CHAPTER II.
THE YOUNG MAN FROM THE BREWERY.
There were during the summer months four Dorcas afternoons heldweekly in Baslehurst, at all of which Mrs. Prime presided. It was hercustom to start soon after dinner, so as to reach the working roombefore three o'clock, and there she would remain till nine, or aslong as the daylight remained. The meeting was held in a sitting roombelonging to Miss Pucker, for the use of which the Institution paidsome moderate rent. The other ladies, all belonging to Baslehurst,were accustomed to go home to tea in the middle of their labours;but, as Mrs. Prime could not do this because of the distance, sheremained with Miss Pucker, paying for such refreshment as she needed.In this way there came to be a great friendship between Mrs. Primeand Miss Pucker;--or rather, perhaps, Mrs. Prime thus obtained theservices of a most obedient minister. Rachel had on various occasionsgone with her sister to the Dorcas meetings, and once or twice hadremained at Miss Pucker's house, drinking tea there. But this shegreatly disliked. She was aware, when she did so, that her sisterpaid for her, and she thought that Dorothea showed by her behaviourthat she was mistress of the entertainment. And then Rachel greatlydisliked Miss Pucker. She disliked that lady's squint, she dislikedthe tone of her voice, she disliked her subservience to Mrs. Prime,and she especially disliked the vehemence of her objection to--youngmen. When Rachel had last left Miss Pucker's room she had resolvedthat she would never again drink tea there. She had not said toherself positively that she would attend no more of the Dorcasmeetings;--but as regarded their summer arrangement this resolveagainst the tea-drinking amounted almost to the same thing.
It was on this account, I protest, and by no means on account ofthat young man from the brewery, that Rachel had with determinationopposed her sister's request on this special Saturday. And therefusal had been made in an unaccustomed manner, owing to the requestalso having been pressed with unusual vigour.
"Rachel, I particularly wish it, and I think that you ought to come,"Dorothea had said.
"I had rather not come, Dolly."
"That means," continued Mrs. Prime, "that you prefer your pleasure toyour duty;--that you boldly declare yourself determined to neglectthat which you know you ought to do."
"I don't know any such thing," said Rachel.
"If you think of it you will know it," said Mrs. Prime.
"At any rate I don't mean to go to Miss Pucker's thisafternoon."--Then Rachel left the room.
It was immediately after this conversation that Mrs. Prime uttered toMrs. Ray that terrible hint about the young man; and at the same timeuttered another hint by which she strove to impress upon her motherthat Rachel ought to be kept in subordination,--in fact, that thepower should not belong to Rachel of choosing whether she would orwould not go to Dorcas meetings. In all such matters, according toDorothea's view of the case, Rachel should do as she was bidden. Butthen how was Rachel to be made to do as she was bidden? How was hersister to enforce her attendance? Obedience in this world depends asfrequently on the weakness of him who is governed as on the strengthof him who governs. That man who was going to the left is ordered byyou with some voice of command to go to the right. When he hesitatesyou put more command into your voice, more command into youreyes,--and then he obeys. Mrs. Prime had tried this, but Rachel hadnot turned to the right. When Mrs. Prime applied for aid to theirmother, it was a sign that the power of command was going fromherself. After dinner the elder sister made another little futileattempt, and then, when she had again failed, she trudged off withher basket.
Mrs. Ray and Rachel were left sitting at the open window, looking outupon the mignionette. It was now in July, when the summer sun is atthe hottest,--and in those southern parts of Devonshire the summersun in July is very hot. There is no other part of England like it.The lanes are low and narrow, and not a breath of air stirs throughthem. The ground rises in hills on all sides, so that every spot isa sheltered nook. The rich red earth drinks in the heat and holds it,and no breezes come up from the southern torpid sea. Of all countiesin England Devonshire is the fairest to the eye; but, having known itin its summer glory, I must confess that those southern regions arenot fitted for much noonday summer walking.
"I'm afraid she'll find it very hot with that big basket," said Mrs.Ray, after a short pause. It must not be supposed that either she orRachel were idle because they remained at home. They both had theirneedles in their hands, and Rachel was at work, not on that colouredfrock of her own which had roused her sister's suspicion, but onneedful aid to her mother's Sunday gown.
"She might have left it in Baslehurst if she liked," said Rachel, "orI would have carried it for her as far as the bridge, only that shewas so angry with me when she went."
