JOAN HASTE by H. RIDER HAGGARD (e reader comics TXT) 📕

moved him. Perhaps it was her tenderness--a tenderness apparent in every word and gesture; or more probably it may have been the atmosphere of love that surrounded her, of love directed towards himself, which gradually conquered him mind and body, and broke down the barrier of his self-control. Hitherto Henry had never cared for any woman, and if women had cared for him he had not understood it. Now he was weak and he was worried, and in his way he also was rebellious, and fighting against a marriage that men and circumstances combined to thrust upon him. Under such conditions it was not perhaps unnatural that he should shrink back from the strict path of interest, and follow that of a spontaneous affection. Joan had taken his fancy from the first moment that he saw her, she had won his gratitude by her bravery and her gentle devotion, and she was a young and beautiful woman. Making some slight allowances for the frailties of human nature, perhaps we need not seek for any further explanation of his future conduct.

For a week or more nothing of importance occurred between them. Indeed, they were very seldom alone together, for whenever Joan's duty took her to the sick room Mrs. Gillingwater, whom Henry detested, made a point of being present, or did she chance to be called away, his sister Ellen would be certain to appear to take her place, accompanied at times by Edward Milward.

At length, on a certain afternoon, Mrs. Gillingwater ordered Joan to go out walking. Joan did not wish to go out, for the weather threatened rain, also for her own reasons she preferred to remain where she was. But her aunt was peremptory, and Joan started, setting her face towards Ramborough Abbey. Very soon it came on to rain and she had no umbrella, but this accident did not deter her. She had been sent out to walk, and walk she would. To tell the truth, she was thinking little of the weather, for her mind was filled with resentment against her aunt. It was unbearable that she should be interfered with and ordered about like a child. There were a hundred things that she wished to do in the house. Who would give Captain Graves his tea? And she was sure that he would never remember about the medicine unless she was there to remind him.

As Joan proceeded on her walk along the edge of the cliff, she noticed the figure of a man, standing about a quarter of a mile to her right on the crest or hog's back of land, beyond which lay the chain of melancholy meres, and wondered vaguely what he could be doing there in such weather. At length it occurred to her that it was time to return, for now she was near to Ramborough Abbey. She was weary of the sight of the sea, that moaned sullenly beneath her, half hidden by the curtain of the rain; so she struck across the ridge of land, heedless of the wet saline grasses that swept against her skirt, purposing to walk home by the little sheep-track which follows the edge of the meres in the valley. As she was crossing the highest point of the ridge she saw the man's figure again. Suddenly it disappeared, and the thought struck her that he might have been following her, keeping parallel to her path. For a moment Joan hesitated, for the country here was very lonely, especially in such weather; but the next she dismissed her fears, being courageous by nature, and passed on towards the first mere. Doubtless this person was a shepherd looking for a lost sheep, or perhaps a gamekeeper.

The aspect of the lakes was so dreary, and the path so sopping wet, that soon Joan began to wish that she had remained upon the cliff. However, she trudged on bravely, the rain beating in her face till her thin dress was soaked and clung to her shape in a manner that was picturesque but uncomfortable. At the head of the second mere the sheep-walk ran past some clumps of high reeds; and as she approached them Joan, whose eye for natural objects was quick, observed that something had disturbed the wild fowl which haunted the place, for a heron and a mallard rose and circled high in the air, and a brace of curlew zigzagged away against the wind, uttering plaintive cries that reached her for long after they vanished into the mist. Now she had come to the first clump of reeds, when she heard a stir behind them, and a man stepped forward and stood in the middle of the path within three paces of her.

The man was Samuel Rock, clad in a long cloak; and, recognising him, Joan understood that she had been waylaid. She halted and said angrily--for her first feeling was one of indignation:

"What are you doing here, Mr. Rock?"

"Walking, Miss Haste," he answered nervously; "the same as you."

"That is not true, Mr. Rock: you were hiding behind those reeds."

"I took shelter there against the rain."

"I see; you took shelter from the rain, and on the weather side of the reeds," she said contemptuously. "Well, do not let me keep you standing in this wet." And she attempted to pass him.

"It is no use telling you lies," he muttered sullenly: "I came here to speak to you, where there ain't none to disturb us." And as he spoke Samuel Rock placed himself in such a position that it was impossible for her to escape him without actually breaking into a run.

"Why do you follow me," she said in an indignant voice--"after what you promised, too? Stand aside and let me go home."

Samuel made no move, but a curious light came into his blue eyes, a light that was not pleasant to see.

