The Quality of Mercy. A tale of Slumberly Quamp

Chapter I

Next morning Lilla became aware of a change in Geoffrey — an undefinable change — whether of manner, voice, or look she could hardly tell, but which shed a pleasant gleam of light upon her gloomy thoughts. The weather, too, that morning took a turn cal culated to encourage the vague hopefulness which took gradual possession of her mind during breakfast, and seemed disinclined to leave it afterwards. Chill winds and frequent showers had been checking the general cheer fulness lately, and filling all Slumberly with foreboding ; for the corn was ripe for the VOL. II. B sickle, and every farmer hungering for harvest weather. After breakfast Lilla strolled out into the bright sunshine with her aunt, and presently found herself, for the first time this summer, talking with auntie in the happy mother and daughter fashion which had obtained between them in the old days — before Lilla had learned to despise rusticity, and to become a silly woman of fashion.

" It seems like old times this morning, auntie," she said, clasping her aunt's arm affectionately ; " but what makes it so I can't imagine. Is it the return of the sunshine, or what, that makes one so much lighter hearted ? " The aunt smiled, having her own views about the sunshine. " I must be off on my usual morning visit to Emily soon ; I shall try and persuade her to come out a little, I think. She has been growing more languid lately, and has frequent fainting fits. I fear the poor girl hasn't long to live, and the thought draws one to her the more. It is an odd friendship, Emily's and mine, isn't it ? " " I think she is the most burning partisan you have in the world, Lilla. I noticed her flush of pleasure when we met her in the lane the other day. Her love for you is very pretty, I think ; you are her princess, romantic heroine, and fairy godmother all in one."

" I find it difficult to act up to the part. She little knows what a drifting, weak-willed creature I am ; you have no idea what a hypocrite I feel under all her praise and devotion. Come, little auntie, walk as far as the lodge gates with me. But first I must run in and fetch you a parasol, for I can't have you walking about unprotected under this blazing sun." The aunt and niece seemed loth to part this morning. They walked together as far as the lodge gates and there lingered. " Take care of yourself now, little aunt ; I wish you were coming too ; if you were but a little stronger I should make you. Kiss me now. There, one would think I was starting for America at least ! " Lilla walked on alone, past the Vicarage garden, stopping to wave her hand several times before she passed out of sight.

It happened that on her way into the village an unexpected incident befell her, which was no less than an interview with her determined little enemy, Rose Chichester. Since hearing from Mrs. Reeks of the expected severance of Geoffrey's engagement, Rose had suffered from certain prickings of conscience. The news, whether true or false — and so many rumours and hints of a like tendency had lately reached her ears through Mrs. Crawford, that there must at least, thought Rose, be some grounds for them — gave a smart shock to her conception of the situation. Poor Rose had been posed to her own eyes — thanks to her own morbid broodings, backed by Mrs. Crawford's sentimental sympathy — as a suffering martyr, a person condemned to drag her weary steps along a weary high way ; while Geoffrey, the once friend, the cold deserter, trod a primrose-path which must needs be one long gush of happiness.

But suppose this report to be founded upon fact, the gush of happiness, that is the very prop and mainstay of her case against her cousin, must be put out of court altogether. In which case not only would she be robbed of her grievance, — a species of theft resented by most women as a bitter wrong,— but she would have to answer certain accusations of her own conscience in the matter of that interview with Mrs. Crawford, whom she had deliberately allowed to go away with a false impression of Geoffrey's conduct. That his happiness should be put a stop to seemed to Rose, blinded by morbid egotism as she was, just and fitting enough ; but that she herself should have erected the barrier by — by producing a false impression,— she put the case against herself thus mildly for the present, — filled her with unpleasant qualms.

In short, her generous instincts had become badly clouded, but were not yet quenched altogether. Now it chanced that Rose's conscience was pricking her rather sharply this morning on her way back from the village, and the appearance of Miss Fitz-Urse in the lane before her alone — she always seemed to be alone nowa days: perhaps the engagement was actually broken off? — gave a sudden push to a half formed resolve of hers. Miss Fitz-Urse, when she perceived her rival coming towards her along the narrow road, was much inclined to turn tail and run away. It was always painful to this soft-hearted Lilla to pass one of whose trouble she had been the innocent cause ; moreover, Rose would always sweep by in a manner so bitterly contemptuous that the other used to feel scorched as well as guilty. This time Lilla's nervous dread reached quite a high pitch, for, with instinct sharpened by fear, she became aware, while they were still some yards apart, that Miss Chichester was going to stop and speak to her.