"I don't think she was exactly angry, Rachel."
"Oh, but she was, mamma;--very angry. I know by her way of flingingout of the house."
"I think she was sorry because you would not go with her."
"But I don't like going there, mamma. I don't like that Miss Pucker.I can't go without staying to tea, and I don't like drinking teathere." Then there was a little pause. "You don't want me to go;--doyou, mamma? How would the things get done here? and you can't likehaving your tea alone."
"No; I don't like that at all," said Mrs. Ray. But she hardly thoughtof what she was saying. Her mind was away, working on the subjectof that young man. She felt that it was her duty to say somethingto Rachel, and yet she did not know what to say. Was she to quoteMiss Pucker? It went, moreover, sorely against the grain withher to disturb the comfort of their present happy moments by anydisagreeable allusion. The world gave her nothing better than thosehours in which Rachel was alone with her,--in which Rachel tendedher and comforted her. No word had been said on a subject so wickedand full of vanity, but Mrs. Ray knew that her evening meal would bebrought in at half-past five in the shape of a little feast,--a feastwhich would not be spread if Mrs. Prime had remained at home. At fiveo'clock Rachel would slip away and make hot toast, and would run overthe Green to Farmer Sturt's wife for a little thick cream, and therewould be a batter cake, and so there would be a feast. Rachel wasexcellent at the preparation of such banquets, knowing how to coaxthe teapot into a good drawing humour, and being very clever inlittle comforts; and she would hover about her mother, in a way verydelightful to that lady, making the widow feel for the time thatthere was a gleam of sunshine in the valley of tribulation. All thatmust be over for this afternoon if she spoke of Miss Pucker and theyoung man. Yes; and must it not be over for many an afternoon tocome? If there were to be distrust between her and Rachel what wouldher life be worth to her?
But yet there was her duty! As she sat there looking out into thegarden indistinct ideas of what were a mother's duties to her childlay heavy on her mind,--ideas which were very indistinct, but whichwere not on that account the less powerful in their operation. Sheknew that it behoved her to sacrifice everything to her child'swelfare, but she did not know what special sacrifice she was at thismoment called upon to make. Would it be well that she should leavethis matter altogether in the hands of Mrs. Prime, and thus, as itwere, abdicate her own authority? Mrs. Prime would undertake such atask with much more skill and power of language than she could use.But then would this be fair to Rachel, and would Rachel obey hersister? Any explicit direction from herself,--if only she could bringherself to give any,--Rachel would, she thought, obey. In this wayshe resolved that she would break the ice and do her duty.
"Are you going into Baslehurst this evening, dear?" she said.
"Yes, mamma; I shall walk in after tea;--that is if you don't wantme. I told the Miss Tappitts I would meet them."
"No; I shan't want you. But Rachel--"
"Well, mamma?"
Mrs. Ray did not know how to do it. The matter was surrounded withdifficulties. How was she to begin, so as to introduce the subjectof the young man without shocking her child and showing an amount ofdistrust which she did not feel? "Do you like those Miss Tappitts?"she said.
"Yes;--in a sort of a
way. They are very good-natured, and one likesto know somebody. I think they are nicer than Miss Pucker."
"Oh, yes;--I never did like Miss Pucker myself. But, Rachel--"
"What is it, mamma? I know you've something to say, and that youdon't half like to say it. Dolly has been telling tales about me, andyou want to lecture me, only you haven't got the heart. Isn't thatit, mamma?" Then she put down her work, and coming close up to hermother, knelt before her and looked up into her face. "You want toscold me, and you haven't got the heart to do it."
"My darling, my darling," said the mother, stroking her child's softsmooth hair. "I don't want to scold you;--I never want to scold you.I hate scolding anybody."
"I know you do, mamma."
"But they have told me something which has frightened me."
"They! who are they?"
"Your sister told me, and Miss Pucker told her."
"Oh, Miss Pucker! What business has Miss Pucker with me? If she isto come between us all our happiness will be over." Then Rachel rosefrom her knees and began to look angry, whereupon her mother was morefrightened than ever. "But let me hear it, mamma. I've no doubt it issomething very awful."
Mrs. Ray looked at her daughter with beseeching eyes, as thoughpraying to be forgiven for having introduced a subject sodisagreeable. "Dorothea says that on Wednesday evening you werewalking under the churchyard elms with--that young man from thebrewery."
