Wide Asunder as the Poles

Front matter

BY AETHUE CEUMP LONGMANS, GEEEN, AND CO. LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY 1897 All Rights reserved CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. The Pursee Family of Croyle, . . . I II. Solberg, in the Environs of Stockholm, . . 14 III. Tivadar Zenach, ..... 28 IV. Mr Swann from Stockholm, Merchant, . . 35 V. Preparations for the Start, .... 42 VI. My First Storm, ..... 45 VII. Breaking the Ice, ..... 52 VIII. Daniel Dreemer, ..... 59 IX. A Glance at the Capital, .... 65 X. Mr Solsken's Impression of Constantine, . . 68 XI. ' Here, Gyldenstolpe,' cried the King, ' My Brandy Flask,' 69 XII. Constantine Pursee pays his First Visit to Solberg, . 76 XIII. The Party at Daisy's Rooms, ... 79 XIV. Constantine's Second Visit to Solberg, . 84 XV. The Unceremonious Ejection of Mr Daisy, . 89 XVI. Order versus Chaos, ..... 94 XVII.

Constantine asks the Question. . . . 100 XVIII. A Sensible Father-in-Law, . . . .110 XIX. Mrs Pursee's Tea-party, . . . • »3 CONTENTS VI CHAP. 'AGE XX. Pauline accepts Constantine's Addresses, . . 123 XXI. Constantine returns to Croyle, . . .129 XXII. Constantine reveals His Secret to Dreemer, . 136 XXIII. Constantine has an Interview with His Mother, . 142 XXIV. On the Horns of a Dilemma, . . .148 XXV. ' A Horse 1 a Horse ! My Kingdom for a Horse ! ' 154 XXVI. Ways and Means, . . . . 158 XXVII. The Marriage, ..... 165 XXVIII. Pauline's New Home, . . . .168 XXIX. The Arrival of Constantine at Croyle with His Bride, ...... 170 XXX. Pauline's Reception at Croyle, and the Impression made upon Her, . . . . .174 XXXI. Pauline makes Dreemer's Acquaintance at a Race- Meeting, . . . . . 1S0 XXXII.

An Unwelcome Discovery, . . . 183 XXXIII. Doubt and Danger, . . . .185 XXXIV. Beetles indeed ! I know what He came for, . 188 XXXV. Pauline and Mauriel stand Face to Face, their Natures wide asunder as the Poles, . . 191 XXXVI. Preparations for an Unpleasant Interview, . . 195 XXXVII. A New Light shone in upon Them, . 199 XXXVIII. Murder will out 205 XXXIX. So dogs Our Steps the Evil of our Ways, . .210 XL. None so blind as Those who will not see, . 212 XLI. The Rising of the Gorge, . . . .216 XLII. Dreemer's Uneasiness, .... CONTENTS vii CHAP PAGE XLIII. The Appointment at the Landing-Place, . . 224 XLIV. Adrift in Mid-Stream, . ... 227 XLV. ' I am afraid, Constantine, You are responsible for this,' ..... 230 XLVI. A Veritable Family Crisis, .... 232 XLVII. A Glimpse at the Seewell Family, . . . 235 XLVIII.

Chapter I The Pursee Family Of Croyle

Mr Richard Pursee was a tall, thin man. Essentially a mild-natured creature, he had been soured by a self-willed and obstinate wife — a woman, who, however, possessed a good heart, but whose first kindly impulse was for ever being overruled by an invincible pertinacity which domin ated her whole being. Mr Pursee was a manufacturer in the small village of Drayton in Berkshire. His business had fallen off owing to foreign competition, and as his family increased, and with it his expenses, so the luxuries he was able to afford himself and those around him decreased in a corresponding ratio. He had inherited those very useful qualities of mind which cause a man to realise early in his career the trouble and suffering he will save himself by keeping his expenditure within his income. Unhappily, his wife inherited very different qualities of mind.

