addressed in an unfamiliar handwriting to James Twain. Originally it had been addressed to James Twain, Esquire. Then apparently the sender had thought better of the "Esquire" and had scratched it out carefully with a penknife. That was odd. He opened the letter and read it.

"Golly!" he said, and re-read.

He looked at Stella's interrogative face.

"They know," he said compactly.

"How?"

He hesitated and then handed her the letter silently.

She read in a largish sprawling handwriting with various erasures and corrections: "You dirty young Blackguard, it is only now that I have learnt where you are and what you have been up to. Her mother is broken-hearted. What that woman Clarkson can be about, making her cottage into a common"— "convenience" erased, "brothel" substituted, and this again had been changed to "disorderly house." "She ought to be prosecuted. Or does she know? I don't know if you realise the seriousness of your offence. You must know that Stella, poor child, and I have nothing but pity for her, is a minor, under age. Maybe it may not be too late to save her. If not, so much the worse for you. At any rate she must come home at once. What you have done is an indictable offence. I shall come by the first train to-morrow. At considerable inconvenience to myself. I give you fair warning to clear out before I come to fetch her home. I may not be able to keep my hands off you. That's all. Clear out of my way before I get hold of you. Best for all parties. I may see red. Horsewhipping is too good for you, you filthy young hound."

Indecision over signature and what sort of "Yours" it ought to be, and then a bare "Hubert Polydore Hopkinshire."

She read and handed it back to Gemini.

"That," she said, "is Uncle."

Pause for reflection.

"Sounds choleric."

"He was a Black and Tan and he's never got over it."

"I don't like it."

"No," she agreed.

"This," he said, and failed to complete his sentence. He tried again. "It's unreasonable to feel as I do; but this seems suddenly to alter everything. It's a point of view we've been forgetting. It's—as though something had happened to the sky-gone bleak and beastly."

"Yes."

"All that we find lovely, the loveliest thing in the world, he finds disgraceful, disgusting, dirty, criminal."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"It's like some gas being released unexpectedly, a stink-bomb, in Paradise."

Stella was still speechless.

"It's the ugly side of life coming up. Or the real side? But how did he know? How did he come to know?... And your mother?"

"She must have known first and written to him. Or told him. Someone must have told her."

"Where is she?"

"She was staying with the Batiscombes."

"Batiscombes mean nothing to me."

"Cousins at Weston-super-Mare. They keep a sort of hydro and this Uncle Hubert has a riding-school ten or twelve miles away. Somewhere near Clifton."

"A hydropath?"

"Of sorts."

"But anyone may have gone there and let things out. If Mary talked. But she always talks...."

Gemini reconsidered the letter. "He reads perfectly honest. He means every word of this."

"He is perfectly honest. It wouldn't hurt us a bit—if he wasn't perfectly honest. It's just that he does mean it. That's how he and half the world are going to see all this. That's what we're up against, Gemini."

"Why doesn't he go and hoot at Romeo and Juliet?"

"He would, but he's never thought of doing it. No! Come to think of it, they were married, Gemini. Irregularly, but they were married.... And besides the Bible and Shakespeare are above suspicion."

"Curious thing. We'd like the whole world to approve of us, and it's a smack in the face for us when we get it straight that quite a lot of people when they know of our week here won't. They won't. Approve of us! They won't stand us."

"Evidently he won't," said Stella.

"That parson did. That parson had an effect of standing us.

"Yes. I think he did. There was something about him, Gemini.... We attracted him and we frightened him. Of—"

course he knew all about it before he called. He was attracted, he was excited by us and then—we were too frank for him. And he didn't expect we'd cross-examine him as you did. And your philosophy and theology carried him off his feet. How you talked! How was he to know he was running up against the most industrious mugger on the New Spectator staff? That parson put us above ourselves. He was really one of us. Of course you got no admissions out of him. You couldn't expect it. He has made up his mind and he keeps it made up. He has to. What would become of him if he didn't? Where could he go? What could he do? I remember Uncle Robert saying, 'What refuge is there in the world for a common priest or a common parson when his faith falls away from him? None. The less he believes it the more firmly he must cling to it.' It's like that bathing-gown of mine that has lost all its buttons. He daren't leave go for a moment. And the Churches can't leave go. But Uncle Hopkinshire is different. He's the hairy cave-man, all out and himself. No softness about him. He's the natural man. Creeds may come and creeds may go, but Uncle Hopkinshire goes on for ever."

"We've taken on a lot, Stella, in coming here."

"We've taken on more than we realised."

"We have."

"Sorry?"

