Harvest by Mrs. Humphry Ward (most read books in the world of all time txt) 📕

in the village or anywhere. Come up and see me--at the farm--and I'll tell you why I dislike being mixed up with that woman--why, in fact, I should mind it dreadfully. I can't explain now, but--"

The young man was fairly dazzled by the beauty of the sudden flush on her pale cheeks, of her large pleading eyes, her soft voice. And this--as old Betts had only that afternoon told him--was the lady engaged to his own superior officer, Captain Ellesborough, the Commandant of Ralstone Camp, whom he heartily admired, and stood in considerable awe of! His vanity, of which he possessed so large a share, was much tickled; but, also, his feelings were touched.

"Why, of course, ma'am, won't say anything. I didn't mean any harm."

"All right," said Rachel, scrambling back to her seat. "If you like to come up to-morrow morning, I shall be pleased to see you. It's a bargain, mind!"

He saluted, smiling. She nodded to him, and drove off.

"Well, that's the rummiest go!" said the bewildered Dempsey to himself, as he walked towards his bicycle. "Mistake be damned! She _was_ Mrs. Delane, and what's she up to now with my captain? And what the deuce was she doing at Tanner's?"

Never did a person feel himself more vastly important than Dempsey as he bicycled back to the Ralstone camp, whence he had started in the morning, after the peace news, to go and see a cousin living some distance beyond Great End Farm. To be his grandfather's grandson was much--but _this_!

Rachel drove, with hands unconscious of the reins, along the road and up the farm lane leading through her own fields. The world swam around her in the mist, but there, still in front of her, lay the illuminated farm, a house of light standing in air. As she neared it, the front door opened and sounds of singing and laughter came out.

The "Marseillaise"! _Allons, enfants de la patrie!_--Janet was playing it, singing vigorously herself, and trying to teach the two girls the French words, a performance which broke down every other minute in helpless laughter from all three. Meanwhile, Hastings, who had been standing behind the singers, his hands in his pockets, a rare and shamefaced pleasure shining from his care-worn face, thought he heard the cart, and looked out. Yes, it was the Missis, as he liked to call Miss Henderson, and he ran down to meet her.

"Well, I suppose there were fine doings at Millsborough, Miss," he said, as he held the horse for her to get down.

"Yes--there were a lot of people. It was very noisy."

"We thought you'd hear our noise, Miss, as far as the road! Miss Leighton, she's been keeping us all alive. She took the girls to church--to the Thanksgiving Service, while I looked after things."

"All right, Hastings," said Miss Henderson, in a voice that struck his ear strangely. "Thank you. Will you take the cart?"

He thought as he led the horse away, "She's been overdoin' it again. The Cap'n will tell her so."

Rachel climbed the little slope to the front door. It seemed an Alp. Presently she stood on the threshold of the sitting-room, in her thick fur coat, looking at the group round the piano. Janet glanced round, laughing. "Come and join in!" And they all struck up "God Save the King"--a comely group in the lamplight, Jenny and Betty lifting their voices lustily. But they seemed to Rachel to be playing some silly game which she did not understand. She closed the door and went upstairs to her own room. It was cold and dark. She lit a candle, and her own face, transformed, looked at her from the glass on the dressing-table. She gave a weary, half-reflective sigh. "Shall I be like that when I'm old?"

She took off her things, and changed mechanically into an afternoon dress, her mind, like a hunted thing, running hither and thither all the time.

Presently she got up and locked the door. She must think--_think_--by herself.

It would be quite easy to defy Roger--quite easy to lie, and lie successfully, if only she was sure of herself, and her own will to carry things through. Roger could prove nothing--or that vulgar boy--or anybody. She had only to say, "I went to find Lucy Tanner, who was my friend--she wasn't there--I was overtaken by the storm--and Dick Tanner looked after me till I could get home."

It was the most natural--the most plausible story. If Delane forced himself on George with any vile tale, Ellesborough would probably give him in charge for molesting his former wife. There was absolutely nothing to fear, if she handled the thing in a bold, common-sense way, and told a consistent and clever lie.

And yet, she had weakly made appointments with both her tormentors!--made it plain to them that she was afraid! She called herself a coward, and a fool--and then as she leant her head against the side of her bed, the tears ran down her face, and her heart cried out for Ellesborough.

"How _can_ I go on lying to him--now--and all my life?" It was the same cry as before, but more intense, more passionate with every day's living. The need for lying had now doubled; yet her will could less and less steel itself to it, because of sheer love and remorse towards the man who loved her.

"He would forgive me. I know he would--I know he would!" she kept on murmuring to herself, while her eyes rained in the semi-darkness.