She never experienced the trouble of earning a sovereign, and seemed to labour under some such delusion as — that sovereigns found their way into her husband's pocket without his knowing it. There was, perhaps, some justification for the course she pursued in providing her girls and the establishment with the things that were required. Certain things and articles of dress must obviously be bought and consumed in a household. A However much the husband may try to shut his eyes to what is wanted here, and must be supplied there, the time inevitably comes when the hard facts of the case must be confronted and dealt with. His wife was always afraid to ask him for any money, because, when she did venture that far, upon occasions when she was encouraged by the dawn in his usually forbidding countenance of a languid smile, he would repel her advances, not by swearing or stamping his foot, but by unmistakeable insinuations which conveyed the same sort of indication as a cat gives to a dog when she is cornered, and the occasion demands erect hairs on the rounded back, a swollen tail, violent spitting, and a savage display of fore-claws.

He knew sufficiently well what were the duties of a husband towards his wife in such matters, but being short of cash, he considered himself justified on that ground in refusing to entertain her applications, until she worried him to that degree that at last he would sanction her procuring a few things from the nearest town, where she was allowed to have an account at the linendraper's. He did not approve of having things on credit, but even this principle was sacrificed rather than hand over the golden sovereigns. The house they occupied was an old one, standing on a piece of ground, on either side of which flowed a river, diverted on one side to turn the wheels of the mill. In the summer time it was a charming place for young people. There was fishing, boating, riding and other amusements, and in the season an ample kitchen garden supplied every variety of fruit.

The family consisted of two sons and three daughters — Richard, Constantine, Mary, Jane and Lizzie. This family party, with one or two visitors who were staying in the house, sat at breakfast one morning when the postman delivered, as usual, his letters. One of these being rather bulky, the master of the house was curious to ascertain what it contained. The envelope being removed, a bill about a yard long was unfolded, amounting to the not inconsiderable sum of sixty pounds, which had been run up at the linendraper's before referred to. Mrs Pursee was seated at the end of a long table, opposite to her husband, making the coffee. She was a short lady, with little, black, restless eyes, a stunted, ill-shaped nose, and what people call a powerful mouth, i.e., a long, straight mouth with the nether lip like a door-step in miniature, so straight, imperturbable and forbidding did it look.

Mr Pursee put on a pair of black bone spectacles, joined with a piece of black tape to pass over the back of his head, and accompanied by grunts in a variety of keys, interspersed with withering glances projected over the top of the said spectacles, took one end of the linendraper's bill in one hand, and one in the other, and stretched it to its full length, looking it up and down as he moved his body about and worked his temper up, doing his utmost to prevent an explosion of wrath, which all those sitting round the table could perceive was on the eve of occurring. ' Sixty pounds ! ' said Mr Pursee. ' Tsc, tsc ! Ah, humph ! Tsc, tsc, tsc ! Sixty pounds I What in the name of fortune is all this for?' His unhappy wife had had this bill on the brain for the last three months. Every time she went into the shop, the proprietor asked if he should ' send it in,' but seeing her evident objection, accompanied by a suspicious colour ing of the face, refrained from doing so as long as possible.

She had three grown-up girls to dress, and must have the necessary things for them, come what may, and then the poor thing had to go through the purgatory of seeing her husband half-work himself up into a frenzy over it. First he looked at one item, then at another. Yards of this and yards of that. Bonnets, ribbons and endless other things that, of course, young and old ladies must have. He looked at his wife and then at the bill, and then at his eldest daughter, until at length Miss Mary remarked with a laugh, — 'Well, papa, you seem to be very much astonished at Mercer's bill. Do you suppose we can go about with nothing on, like the aborigines?' This little sally enabled Mary's mamma to relieve herself of some of the trepidation that had developed rather a high pressure in the old lady's mind, which had so worked upon her feelings that she hardly knew what she was about with her coffee-making.

