Joan Haste
.pdf
JOAN HASTE
«I said that I did not wish to marry him», she answered, evading the question. «To marry a girl like me would be the ruin of him».
Mrs. Gillingwater stared at her niece as she lay on the bed before her; then she burst into a loud laugh.
«Oho! you’re a simple one, you are», she said, pointing her finger at her. «You’re downright innocent, if ever a girl was, with your hands folded and your hair hanging about your face, like a half-blown angel, more fit for a marble monument than for this wicked world. You couldn’t give anybody a kiss on the quiet, could you? Your lips would blush themselves off first, wouldn’t they? And as for marrying him if his ma didn’t like it, that you’d never, never do. I’ll tell you what it is, Joan: I’m getting a better opinion of you every day; you ain’t half the fool I thought you, after all. You remember what I said to you about Samuel, and you think that I’ve got his money in my pocket and other people’s too perhaps, and that I’m just setting a trap for you and going to give you away. Well, as a matter of fact I wasn’t this time, so you might just as well have been open with me. But there you are, girl: go about your own business in your own fashion. I see that you can be trusted to look after yourself, and I won’t spoil sport. I’ve been blind and deaf and dumb before now – yes, blinder than you think, perhaps, for all your psalm-singing air – and I can be again. And now I’m off; only I tell you fair I won’t work for nothing, so don’t you begin to whine about poor relations when once you’re married, else I may find a way to make it hot for you yet, seeing that there’s things you mightn’t like spoke of when you’re ‘my
251
H. RIDER HAGGARD
lady’ and respectable». And with this jocular threat on her lips Mrs. Gillingwater vanished.
When her aunt had gone, Joan drew the sheet over her face as though she sought to hide herself, and wept in the bitterness of her shame. She was what she was; but did she deserve to be spoken to like this? She would rather a hundred times have borne her aunt’s worst violence than be made the object of her loathly compliments. How much did this woman know? Surely everything, or she would not dare to address her as she had done. She had no longer any respect for her, and that must be the reason of her odious assumption that there was nothing to choose between them, that they were equal in evil. She would not believe her when she said that she had no wish to marry Henry – she thought that the speech was dictated by a low cunning like her own. Well, perhaps it was fortunate that she did not believe her; for, if she had, what would have happened?
Very soon it became clear to Joan that on this point it would be best not to undeceive her aunt, since to do so might provoke some terrible catastrophe of which she could not foresee the consequences. After further reflection, another thing became clear to her: that she must vanish from Bradmouth. What was truth and what was falsehood in Mrs. Gillingwater’s story, she could not say, but obviously it contained an alloy of fact. There had been some quarrel between Henry and his dying father, and in that quarrel her name had been mentioned. Strange as it seemed, it might even be that he had declared an intention of marrying her. Now that she thought of it, she remembered that he had spoken of such a thing several times.
252
JOAN HASTE
The idea opened new possibilities to her – possibilities of a happiness of which she had not dared to dream; but, to her honour be it said, she never allowed them to take root in her mind – no, not for a single hour. She knew well what such a marriage would mean for Henry, and that was enough. She must disappear; but whither? She had no means and no occupation. Where, then, could she go?
For two or three days she stayed in her room, keeping her aunt as much at a distance as possible, and pondering on these matters, but without attaining to any feasible solution of them.
On the day of Sir Reginald’s funeral, which Mrs. Gillingwater attended, and of which she gave a full account, she received Henry’s message brought to her by the doctor, and returned a general answer to it. Next morning her uncle Gillingwater, who chanced to be sober, brought her word that Mr. Levinger had called, and asked that she would favour him with a visit at Monk’s Lodge so soon as she was about again. Joan wondered for what possible reason Mr. Levinger could wish to see her, and her conscience answered that it had to do with Henry. Well, if he was not her guardian, he took an undefined interest in her, and it occurred to her that he might be able to help her to escape from Bradmouth, so for this reason, if for no other, she determined to comply with his wish.
Two days later, accordingly, Joan started for Monk’s Lodge, having arranged with the local grocer to give her a lift to the house, whither his van was bound to deliver some parcels; for, after being laid up, she did not feel equal to walking both ways. About two o’clock, arrayed in her best grey dress, she went to the grocer’s shop and waited outside. Presently she
253
H. RIDER HAGGARD
heard a shrill voice calling to her from the stable-yard, that joined the shop, and a red-haired boy poked his head through the open door.