" She is going to upbraid me and say stinging things — what shall I do ? " thought Lilla helplessly. Rose saw the other's alarm, and resented it, as she resented the girl's beauty and high-bred grace and dainty apparel ; but was none the less resolved to go through with the matter, to perform what her conscience had begun to call in plain terms — her duty. The pair stopped as though by mutual consent, Rose blushing fiercely, but full of stern resolve, Lilla shaking so that she was glad to lower her parasol anu lean upon its long handle. For the first time Rose stood face to face with her successful rival. Her every fibre quivered with enmity, and with disappointment at finding so little to find fault with. That Geoffrey's betrothed was a beauty she had admitted at first sight, though with wrath and bitterness ; but that the spoiled beauty might possess any earthly good qualities, save pretty looks and high fashion, Rose had not for a moment admitted to herself.

Yet here was this haughty creature standing meekly before her like a child awaiting a rebuke— a gentle, tender-faced woman too, without a touch of the fashionable insolence with which Rose had insisted upon her being eaten up. " She is sweeter and gentler than I, as well as a hundred times more beautiful," thought poor Rose, with a catch at her breath, "and I hate her even more than I thought ! " But Rose had prescribed a dose for herself, and gulp it down she would, howsoever bitter. " Excuse my stopping you," she began in a firm clear tone, her courage rising with the consciousness of her opponent's want of it, "but I have something to say to you. I wish to speak of my cousin, Mr. Chichester, having reason to believe that certain false reports have got about concerning his — his conduct."

Lilla flushed rosy red, listening with a wide eyed eagerness which showed clearly enough that these reports had not only reached her ears, but had brought a soreness with them. " Not a word of these reports is true," burst forth Rose, looking fiercely up into the other's face, and emphasizing her words with foot and hand, " not a word, not one single syllable." " I have not believed them " You have : I can see it in your face, I can see the relief in your eyes. You have under stood him so little, appreciated" him so little, that you have believed him capable of playing with a girl, and then tossing her aside in your favour. Deny it if you can ! " " I thought perhaps " You thought perhaps," repeated Rose, with bitter scorn. " You thought perhaps he had behaved like a mean, shabby fellow — that shows how much your love for him is worth !

There never was a man with less ' perhaps ' about him. I tell you there's no more scru pulously honourable and faithful man than Geoffrey in the whole world. He's the very soul of honour — falls down and worships Honour like a god ; is no more capable of a mean, shabby action than of a cowardly one. ' Perhaps; forsooth 1 Perhaps you have shown your utter unworthiness of him by your sus picions. Not one atom of blame is due to him. I loved him, and it made him wretched not to return my love ; and then, though I had done my best to weary him out with my moods and exactions, he did me a great honour — asked me to be his wife, do you hear ? — fearing, like the chivalrous Quixote he is, that he might have encouraged me. Was that like the mean fickle creature you have suspected him to be ? Oh, I scorn y^ou for ever doubting him for a moment.

This is the return he gets for his man's honour and woman's tenderness — you mistrust and suspect him, and / — God forgive me — refuse to speak to him or to take his hand ! " Here poor little panting Rose, being so highly wrought up and excited, burst into a flood of tears, in which her enemy was little behind her. Probably the quiet little lane had not witnessed such a display of hysterical emotion for ever so long. " You have b — been very ge — generous and good about this, Miss Chichester." " I haven't ! I haven't ! " cried Rose with a little stamp, " and I shall cut him again to day very likely, if I come across him. I have been as mean and grudging about his happiness as any one could be — and I allowed that report to get about, even helped it on its way. But in your position I wouldn't have behaved as you have done : if he had loved me, not all the reports in the world would have induced me to think ill of him.

You have done little enough to deserve the love of such a man : I haven't a single fragment of respect for you ' " I never was good enough for him, and never shall be," said Lilla, humbly. But her humility did not mollify this fiery little Kosc in the smallest degree. She had done her duty, but it was a hard duty that compelled her to make her rival happy thus ; and nothing that rival could say or do could be creditable in her sight. Seeing that Rose was now about to move away, Lilla drew a step nearer, and said, with a good deal of feeling — " I am sorry you look upon me as an enemy, but perhaps you will feel more kindly towards me after doing me this great service. II "NT •- " IS ever. " I should so like to be better friends with you ; could you like me a little after a time, do you think?