Yes, but it would change everything! Their love--his feeling towards her--could never be the same again. After Roger Delane--Dick Tanner. Why not another--and another? Would he not always be watching her, dreading some new discovery! Suspecting her, even while he loved her?

No. She must choke off Delane--with money--the only way. And invent some story--some bribe, too--for that odious young man who had caught her unawares.

So again she hardened herself, despairingly. It could not be allowed her--the balm and luxury of confession! It was too dangerous. Her all was in it.

Meanwhile, the singing continued below. Janet had struck up "Tipperary," and the small flute-like voices of the girls, supported by her harsher one, mounted joyously through every crevice of the slightly-built house.

"It's a long, long way to Tipperary, And my heart's right there."

The beautiful tune, interwoven for our generation with all that is most poignant in its life, beat on Rachel's nerves. It was being sung all over England that Armistice Day, as it had been sung in the first days of the war, joyously, exultingly, yet with catching breath. There was in it more than thousands of men and women dared to probe, whether of joy or sorrow. They sang it, with a sob in the throat. To Rachel, also, sunk in her own terrors, it was almost unbearable. The pure unspoilt passion of it--the careless, confident joy--seemed to make an outcast of her, as she sat there in the dark, dragged back by the shock and horror of Delane's appearance into the slime and slough of old memories, and struggling with them in vain. Yes, she was "damaged goods"--she was unfit to marry George Ellesborough. But she would marry him! She set her teeth--clinging to him with all the energy of a woman's deepening and maturing consciousness. She had been a weak and self-willed child when she married Delane--when she spent those half miserable, half wild days and nights with Dick Tanner. Now she trusted a good man--now she looked up and adored. Her weakness was safe in the care of George Ellesborough's strength. Well, then, let her fight for her love.

Presently Janet knocked at the door. The singing downstairs had ceased.

"Are you tired, Rachel? Can't I help you?"

"Just a bit tired. I'm resting. I'll be down directly."

* * * * *

But the interruption had started fresh anxieties in her mind. She had paid the most perfunctory attention to the few words Janet had said about Dempsey's call at the farm, two nights before. She understood at the time that he had come to chatter about the murder, and was very glad that she had been out of the way.

But now--what was it that he had said to Janet--and why had Janet said so little about his visit?

Instead of resting she walked incessantly up and down. This uncertainty about Janet teased her; but after all it was nothing to that other mystery--how did Roger know?--and to the strange and bewildering effect of the juxtaposition of the two men--their successive appearance in the darkness within--what?--ten minutes?--a quarter of an hour?--while the cloud was on her own brain--without apparently any connection between them--and relevance to each other. There must have been some connection! And yet there had been no sign of any personal knowledge of Roger Delane in Dempsey's talk; and no reference whatever to Dempsey in Delane's.

She went down to supper, very flushed and on edge. Little Jenny eyed her surreptitiously. For the first time the child's raw innocence was disturbed or jealous. What did John Dempsey want with calling on Miss Henderson--and why had he made a rather teasing mystery of it to her, Jenny? "Wouldn't you like to know, Miss Inquisitive?" Yes, Jenny would like to know. Of course Miss Henderson was engaged to Captain Ellesborough, and all that. But that was no reason why she should carry off Jenny's "friend," as well as her own. Jenny's heart swelled within her as she watched Miss Henderson from the other end of the table. Yes, of course, she was nice-looking, and her clothes were nice. Jenny thought that she would get a new best dress soon, now that peace was come; and a new hat with a high silk crown to match the dress. Dempsey had admired a hat like that on a girl in the village. He had said it was "real smart." And to be "smart" Jenny thought was to be happy.

After supper, Janet and the girls washed up and put all tidy for the night. Rachel worked at accounts in the sitting-room. She had sold the last hay she had to spare wonderfully well, and potatoes showed a good profit. Threshing charges were very high, and wages--appalling! But on the whole, they were doing very well. Janet's Jersey cow had been expensive, but they could afford her.

They had never yet drawn out so good an interim balance sheet without delight, and rosy dreams for the future. Now her mood was leaden, and she pushed the papers aside impatiently. As she was sitting with her hands round her knees, staring into the fire, or at the chair where Ellesborough had sat while she told her story, Janet came into the room. She paused at the door, and Rachel did not see her look of sudden alarm as she perceived Rachel's attitude of depression. Then she came up to the fire. The two girls could be heard laughing overhead.

"So my cow's a good one?" she said, with her pleasant voice and smile.

"A beauty," said Rachel, looking up, and recapitulating the points and yield of the Jersey.

Janet gave a shrug--implying a proper scepticism.

"It doesn't seem to be quite as easy to tell lies about cows as about horses," she said, laughing; "that's about all one can say. We'll hope for the best." Then--after a moment,--

"I never told you much about that man