«Sorry to keep you waiting, Joan Haste», said the boy, who was none other than Willie Hood; «but I’ve been cleaning up the old horse’s bit in honour of having such a swell as you to drive. Stand clear now; here we come». And he led out the van, to which a broken-kneed animal was harnessed, that evidently had seen better days.
«Why, you’re never going to drive me, Willie, are you?» asked Joan in alarm, for she remembered the tale of that youth’s equestrian efforts.
«Yes, I am, though. Don’t you be skeered. I know what you’re thinking of; but I’ve been grocer’s boy for a month now, and have learned all about hosses and how to ride and drive them. Come, up you get, unless you’d rather walk behind».
Thus adjured, Joan did get up, and they started. Soon she perceived that her fears as to Willie Hood’s powers of driving were not ill-founded; but, fortunately, the animal that drew them was so reduced in spirit that it did not greatly matter whether any one was guiding him or no.
«Is he all right again?» said Willie presently, as, leaving the village, they began to travel along the dusty road that lay like a ribbon upon the green crest of the cliff.
«Do you mean Captain Graves?»
«Yes: who else? I saw him as they carried him into the Crown and Mitre that night. My word! he did look bad, and his trouser was all bloody too. I never seed any one so bloody before; though, now I come to think of it, you were bloody also, just
254
JOAN HASTE
like people in a story-book. That was a bad beginning for you both, they say».
«He is better; but he is not all right», answered Joan, with a sigh. Why would every one talk to her about Henry? «Captain Graves is not here now, you know».
«No; he’s up at the Hall. And the old Squire is dead and buried. I went to see his funeral, I did. It was a grand sight – such lots of carriages, and such a beautiful polished coffin, with a brass cross and a plate with red letters on it. I’d like to be buried like that myself some day».
Joan smiled, but made no answer; and there was silence for a little time, while Willie thrashed the horse till his face was the colour of his hair.
«I say, Joan», he said, when at last that long-suffering animal broke into a shuffling trot, which caused the dust to rise in clouds, «is it true that you are going to marry him?»
«Marry Sir Henry Graves! Of course not. What put that idea into your head, you silly boy?»
«I don’t know; it’s what folks say, that’s all. At least, they say that if you don’t you ought to – though I don’t rightly understand what they mean by that, unless it is that you are pretty enough to marry anybody, which I can see for myself».
Joan blushed crimson, and then turned pale as the dust. «No need to pink up because I pay you a compliment,
Joan», said Willie complacently.
«Folks say?» she gasped. «Who are the folks that say such things?»
«Everybody mostly – mother for one. But she says that you’re like to find yourself left on the sand with the tide going
255
H. RIDER HAGGARD
out, like a dogfish that’s been too greedy after sprats, for all that you think yourself so clever, and are so stuck-up about your looks. But then mother never did like a pretty girl, and I don’t pay no attention to her – not a mite; and if I was you, Joan, I’d just marry him to spite them».
«Look here, Willie», answered Joan, who by now was almost beside herself: «if you say another word about me and Sir Henry Graves, I’ll get out and walk».
«Well, I dare say the old horse would thank you if you did. But I don’t see why you should take on so just because I’ve been answering your questions. I expect it’s all true, and that you do want to marry him, or else you’re left on the beach like the dogfish. But if you are, it’s no reason why you should be cross with me».
«I’m not cross, Willie, I am not indeed; but you don’t understand that I can’t bear this kind of gossip».
«Then you’d better get out of Bradmouth as fast as you can, Joan, for you’ll have lots of it to bear there, I can tell you. Why, I’m downright sick of it myself», answered the merciless Willie. Then he lapsed into a dignified silence, that for the rest of the journey was only broken by his exhortations to the sweating horse, and the sound of the whacks which he rained upon its back.
At length they reached Monk’s Lodge, and drove round to the side-entrance, where Joan got down hurriedly and walked to the servants’ door.
CHAPTER XIX
RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION
On the day before Sir Reginald’s funeral Mr. Samuel Rock presented himself at Monk’s Lodge, and was shown into the study. As he entered Mr. Levinger noticed that his mien was morose, and that dejection beamed from his pale blue eyes, if indeed dejection can be said to beam.
«I fancy that my friend’s love affairs have gone wrong», he thought to himself; «he would scarcely look so sulky about a cow shed». Yet it was of this useful building that he began to speak.
«Well, Mr. Rock», he said cheerfully, «have they dug out the foundations of that shed yet?»