" "No, I couldn't; and don't wish to. I hate you — 1 hate you ! " and poor Rose flung away up the lane with the tears still wet on her cheeks ; and only looked round once to deliver over her shoulder a last scornful " You don't deserve him ! " After this oddly mixed dose of castigation and comfort, Lilla stood looking down the lane, with her mind in a bewildered, topsy-turvy condition. But very soon her thoughts recovered their balance, while a deep restful satisfaction stole into her heart. Now that the pain was removed she could realize how sharp had been the sting of believing Geoffrey even half-guilty, how constant the effort to smother her regretful suspicions of him. She moved forward with a happy smile on her lips", and the ruddy little village had a very friendly face for her as it came in sight round the corner.

Emily Children was awaiting her on the foot-bridge hard by the post-office. "Ah, my dear princess! I have been looking for you for ever so long — ten minutes at least ! And now there are but five minutes left before my quill-driving begins again. I had begun to think you were not coming this morning ; in which case how would the important business of Slumberly post-office have got itself done? For I don't ever pretend to get through a morning's work without one talk with my beautiful princess, you know ! " For once this cordial admiration of her friend and prott'gde was a solace to Lilla. As a rule Emily's praise made her feel small, even hypocritical ; but this morning the sense that the clouds had begun to lift put her in better conceit with herself, and this affectionate par tisanship was a not unpleasant corrective to Miss Chichester's very candid strictures.

" You spoil me, Emily," she said, looking down into the still pool under the bridge. " You need spoiling — you're too modest and timorous by half. But you're different this morning, somehow. What has happened, princess ? have your eyes caught the sunbeams, or what? " " I am so happy this morning," murmured Lilla, without looking up. "Now surely Mr. Chichester can be nothing less than a fool," reflected Emily, looking with admiration at the stately figure, and the happy light in the fair face, " or how could he ever be cold to such sweetness, and beauty, and gentleness ? " "You must come for that walk up the stream this evening, Emily, as we agreed, though perhaps Mr. Chichester may come too. You won't desert me on that account, will you ? "Ah, now I see it all," thought the other with a jealous pang ; " his Highness has kindly consented to smile again, the unconscionable creature !

" " No, I shan't come — you won't want me," she muttered in an injured tone. "But I do want you, Emily; and Mr. Chichester can give you an arm when you are tired." " Now look here," cried Emily, with one of her abrupt changes, " you've twisted me round your finger already ; of course I shall come ; if you told me to go to the end of the world with you, I should start without hesitation. No one can resist my dear princess. I was jealous, that was all." Emily laughed as she spoke, having the gift, denied to most people, of humorous perception of her own foibles. "I shall go a little way with them, at any rate," she said to herself, " if only to see how his Highness treats her ladyship ; and if he doesn't behave nicely, he shall feel my claws ! " " Must you go in, Emily ? am I keeping you ? " Of course you are.

Do you suppose I can bury myself in that little office as long as there's a chance of standing here listening to you ? Again, it pleases me to stay, because there are two women waiting in there to buy stamps who hate each other like poison — Mrs. Reeks and Mrs. Clapton. Look, you can see them through that window, glowering at each other like tigresses. Slumberly is a sweet place for good haters — you meet the enemy so often, that there's no fear of good hatred dwindling into mere commonplace dislike for want of nourishment." "You look ill, Emily; I don't like your being shut up so many hours in that dismal little place. I wish you would let me speak to Mr. Apps about you." "The Fates forbid!" cried the girl in mock heroic tones, while she leaned wearily upcn the bridge-rail. " He would pour such a flood of egotism about your ears that you would need an umbrella to shelter you.

And you would be doing me an injury too, for my one desire in life is to remain here in Slumberly in his service." "But why so, since the work is too much for you .- " In order to be near you, and — for another reason, which you'll learn when I tell you my history, and make that full confession to you which I have threatened. I might have done it this afternoon, but Mr. Chichester has upset that. Good-bye now, dear princess ; I must go and separate Mrs. Reeks and Mrs. Clapton, and so save bloodshed." , l VOL. II. c

Chapter II

The late afternoon was full of sunshine and repose. After some weeks of warm, sullen rains, alternating with angry blasts from the north-west, nature seemed to have recovered her temper, to be settling down for a spell of rest and quietude. In the miniature pools up-stream the trout were leaping at the duns and spinners ; for now that the close, thunderous atmosphere and the cold winds which hinder the fly from hatching out had both departed, it was full time for a good holiday feed of August duns, with fern-webs, whose fat orange bodies gleam so as they drop from alder-bush or loosestrife, for change of diet. Along the footpath, and consequently close to the water, for brook and pathway clung to each other like good friends, parting here and there on some question of hedge or stile, but always coming together again for mutual apology and explanation — were Geoffrey and Lilla.