"I am thinking I've stood aside enough, Joan," he answered, "and I ain't a-going to stand aside till all the mischief is done and I am ruined. As for promises, they may go hang: I can't keep no more of them. So please, /you'll/ just stand for once, and listen to what I have to say to you. If you are wet you can take my cloak. I don't mind the rain, and I seem to want some cooling."

"I'd rather drown than touch anything that belongs to you," she replied, for her hatred of the man mastered her courtesy and reason. "Say what you've got to say and let me go on."

The remark was an unfortunate one, for it awoke in Samuel's breast the fury that accompanied and underlay his passion, that fury which had astonished Mr. Levinger.

"Would you, now!" he broke out, his lips turning white with rage. "Well, if half I hear is true, there's others whose things you don't mind touching."

"What do you mean, Mr. Rock?"

"I mean that Captain whom you're not ashamed to be hanging after all day long. Oh, I know about you. I heard how you were found holding him in your arms, the first day that you met him by the tower yonder, after you'd been flirting with him like any street girl, till you brought him to break his leg. Yes, holding him in those arms of yours--nothing less."

"Oh! how dare you! How dare you!" she murmured, for no other words would come to her.

"Dare? I dare anything. You've worked me up to that, my beauty. Now I dare ask you when you'll let me make an honest woman of you, if it isn't too late."

By this time Joan was positively speechless, so great were the rage and loathing with which this man and his words filled her.

"Oh! Joan," he went on, with a sudden change of tone, "do you forgive me if I have said sharp things, for it's you that drives me to them with your cruelty; and I'm ready to forgive you all yours--ay! I'd bear to hear them again, for you look so beautiful when you are like that."

"Forgive you!" gasped Joan.

But he did not seem to hear. "Let's have done with this cat-and-dog quarrelling," he went on; "let's make it up and get married, the sooner the better--to-morrow if you like. You will never regret it; you'll be happier then than with that Captain who loves Miss Levinger, not you; and I, I shall be happy too--happy, happy!" And he flung his arms wide, in a kind of ecstasy.

Of all this speech only one sentence seemed to reach Joan's understanding at any rate at the time: "who loves Miss Levinger, not you." Oh! was it true? Did Captain Graves really love Miss Levinger as she knew that Emma loved him? The man spoke certainly, as though he had knowledge. Even in the midst of her unspeakable anger, the thought pierced her like a spear and caused her face to soften and her eyes to grow troubled.

Samuel saw these signs, and misinterpreted them, thinking that her resentment was yielding beneath his entreaties. For a moment he stood searching his mind for more words, but unable to find them; then suddenly he sought to clinch the matter in another fashion, for, following the promptings of an instinct that was natural enough under the circumstances, however ill-advised it might be, suddenly he caught Joan in his long arms, and drawing her to him, kissed her twice passionately upon the face. At first Joan scarcely seemed to understand what had happened--indeed, it was not until Samuel, encouraged by his success, was about to renew his embraces that she awoke to the situation. Then her action was prompt enough. She was a strong woman, and the emergency doubled her strength. With a quick twisting movement of her form and a push of her hands, she shook off Samuel so effectively, that in staggering back his foot slipped in the greasy soil and he fell upon his side, clutching in his hand a broad fragment from the bosom of Joan's dress, at which he had caught to save himself.

"Now," she said, as Samuel rose slowly from the mire, "listen to me. You have had your say, and I will have mine. First understand this: if ever you try to kiss me again it will be the worse for you; for your own sake I advise you not, for I think that I should kill you if I could. I hate you, Samuel Rock, for you have lied to me, and you have insulted me in a way that no woman can forgive. I will never marry you--I had rather beg my bread; so if you are wise, you will forget all about me, or at the least keep out of my way."

Samuel faced the beautiful woman, who, notwithstanding her torn and draggled dress, looked royal in her scorn and anger. He was very white, but his passion seemed to have left him, and he spoke in a quiet voice.

"Don't be afraid," he said; "I'm not going to try and kiss you again. I have kissed you twice; that is enough for me at present. And what's more, though you may rub your face, you can't rub it out of your mind. But you are wrong when you say that you won't marry me, because you will. I know it. And the first time I kiss you after we are married, I will remind you of this, Joan Haste. I am not going to ask you to have me again. I shall wait till you ask me to take you, and then I shall be revenged upon you. That day will come, the day of your shame and need, the day of my reward, when, as I have lain in the dirt before you, you will lie in the dirt before me. That is all I have to say. Good-bye." And he walked past her, vanishing behind the reeds.

Now it was for the first time that Joan felt afraid. The insult and danger had gone by, yet