«Shed, sir?» answered Samuel (he pronounced it shodd): «I haven’t come to speak to you about no sheds. I have come to speak to you about the advice you gave me as to Joan Haste».
«Oh! yes, I remember: you wanted to marry her, didn’t you? Well, did you take it?»
«I took it, sir, to my sorrow, for she wouldn’t have nothing to do with me. I went so far as to try and kiss her».
«Yes. And then?»
257
H. RIDER HAGGARD
«And then, sir, she pushed me off, that’s all, and stood there saying things that I would rather forget. But here’s the story, sir». And with a certain amount of glozing and omission, he told the tale of his repulse.
«Your case does not seem very promising», said Mr. Levinger lightly, for he did not wish to show his vexation; «but perhaps the lady will change her mind. As you know, it is often darkest before the dawn».
«Oh yes, sir», answered Samuel, with a kind of sullen confidence, «sooner or later she will change her mind, never fear, and I shall marry her, I am sure of it; but she won’t change her heart, that’s the point, for she’s given that to another».
«Well, perhaps, if you get the rest of her, Mr. Rock, you may leave the heart to the other, for that organ is not of very much practical use by itself, is it? Might I ask who the other is?»
Samuel shook his head gloomily, and answered:
«It’s all very well for you to joke about hearts, sir, as haven’t got one – I mean, as don’t take no interest in them; but they’re everything to me – at least Joan’s is. And as for who it is, sir, if half I hear is true, it’s that Captain, I mean Sir Henry Graves. You warned me against him, you remember, and you spoke strong because I grew angry. Well, sir, I did right to be angry, for it’s him she loves, Mr. Levinger, and that’s why she hates me. They’re talking about them all over Bradmouth».
«Indeed. Well, Bradmouth always was a great place for scandal, and I should not pay much attention to their tongues, were I you, Mr. Rock. Girls will have their fancies, you know, and I do not think it is necessary to hunt round for explanations because this one happens to flout you. I dare say it will
258
JOAN HASTE
all come right in time, if you have a little patience. Anyway there will be no more gossip about Joan Haste and Sir Henry Graves, for he has gone home, where he will find plenty of other things to occupy him, poor fellow. And now I have a plan of the shed here: perhaps you can explain it to me».
Samuel expounded his plan and went away, this time without the offer of any port wine, for it seemed to his host that he was already quite sufficiently excited.
When he had gone, Mr. Levinger rose from his chair and began to limp up and down the room, as was his custom when thinking deeply. To Samuel he had made light of the talk about Sir Henry Graves and Joan Haste, but he knew well that this was no light matter. He had been kept informed of the progress of their intimacy by his paid spy, Mrs. Gillingwater, but at the time he could find no pretext that would enable him to interfere without exposing himself to the risk of questions, which he preferred should be left unasked. On the previous day only, Mrs. Gillingwater had come to see him, and given him her version of the rumours which were flying about as to the scene that occurred at the death-bed of Sir Reginald. Discount these rumours as he would, he could not doubt but that they had a basis in fact. That Henry had declined to bind himself to marry his daughter Emma was clear; and it seemed probable that this refusal, made in so solemn an hour, had something to do with the girl Joan. And now, on top of it, came Samuel Rock with the story of his angry and ignominious rejection by this same Joan, a rejection that he unhesitatingly attributed to her intimacy or intrigue with Henry Graves.
259
H. RIDER HAGGARD
The upshot of these reflections was the message received by Joan summoning her to Monk’s Lodge.
Having escaped from Willie Hood, Joan paused for a minute to recover her equanimity, then she rang the back-door bell and asked for Mr. Levinger. Apparently she was expected, for the servant showed her straight to the study, where she found Mr. Levinger, who rose, shook hands with her courteously, and invited her to be seated.
«You sent for me, sir», she began nervously.
«Yes: thank you for coming. I wanted to speak to you about a little matter». And he went to the window and stood with his face to the light, so that she could only see the back of his head.
«Yes, sir».
«I trust that you will not be pained, my dear girl, if I begin by alluding to the circumstances of your birth; for, believe me, I do not wish to pain you».
«I so often hear them alluded to, in one way or another, sir», answered Joan, with some warmth, «that it really cannot matter who speaks to me about them. I know what I am, though I don’t know any particulars; and such people should have no feelings».
Mr. Levinger’s shoulders moved uneasily, and he answered, still addressing the window-pane, «I fear I can give you no particulars now, Joan; but pray do not distress yourself, for you least of all people are responsible for your – unfortunate – position».
260