Two lovers one might almost call them, but not quite, for Geoffrey was by no means cured of his ailment yet — perhaps hardly even convalescent. At any rate he was trying to be agreeable, which was more than he had done for some weeks, and Lilla seemed more than content. In truth she had a pleasant task before her, that of asking for a forgiveness which was sure to be granted, and the granting of which could hardly fail to draw them a little nearer to one another. Emily had left them two or three fields back, peremptorily refusing to let either of them return with her; in fact, she was con sumed with jealousy of Mr. Chichester, and the more easily tired in consequence. As for Lilla, the sense of a clearing horizon still possessed her strongly ; for the interview with Rose had left more balm than soreness behind it, and Francis Fawkes, the dreaded enemy, had kept in the background since the riding incident.

Surely things were coming round, and Geoffrey's dreadful politeness — he was helping her over stiles now, and making conversation with the punctiliousness of some gentlemanly stranger — would gradually melt. " Geoffrey," she remarked with a sly smile, just after surmounting one of the stiles, while he stood aside as rigidly ceremonious as a soldier fixed at ' attention,' " do you remember saying on a certain evening in Kent, that your courtship was but just beginning, or about to begin? It has remained in that initial stage ever since, hasn't it ? " No answer. "You must let me know when it really does begin, or you'll take me by surprise." Still no answer; only much beating of thistles with his walking-stick. "I had a first interview with an old friend of yours to-day, Geff — with your cousin."

Geoffrey turned from the thistles with a gaze of blank astonishment. "But before I tell you about that I have to make certain humble apologies to you. I want your forgiveness, Geff." " Good heavens ! " he cried. " The forgiveness of a churl like me, who ought to be apologizing to you every hour of the day." " Yes, your forgiveness, Geff," she repeated firmly ; and proceeded at once to tell him of the reports concerning himself and Rose which had been persistently spread, and how Rose had, by her own confession, rather helped than hindered the spreading ; also how she herself had half believed them, and now confessed it with shame. " But surely," he cried, " little Rose cannot have behaved so ? When she first cut me, her old comrade and friend, I was almost as much astonished as pained ; but I can't believe . . ."

" Believe anything of a woman whose love you have rejected, for there are few Major Dobbins to be found among women. And don't be too hard on her, Geff; for I think a woman disappointed like that should be treated very gently." " I could forgive anything," he said moodily, "but treachery and dishonour; how could she turn thus upon a man who has been a brother to her, whatever be his faults ? I call it nothing short of a dishonour." o The truth was, that Geoffrey had been more embittered by Rose's conduct towards him than he had yet realized. Abstract things can never hit so hard as the concrete facts of one's own experience ; the gradual disappointment in general human nature that must come sooner or later to every kindly man whose sight is clear, and who is not a born cynic, has not one quarter the embittering power that belongs to the first disappointment in a trusted friend.

" She has confessed, Geff, she has con fessed," insisted Lilla ; " and I believe was not much to. blame in the matter of the reports. And, Geff, I do entreat you not to judge others by yourself too much ; your own code of honour is so bitterly strict, and you don't know how easily a woman is led astray . . ." "But there can have been no leading astray here ; surely you're off your brief, Lilla ? " Lilla's face was full of trouble; she was indeed outside her brief, pleading for one who had erred far worse than Rose ; and having once begun, went on pleading from a full heart. Geff felt a good deal bewildered. At most Lilla could not feel more than good natured pity for his cousin, yet she went on pouring forth such panegyrics upon forgive ness as filled him with amazement. What an amazing contrast was this conduct of hers to that of poor Rose, who had never been able even to speak with ordinary patience of any person he might happen to admire — who could be bitterly jealous even of his dog!

The reason for this difference between the two — the one being loved, the other only loving — was of course patent enough ; and Geoffrey's bewilderment was a clear proof that his equipment as a poet was scarcely complete as yet, in fact, that he had not yet learned the A B C of feminine human nature. Lilla's warmth and eloquence, however, had the good effect of lessening the distance between Geoffrey and herself; and so they wandered on, if not like lovers, at least like congenial friends, between whom talk flows on spontaneously. This path led them presently into a great cornfield, and by that time Geoffrey had become so far convalescent as to be able to .appreciate the rich soothing tones of the landscape, and the great brown and gold sea, freckled with tawny ears, that rose to meet the sky on one side ; the hot, misty purples of the distance ; the low afternoon sun that glowed over the brooding stillness.