She laughed a bitter little laugh of approval at her daughter's remark, that increased the wrath with which her husband was agitated, and he looked fiercely across at her, crushing one end of the long bill in his hand, and ejaculating between his teeth, — ' Of course, you think they want three times as many clothes as any sensible person would think of providing. Sixty pounds I Good heavens ! Why, it's the wages of one of my men for more than a whole year. It's — it's — ruin, is shopkeeping like that ! ' ' The girls, my dear, must be decently dressed,' remarked Mrs Pursee. 'They have had nothing new before for a twelvemonth.' 'New,' said her husband, in a soprano tone of voice, which he elevated into a little shriek of disgust, as if he hoped his ejaculation would solidify and pierce a hole in his unfortunate wife; 'they don't want anything new. / never have anything new.

Why should anybody else have anything new ? ' With this he shrugged up both shoulders and laughed a fiendish sort of laugh as a cover for what he knew well enough was nonsense. ' Indeed, papa, we do want some new things sometimes,' said Jane. 'Look at the Coxes at Bullrush Lodge and the Majendies in the Park there — how well dressed they always are ! ' 'Their dresses are never made up at home out of remnants,' said Mary, pouting her lips and casting her eyes down first one side of her dress and then on the other. 'Why should ours be?' inquired Lizzie, with rather a frightened laugh. 'We are just as good-looking as those elegantly-dressed ladies that march along the road as if they think themselves I don't know what.' ' Oh ! bother the women's dress and Mercer's bill ! ' interposed Richard, with a very sour expression. 'Please give me some of that chine, father, and, for God's sake ! let's drop this conversation.' ' Don't you get angry, pray, Richard, dear,' said his mother, glad of an opportunity to convey a hint to her husband. 'Well, I hate these squabbles.

I am sorry to distress you, mother ; but, upon my life, we never collect round this family board but there is such an interchange of shots between you and my father that one never gets one's meals in peace.' The linendraper's bill having come into contact with Mr Pursee's wrath, the same result as with the thunder clouds followed the meeting of the negative and positive. But now, the worst of it was over. The old gentleman had swallowed the pill, and the old lady was rapidly getting rid of the effects of having swallowed hers three months ago. The consequence was, she chuckled with relief as she rearranged the breakfast cups, evidently being better pleased with herself than she had had the courage to be for weeks past. ' Deary,' she said, half-forgetting the mood her husband was in, 'what time are you going to Windsor with the phaeton ?

Are you going at three ? ' No,' he replied, short and sharp, knitting his brows without looking at her. ' I want to fetch that new china from Indcock's.' ' What new china ? ' he inquired, reverting to the soprano key. ' Any new china that comes here I shall most certainly pitch into the river.' ' Oh, Richard, dear, how can you ! ' said the poor woman. The second son's turn came now. He was a bit more a philosopher than his brother. Something very like at. oath passed his mouth, and he rose quietly with his plate and cup and got through the open window into the garden, where he finished his breakfast on a rustic seat. It may be supposed from the foregoing that this apparently very unamiable gentleman, Mr Pursee, senior, was a species of domestic demon by nature. His temper was very much soured, it is true.

It had been soured by a process which will, in course of time, sour any man's temper. Mr Pursee was a good-hearted man, as we have said, and naturally of a thoughtful, kindly disposition, but he had had it gradually taken out of him, and there is no doubt it was largely his poor wife's doing. To look at her face and study the features we have attempted to describe was sufficient to show that she had inherited qualities that would require no ordinary temper and devotion in the man to be able to live constantly with her without serious differences arising. There are many women of this type — particularly English women. She always wanted her own way. It was an invincible weakness which time rather confirmed than diminished. When the attention of comparative strangers was drawn to her obstinacy in this respect, she would still drive her will through if she could, covering it up with an apologetic laugh which showed she knew she was running counter to other people's wishes, but the tendency had got a hold upon her nature.