"No. But what are we going to do?" ,

"Nothing until he comes. Sufficient unto the day is the l evil thereof. We still have hours and hours, Gemini, in this { dear cottage, in this dear garden, before the storm breaks."

"Yes. But—. It's well, as the posters say, to be prepared. I shall stay for him here."

"Obviously."

"And what is the quality of this—this raucous individual?

What does he amount to? You've seen him? You know him? So high is he? Or so high? What do these threats of violence amount to?"

"I've only seen him with what he'd call his womankind. Mother, in fact. He's distinctly anti-feminist. Married his cook and she died. Put him to a lot of trouble—and it seems to have annoyed him. Hard to describe him. Blue-black moustache. Dyed we think. Stocky. Bandyish. Hair on his hands. Still I suppose, Gemini, you can take care of yourself?"

"I'm not so bad if it comes to a scrap. Footwork poor, but I know how to punch if it comes to that. I've got some reach and I've got some weight. If I hit 'em fair, they are apt to go down. That's all right. But is he likely to try anything that may lead to a scuffle? Is he likely to produce something in the nature of a horsewhip? If so, I suppose I shall have to take it away from him. Or try to. I don't see how we can avoid that."

Stella reconsidered the letter. "He probably thinks that you are what he would call a long-haired Bolshie, rather on the weedy side. And that you'll make off at this whiff of virility. I think he hopes that."

"Hopes what?"

"That you'll clear out."

"And if I don't go?"

"Then he'll rant and shout. But if you keep your eye on him, nothing will happen. That's my impression of him. Keep your eye on him and speak to him with a quiet voice. There won't be any horsewhip—where does one buy a horsewhip nowadays? But he'll probably turn up in breeches-he loves riding-breeches when he's about at home—and if so he'll bring a riding-crop to flourish under your nose."

"Very well. And what shall we argue about?"

"Why anticipate?"

"I want to know. That is exactly what I want to know."

"Why spoil the time that is left to us?"

"Yes. When you say that, I want to know more than ever."

She reflected, arms akimbo. "Let's walk up the lane a bit. I can feel Mother Greedle at the kitchen window listening with all her eyes."

They walked a hundred feet in silence.

"Uncle Hopkinshire," said Stella, "is coming to take me back to my mother, who has probably been weeping.... Never mind about my mother.... What else can I do? I shall have to go back."

"Stella, I want to keep you."

"We said ten happy days."

"But now it's different."

"We jumped into this, Gemini. Don't let's put it too high and mighty. If we hadn't had the chance of Mary Clarkson's cottage and that—that—well how you kissed me after the Winchcombe's dance, and your saying 'Oh Hell! this is just half and half.' "

"And I could get a fortnight off and you managed to vanish.... You must have told your mother some fibs, Stella! I never thought of that."

"One fib, Gemini. Just one little one. Hardly a fib. I'm sorry. You see.... I pronounced your name Jemima. As the parson would put it, that makes it a misunderstanding rather than a deception...."

"Somebody who knows about Mary Clarkson," he considered. "Or Mary herself talking to astonish and appall. As she does at times. Or someone who saw a chance of making mischief.... And so, what are we going to do?"

"As I say. What else is there to do? We've had a lovely time. And now it is almost over."

"I can't drop it like that. I can't give you up. I feel as if I'd hardly tasted you. Damnation, Stella, let's get married?"

"We agreed we didn't believe in marriage. At least we agreed before we came. And also who's going to let us? My mother can say No. She—for some reason—has a horror of sex. Your—father.... ?"

"He thinks I ought to wait until I'm five and thirty and then marry money. But with us—now?"

"I still don't believe in marriage. I don't know. I don't. Even if I did, I'm a minor. Not for a whole year and a half can we do that. They'll say wait, wait, and wait. Nineteen long months! We've been into all that. Wait while the world has fallen to pieces altogether. They can spoil it for us, all that time, and from what I know of Uncle Hubert and Mother, I they'll make things as nasty as they can."

"Let's bolt to France."

"Chucking your work, stopping mine? What could one do in France?"

"Aren't we lovers?"

She made no answer.

"Do you really want this separation, this surrender?"

"Gemini, darling, I'm in love with you so much, and I'm in love with love so much, that I can hardly reason about it. I've just had one little week of love. I'm being calm and collected because otherwise I might scream and throw myself about. I did count on ten days. Three days less! It's a damned shame. All the same I know that we have to part to-morrow. I won't face it now. I won't think about it until to-morrow comes. Gemini, we still have two—thirds of a day and night."

"Yes," he said, "but—"

Pause for consideration.