To Lilla the hour was full of peace and hope. "He's coming back to me," she whispered to herself. "It is the beginning of the end — all will yet be well. Patience, patience; in the end he will forgive me."

Chapter III

Next morning Emily succeeded in extort ing a holiday from Mr. Apps. She obtained this great concession partly by dint of patient persistence, but chiefly by faithfully laying stress on the fact that she had good hope of spending the whole morning with the Honour able Miss Fitz-Urse. The mere mention of the great lady's name softened the post-master's strict attitude to wards business; and a little skilful harping upon this soothing string lulled his official propriety to rest so effectually, that Emily soon found herself in her room, attiring herself for an outing. Not for worlds would she have waited upon her " dear princess " without these preliminary rites ; for this whimsical girl would on such occasions take as much pains with herself, and give as much time to the coquettish settling of broad hats, pink ribbons, and other fal-lals, as though she were going to walk abroad with a sweetheart only half won.

After paying the usual tribute, then, to romantic affection, Emily emerged, and was fortunate enough to chance upon the object of her adoration not far from the post-office. Geoffrey being hard at work on his play, Miss Fitz-Urse was free until lunch-time— an announcement which Emily received with eager satisfaction, proceeding to take immedi ate possession of her prize, and to lead her down to the river bank by the shortest route. Turning down a short lane opposite the ' Wheatsheaf,' and then passing through a couple of water-meadows, they came upon the reed-fringed creek which was the focus of the amphibious fen-life of the little village. Here were collected the broad unwieldy punts which brought over the hay or reeds, according to the time of year, from the watery Quamp, and many smaller duck-punts and boats.

On the pales by the creek were hanging Tom Hada way's salmon-nets, and about the gravelly margin were scattered punt-poles, boat-hooks, oars, and the long-handled instruments with scythe blades used in reed-cutting. Emily stepped into a small duck-punt, and placed a heap of dried reeds by way of throne for her companion. " This is Tom's punt," she explained, " and we can float down the river with easy minds, leaving him to fetch it back again when he pleases. You can trust yourself to me, your devoted subject, princess, for I have lived on a Norfolk broad all my life, and am as much at home in a boat as on dry land, and would not run a hair of your pretty head into danger for worlds. As we float down I am going to tell you my story. I shall never get a better chance ; and — and I think you like me well enough to bear it now.

Are you sure though — will you promise faithfully not to hate me when I show you my true portrait ? " " I am afraid this plunge into the past will only distress you, Emily." " No, no, no. I am burning to show my self up, to sail under my true colours, and — and I want your pity and sympathy, to hear you say that you can love me in spite of everything." Thereupon Emily thrust out into the stream, using the light punt-pole like an artist trained to the work. Before they had drifted many yards Emily espied some white water-lilies in a bay sheltered by high reeds, and immediately made for them. " These are the last of the season," she cried, " and will make a royal crown for my queen. I shall bind them into a coronet with grass and reeds while we float down, and the story telling will come all the easier for having my hands occupied."

She plucked half a dozen dazzling white heads, carefully drying the dripping stems, and after pushing off into mid-stream again, settled down to her work at the feet of her princess. It was like an idyl, this sunny morning which Lilla was destined to look back upon all her life with pain. They went floating down the glossy river, with the sunlit air caress ing them, past the gray old mill, with its whirr and hum, growing dimmer as the smooth steadfast current bore them along, making a pleasant droning accompaniment to the gentle mood of nature, and the placid spreading of the Quamp, in whose reedy embrace the river curved and dimpled. " Princess," said Emily, while they were rounding the bend below the mill, " I'm going to begin ; and if you have learnt to hate me by the time we reach Winkton, we can go ashore there and part."

" I wish you would not think me so very perfect, Emily ; it distresses me. Perhaps my life would bear recounting less well than \>1 yours. "Tush! you could do no wrong; you are perfect in your gentleness and queenliness, and in all the other qualities which have made me your worshipping subject." Lilla sighed heavily, drooping her stately head, and looking into the clear depths of the Slumber. " Now listen, fair queen, to the simple tale of this unworthy stranger, whom kind fortune hath led into your dominions. Once upon a time, in a country that was all reeds and wide waters, and wide skies, there lived a maiden — a fair maiden, as most people, herself among the number, considered, but a maiden somewhat puffed up with men's admiration and with book learning. She was the daughter of country-folk, but almost the equal of a lady, she considered, thanks to natural vanity and ignorance of the world.