She had, besides, not been taught to consider other people's feelings enough, and so to the end of her days these characteristics, which had made her home so miserable for her husband, maintained their dominion over her. Mr Pursee, in the presence of strangers, conducted him self with all the polish of a gentleman, and could be very agreeable, as far as his shyness would let him. His little grey eyes never, however, seemed to have the courage to encounter the gaze either of a man or a woman. He would laugh heartily and enjoy a joke up to a certain limit as well as anybody, but it always seemed to be a blighted enjoy ment. His nature seemed to have developed under a pressure of unhappy surroundings. His laugh was as easily excited as other people's, but it seemed almost immediately to come under the restraint of his natural shyness.

He always seemed to have something in him trying to suppress the tendency to be merry whenever it was aroused, as if he felt there was something wrong in ' being gay.' He pro bably never could quite shake his mind free from the uncomfortable feeling of not having as much money as he really required. The struggle to keep his establishment going respectably weighed on his soul. He was the pink of order, and his wife the pink of disorder — not intentionally, but she had a disorderly, fussy way of doing everything — her eyes were always seeing other people doing things in which she must interfere and help them to make a muddle of. With a wife like this, a very orderly man, with a business that only just yielded a sufficient income to keep the establishment above water, when looked after with extreme care and forethought, might be expected, after many years, to have a good deal of the natural pleasantness of his disposition gradually driven out of him.

Sometimes well-to-do relations were there to dinner, and after the ladies had left and the conversation had become lively and amusing, he would get farther than usual out of range of the influences which depressed his spirits, and laugh till his usually cadaverous features were lighted up with an unacustomed activity of his blood. If his wife suddenly appeared on the scene, his countenance would at once assume a forbidding aspect that was shock ing to look upon. This, in fact, was observed by more than one of his visitors, and was remembered with more effect than if a volume had been read to them detailing the circumstances which had, by degrees, brought him into such a frame of mind towards his unhappy partner in life. Croyle, which was the name of the place where they lived, was fairly well situated.

There were islands in the river opposite the dining-room and drawing-room windows, having communication with the mainland by rustic bridges. Large trees afforded ample shade in the summer time, and the monotonous rumble ofthe old mill and the splashing of the water as it rushed on its way after having done its work in turning the wheels, was rather a pleasant sound than otherwise. Mrs Pursee was very fond of having a house full of visitors, but nothing was ever ready for meals, or for their arrival or their departure, or for picnics or drives or after noon tea, or anything else, until the very last minute. In the morning she would be heard about the landings and staircases of the house calling to this maid and that to come here and go there until the poor things did not know which way to go or what to do first.

Mrs Pursee would be seen to rush back to her room half-dressed as a visitor, frantic for his breakfast, returned to his room whistling loudly to try the effect of that upon the sleepy household. At length, down the hostess would come, rushing here and calling there for the different things that should have been placed upon the breakfast table. Her servants were so soon run off their legs, that, after a few weeks of it, they gave notice, and the only refuge was the unpractised girls of the neighbourhood, who would put up with anything to have a situation in what they considered one of the grand houses of the village of Drayton. Everything about the person of Mrs Pursee resembled the quaint slovenliness which characterised her ways. She was a short woman, and having short legs, a short temper and short petticoats, she presented a ludicrous aspect as she was seen hurrying in this direction and then in that to make up for lost time.

She would catch up the front of her clothes, displaying more than was exactly comme il faut of stockings that had been put on, like every other garment, in so much of a hurry that their very wrinkled-up condition suggested the presence of very elastic garters. Her slippers were always old-looking and surmounted with unpicturesque protrusions. The old lady's wide feet resembled, when retreating rapidly, a pair of soles making off for their very existence. The good lady sported a cap that was never tied, and her grinning countenance, in this blown-out frame work, as she came hurriedly to greet you, was something to astonish anyone unused to such exhibitions. She was a particular study on a Sunday morning, when the family attended the neighbouring Methodist chapel. Mr Pursee was always before the time, standing ready to go in the hall with his well-worn, neatly-patched boots.