At any rate everything had been said now. The extent of the depravitywith which Rachel was to be charged had been made known to her inthe very plainest terms. Mrs. Ray as she uttered the terrible wordsturned first pale and then red,--pale with fear and red with shame.As soon as she had spoken them she wished the words unsaid. Herdislike to Miss Pucker amounted almost to hatred. She felt bitterlyeven towards her own eldest daughter. She looked timidly intoRachel's face and unconsciously construed into their true meaningthose lines which formed themselves on the girl's brow and over hereyes.
"Well, mamma; and what else?" said Rachel.
"Dorothea thinks that perhaps you are going into Baslehurst to meethim again."
"And suppose I am?"
From the tone in which this question was asked it was clear to Mrs.Ray that she was expected to answer it. And yet what answer could shemake?
It had never occurred to her that her child would take upon herselfto defend such conduct as that imputed to her, or that any questionwould be raised as to the propriety or impropriety of the proceeding.She was by no means prepared to show why it was so very terribleand iniquitous. She regarded it as a sin,--known to be a singenerally,--as is stealing or lying. "Suppose I am going to walk withhim again? what then?"
"Oh, Rachel, who is he? I don't even know his name. I didn't believeit, when Dorothea told me; only as she did tell me I thought I oughtto mention it. Oh dear, oh dear! I hope there is nothing wrong. Youwere always so good;--I can't believe anything wrong of you."
"No, mamma;--don't. Don't think evil of me."
"I never did, my darling."
"I am not going into Baslehurst to walk with Mr. Rowan;--for Isuppose it is him you mean."
"I don't know, my dear; I never heard the young man's name."
"It is Mr. Rowan. I did walk with him along the churchyard path whenthat woman with her sharp squinting eyes saw me. He does belong tothe brewery. He is related in some way to the Tappitts, and was anephew of old Mrs. Bungall's. He is there as a clerk, and they say heis to be a partner,--only I don't think he ever will, for he quarrelswith Mr. Tappitt."
"Dear, dear!" said Mrs. Ray.
"And now, mamma, you know as much about him as I do; only this, thathe went to Exeter this morning, and does not come back till Monday,so that it is impossible that I should meet him in Baslehurst thisevening;--and it was very unkind of Dolly to say so; very unkindindeed." Then Rachel gave way and began to cry.
It certainly did seem to Mrs. Ray that Rachel knew a good deal aboutMr. Rowan. She knew of his kith and kin, she knew of his prospectsand what was like to mar his prospects, and she knew also of hisimmediate proceedings, whereabouts, and intentions. Mrs. Ray did notlogically draw any conclusion from these premises, but she becameuncomfortably assured that there did exist a considerable intimacybetween Mr. Rowan and her daughter. And how had it come to pass thatthis had been allowed to form itself without any knowledge on herpart? Miss Pucker might be odious and disagreeable;--Mrs. Ray wasinclined to think that the lady in question was very odious anddisagreeable;--but must it not be admitted that her little storyabout the young man had proved itself to be true?
"I never will go to those nasty rag meetings any more."
"Oh Rachel, don't speak in that way."
"But I won't. I will never put my foot in that woman's room again.They talk nothing but scandal all the time they are there, and speakany ill they can of the poor young girls whom they talk about. If youdon't mind my knowing Mr. Rowan, what is it to them?"
But this was assuming a great deal. Mrs. Ray was by no means preparedto say that she did not object to her daughter's acquaintance withMr. Rowan. "But I don't know anything about him, my dear. I neverheard his name before."
"No, mamma; you never did. And I know very little of him; so littlethat there has been nothing to tell,--at least next to nothing. Idon't want to have any secrets from you, mamma."
"But, Rachel,--he isn't, is he--? I mean there isn't anythingparticular between him and you? How was it you were walking with himalone?"
"I wasn't walking with him alone;--at least only for a little way. Hehad been out with his cousins and we had all been together, and whenthey went in, of course I was obliged to come home. I couldn't helphis coming along the churchyard path with me. And what if he did,mamma? He couldn't bite me."
"But my dear--"
"Oh mamma;--don't be afraid of me." Then she came across, and againknelt at her mother's feet. "If you'll trust me I'll tell youeverything."