There the poor man would brush and rebrush his hat, and again and again perambulate the place to see if his better-half had begun to dress herself, when they ought already to be on the way. The music of her heels could be heard overhead as she ran to this corner and that of her room in search of things never properly put away after being last used. At length, tired out, the poor man would manage to get hold of one or perhaps two of the daughters and persuade them to accompany him. He did not like facing the congrega tion alone, being one of those men of agnostic impressions, who, for discipline's sake, go to chapel, but all the while feeling that they do not, like George Eliot, think there is ' sufficient evidence ' to induce one to believe all that we are invited to have faith in. When all who were going to the little Bethel had started and were out of ear-shot, Mrs Pursee would succeed in screwing herself up to the mark, and great would be the rush she would then make to catch up the other members of her family.

Full run she would go up the road with gloves, books, umbrella, shawl and various etceteras which she had promised to take to people during the week gathered in her embrace, but which she intended to give on that day instead, thereby killing two birds with one stone. The exhibition of a considerable portion of nether garments gave evidence that they were partly unattached at some point on the circumference of the good lady's waist. A pair of drab cloth boots of quaint design, and rejoicing in different - sized buttons, had been shuffled on the last minute. Both were unbuttoned, and the sides flapped open with each onward motion of the foot. Panting and red in the face, she pushed her way into the pew, stumbling on to the toes of those who were in her way as she endeavoured to reach her place, while at the same time she exchanged nods of recognition with neighbouring friends.

As soon as the service was over, she would fuss about the little chapel after she had profusely thanked the minister for the ' wonderful feast ' he had given them, engaging in endless small talk with many of those whose better circum stances justified them in waylaying any of the members of the Croyle family. Richard, the eldest son, was a heavy, inert mass of humanity, with a look about him that told at a glance that he would make no special mark in this world unless he happened to fall down in very deep mud. Whatever he was set to do in the way of assisting his father, he made a mess of. A small portion of his brain had a liking for what people call the classic authors. His father made boards for book-covers out of old ropes, and there were large bundles of these ropes on the premises. Visitors at Croyle, in their afternoon walks, would occasionally discover Richard asleep on a bundle of these, with Horace open by his side.

He was of that class of beings who take a long time to incubate an idea. He would sit at the table with a fixed smile on his face, looking at an individual about whom he was growing a remark. His power of initiation being slow, he had to plant the seed, water it and wait till it flowered. While this process was going on, spectators of his silent preparations to deliver himself of the result would think his little preliminary grunts and cackl ing were indicative of mental disruption. That was a mistake. He was tolerably sound in the end, but the machinery of his intellect was somehow or other clogged by the fat of his body. He seemed to be performer and audience in one. Knowing what he was going to say, he would laugh almost uncontrollably in advance of the hatch ing of his bon mot, which, of course, appeared ridiculous until the remark itself came into being, which then proved, after all, that Richard was not such a fool as he looked.

Like country people of the bygone periods, which many persons are so fond of calling ' the good old times,' Richard was not at all shy among his own relations. On the con trary, he was as unduly familiar with all the members of the household as he was stupidly and awkwardly reticent in any other society. It fell to the lot of an unhappy in dividual to be hired as a governess for the girls of this establishment, and the method of love-making, adopted by this remarkable heir-apparent on the occasion of his having hemmed her into a corner of the garden one day, may be judged of from the following. What poetical people call the shades of evening had relieved the direct rays of the sunlight, and the shrubbery surrounding a part of the pleasure garden at Croyle was nearly so dusk that you could scarcely distinguish objects at a few paces distant.