Upon hearing this assurance, Mrs. Ray of course promised Rachel thatshe would trust her and expected in return to be told everythingthen, at the moment. But she perceived that her daughter did notmean to tell her anything further at that time. Rachel, when she hadreceived her mother's promise, embraced her warmly, caressing her andpetting her as was her custom, and then after a while she resumed herwork. Mrs. Ray was delighted to have the evil thing over, but shecould not but feel that the conversation had not terminated as itshould have done.
Soon after that the hour arrived for their little feast, and Rachelwent about her work just as merrily and kindly as though there hadbeen no words about the young man. She went across for the cream,and stayed gossiping for some few minutes with Mrs. Sturt. Then shebustled about the kitchen making the tea and toasting the bread. Shehad never been more anxious to make everything comfortable for hermother, and never more eager in her coaxing way of doing honour tothe good things which she had prepared; but, through it all, hermother was aware that everything was not right; there was somethingin Rachel's voice which betrayed inward uneasiness;--something inthe vivacity of her movements that was not quite true to her usualnature. Mrs. Ray felt that it was so, and could not therefore bealtogether at her ease. She pretended to enjoy herself;--but Rachelknew that her joy was not real. Nothing further, however, was said,either regarding that evening's walk into Baslehurst, or touchingthat other walk as to which Miss Pucker's tale had been told. Mrs.Ray had done as much as her courage enabled her to attempt on thatoccasion.
When the tea-drinking was over, and the cups and spoons had beentidily put away, Rachel prepared herself for her walk. She had beenvery careful that nothing should be hurried,--that there should be noapparent anxiety on her part to leave her mother quickly. And evenwhen all was done, she would not go without some assurance of hermother's goodwill. "If you have any wish that I should stay, mamma, Idon't care in the least about going."
"No, my dear; I don't want you to stay at all."
"Your dress is finished."
"Thank you, my dear; you have been very
good."
"I haven't been good at all; but I will be good if you'll trust me."
"I will trust you."
"At any rate you need not be afraid to-night, for I am only going totake a walk with those three girls across the church meadows. They'realways very civil, and I don't like to turn my back upon them."
"I don't wish you to turn your back upon them."
"It's stupid not to know anybody; isn't it?"
"I dare say it is," said Mrs. Ray. Then Rachel had finished tying onher hat, and she walked forth.
For more than two hours after that the widow sat alone, thinking ofher children. As regarded Mrs. Prime, there was at any rate no causefor trembling, timid thoughts. She might be regarded as being safefrom the world's wicked allurements. She was founded like a strongrock, and was, with her stedfast earnestness, a staff on whichher weaker mother might lean with security. But then she was sostern,--and her very strength was so oppressive! Rachel was weaker,more worldly, given terribly to vain desires and thoughts that werealmost wicked; but then it was so pleasant to live with her! AndRachel, though weak and worldly and almost wicked, was so very goodand kind and sweet! As Mrs. Ray thought of this she began to doubtwhether, after all, the world was so very bad a place, and whetherthe wickedness of tea and toast, and of other creature comforts,could be so very great. "I wonder what sort of a young man he is,"she said to herself.
Mrs. Prime's return was always timed with the regularity ofclockwork. At this period of the year she invariably came in exactlyat half-past nine. Mrs. Ray was very anxious that Rachel should comein first, so that nothing should be said of her walk on this evening.She had been unwilling to imply distrust by making any specialrequest on this occasion, and had therefore said nothing on thesubject as Rachel went; but she had carefully watched the clock, andhad become uneasy as the time came round for Mrs. Prime's appearance.Exactly at half-past nine she entered the house, bringing with herthe heavy basket laden with work, and bringing with her also a facefull of the deepest displeasure. She said nothing as she seatedherself wearily on a chair against the wall; but her manner was suchas to make it impossible that her mother should not notice it. "Isthere anything wrong, Dorothea?" she said.
"Rachel has not come home yet, of course?" said Mrs. Prime.
"No; not yet. She is with the Miss Tappitts."
"No, mother, she is not with the Miss Tappitts:" and her voice, asshe said these words, was dreadful to the mother's ears.
"Isn't she? I thought she was. Do you know where she is?"
"Who is to say where she is? Half an hour since I saw her alonewith--"
"With whom? Not with that young man from the brewery, for he is atExeter."
"Mother, he is here,--in Baslehurst! Half an hour since he and Rachelwere standing alone together beneath the elms in the churchyard. Isaw them with my own eyes."