Miss Windle, the governess, admired the eldest son less than any other member of the family, and as she saw him approaching, she shrunk into the bushes and remained motionless and silent, hoping to escape his very objection able advances. ' Most distinguished and refulgent creature,' remarked Richard, as he cautiously approached, looking to see if there was any opening by which she could fly from him. ' Most adorable of all human objects which the Maker of all things has succeeded in bringing to absolute perfection, I beseech you to believe that the one thing for which I have exsisted for the past month is to enjoy your delightful society for a period, uninterrupted and alone.' Miss Windle was not a young, timid woman. Rather an elderly person had been selected on purpose. She amused herself now and again by pretending to be coy.

As there were few amusements to be had in this comparatively retired spot, she did not altogether object to be courted, but she declined, most distinctly, to allow the unattractive in dividual who was now making love to her to go beyond certain limits. When he had come within a yard or so, with his arms extended, she remarked with a half laugh, — ' Don't be a fool, Mr Richard, and let me go to the house.' This little half-encouraging epithet, as might be expected, did not have the desired effect. Her expression and tone of voice seemed in fact rather to indicate that she was not entirely averse to his thus amusing himself. ' Peerless and most seraphic vision, accept my arm for a short stroll,' he continued. ' Impossible,' she replied in such circumstances. ' Allow me to pass, if you please.' ' I would end my existence to-morrow,' he said, ' if I could for one solitary moment hold you round the waist,' and his fat, expressionless face was made uglier still by being squeezed into a smile. ' Indeed !

And pray what will you dream of asking next ? Certainly not ! ' He now made a forward movement as if to help himself to what she refused to grant, when she raised one arm, and call ing out ' Mr Richard, keep off! ' made a rush to pass him and escape to the house. This she partially succeeded in doing ; but, in crossing a flower border, she stumbled, and this lumbering specimen of humanity, who was persecuting her, made a lunge at his prey and both rolled together on to the grass. Miss Windle gave a shriek and he yelled with laughter, the combined sounds bringing his mother and one of the daughters on to the scene. Mrs Pursee was now in her glory. She was to be seen at her grandest when something dreadful was to be dis covered, especially when there was the possibility of one of her own sex being found out flirting. ' What's this I Who's that down there ?

My goodness ! What's the matter ! ' she could be heard calling out, as she ran across the lawn in the direction of the sounds. Mrs Pursee arrived on the scene just as Miss Windle rose to her feet in a very naturally disordered condition of head-dress, etc. — Richard had just that absence of good sense to think that he might put a better complexion on the little episode if he retreated into the bushes. Approaching Miss Windle, with a countenance which would have made any photographer's fortune if he could have taken it at that moment, the old lady said in a key and tone impossible to describe, — ' Well I upon my word — and — and what is the meaning of this ? Do you call this the sort of behaviour that I ex pect from a governess in my house. Who is that I saw run into the bushes ? ' Miss Windle was rather out of breath for a moment, and could not at once speak.

What little things had fastened upon her dress when she fell she brushed off and said, ' Mr Richard would pursue me, and, in trying to escape, I fell.' ' A very nice excuse, indeed ! I — I am ashamed, Miss Windle, that any lady of my establishment should so far forget herself. I — I — ' ' Madam,' replied Miss Windle, ' I beg you will make no insinuations.' ' Insinuations, indeed ! ' the very amiable Mrs Pursee said in a sneering tone, as if it was disappointing to think for a moment that she was to be deprived of a downright good bit of scandal, to ear-wig her friends with all round after this ' designing hussey ' had been dismissed Mrs Pursee's service. At this juncture the valiant Richard came forth from the bushes with a grin on his red face, at the sight of which his enraged mother was still more angry, remarking that she was very sorry any son of hers could be mixed up in such a disgraceful business. 'Aged and much-deluded parent,' said her son, in a feignedly calm tone, ' you are off the scent as usual.

Miss Windle has told you the unvarnished truth. It was my fault. I was having a lark with her. She tried to escape. I rushed after her; she tripped and fell, and I fell over her. Now, don't say any more about it, but go in — ' 'I will speak with Miss Windle,' Mrs Pursee said, still with much warmth. ' Mother, will you please go in ? ' again said her son.