IV.
It was the Sunday following the funeral of Mrs. Havill, news of whosedeath had been so unexpectedly brought to her husband at the moment ofhis exit from Stancy Castle. The minister, as was his custom, improvedthe occasion by a couple of sermons on the uncertainty of life. Onewas preached in the morning in the old chapel of Markton; the second atevening service in the rural chapel near Stancy Castle, built by Paula'sfather, which bore to the first somewhat the relation of an episcopalchapel-of-ease to the mother church.
The unscreened lights blazed through the plate-glass windows of thesmaller building and outshone the steely stars of the early night, justas they had done when Somerset was attracted by their glare four monthsbefore. The fervid minister's rhetoric equalled its force on that moreromantic occasion: but Paula was not there. She was not a frequentattendant now at her father's votive building. The mysterious tank,whose dark waters had so repelled her at the last moment, was boardedover: a table stood on its centre, with an open quarto Bible upon it,behind which Havill, in a new suit of black, sat in a large chair.Havill held the office of deacon: and he had mechanically taken thedeacon's seat as usual to-night, in the face of the congregation, andunder the nose of Mr. Woodwell.
Mr. Woodwell was always glad of an opportunity. He was gifted with aburning natural eloquence, which, though perhaps a little too freelyemployed in exciting the 'Wertherism of the uncultivated,' had in itgenuine power. He was a master of that oratory which no limitationof knowledge can repress, and which no training can impart. Theneighbouring rector could eclipse Woodwell's scholarship, and thefreethinker at the corner shop in Markton could demolish his logic; butthe Baptist could do in five minutes what neither of these had done in alifetime; he could move some of the hardest of men to tears.
Thus it happened that, when the sermon was fairly under way, Havillbegan to feel himself in a trying position. It was not that he hadbestowed much affection upon his deceased wife, irreproachable woman asshe had been; but the suddenness of her death had shaken his nerves,and Mr. Woodwell's address on the uncertainty of life involvedconsiderations of conduct on earth that bore with singular directnessupon Havill's unprincipled manoeuvre for victory in the castlecompetition. He wished he had not been so inadvertent as to take hiscustomary chair in the chapel. People who saw Havill's agitation did notknow that it was most largely owing to his sense of the fraud which hadbeen practised on the unoffending Somerset; and when, unable longer toendure the torture of Woodwell's words, he rose from his place and wentinto the chapel vestry, the preacher little thought that remorse fora contemptibly unfair act, rather than grief for a dead wife, was thecause of the architect's withdrawal.
When Havill got into the open air his morbid excitement calmed down, buta sickening self-abhorrence for the proceeding instigated by Dare didnot abate. To appropriate another man's design was no more nor less thanto embezzle his money or steal his goods. The intense reaction fromhis conduct of the past two or three months did not leave him whenhe reached his own house and observed where the handbills of thecountermanded sale had been torn down, as the result of the payment madein advance by Paula of money which should really have been Somerset's.
The mood went on intensifying when he was in bed. He lay awake till theclock reached those still, small, ghastly hours when the vital firesburn at their lowest in the human frame, and death seizes more of hisvictims than in any other of the twenty-four. Havill could bear it nolonger; he got a light, went down into his office and wrote the notesubjoined.
'MADAM,--The recent death of my wife necessitates a considerable changein my professional arrangements and plans with regard to the future.One of the chief results of the change is, I regret to state, that Ino longer find myself in a position to carry out the enlargement of thecastle which you had so generously entrusted to my hands.
'I beg leave therefore to resign all further connection with the same,and to express, if you will allow me, a hope that the commission maybe placed in the hands of the other competitor. Herewith is returned acheque for one-half of the sum so kindly advanced in anticipation of thecommission I should receive; the other half, with which I had clearedoff my immediate embarrassments before perceiving the necessity for thiscourse, shall be returned to you as soon as some payments from otherclients drop in.--I beg to remain, Madam, your obedient servant, JAMESHAVILL.'
Havill would not trust himself till the morning to post this letter. Hesealed it up, went out with it into the street, and walked through thesleeping town to the post-office. At the mouth of the box he held theletter long. By dropping it, he was dropping at least two thousand fivehundred pounds which, however obtained, were now securely his. It was agreat deal to let go; and there he stood till another wave of consciencebore in upon his soul the absolute nature of the theft, and made himshudder. The footsteps of a solitary policeman could be heard nearinghim along the deserted street; hesitation ended, and he let the lettergo.
When he awoke in the morning he thought over the circumstances by thecheerful light of a low eastern sun. The horrors of the situation seemedmuch less formidable; yet it cannot be said that he actually regrettedhis act. Later on he walked out, with the strange sense of being a manwho, from one having a large professional undertaking in hand, had, byhis own act, suddenly reduced himself to an unoccupied nondescript. Fromthe upper end of the town he saw in the distance the grand grey towersof Stancy Castle looming over the leafless trees; he felt stupefied atwhat he had done, and said to himself with bitter discontent: 'Well,well, what is more contemptible than a half-hearted rogue!'
That morning the post-bag had been brought to Paula and Mrs. Goodmanin the usual way, and Miss Power read the letter. His resignation was asurprise; the question whether he would or would not repay the moneywas passed over; the necessity of installing Somerset after all as solearchitect was an agitation, or emotion, the precise nature of which itis impossible to accurately define.
However, she went about the house after breakfast with very much themanner of one who had had a weight removed either from her heart or fromher conscience; moreover, her face was a little flushed when, in passingby Somerset's late studio, she saw the plans bearing his motto, and knewthat his and not Havill's would be the presiding presence in the comingarchitectural turmoil. She went on further, and called to Charlotte, whowas now regularly sleeping in the castle, to accompany her, and togetherthey ascended to the telegraph-room in the donjon tower.
'Whom are you going to telegraph to?' said Miss De Stancy when theystood by the instrument.
'My architect.'
'O--Mr. Havill.'
'Mr. Somerset.'
Miss De Stancy had schooled her emotions on that side cruelly well, andshe asked calmly, 'What, have you chosen him after all?'
'There is no choice in it--read that,' said Paula, handing Havill'sletter, as if she felt that Providence had stepped in to shape ends thatshe was too undecided or unpractised to shape for herself.
'It is very strange,' murmured Charlotte; while Paula applied herself tothe machine and despatched the words:--
'Miss Power, Stancy Castle, to G. Somerset, Esq., F.S.A., F.R.I.B.A.,Queen Anne's Chambers, St. James's.
'Your design is accepted in its entirety. It will be necessary to beginsoon. I shall wish to see and consult you on the matter about the 10thinstant.'
When the message was fairly gone out of the window Paula seemed stillfurther to expand. The strange spell cast over her by something orother--probably the presence of De Stancy, and the weird romanticism ofhis manner towards her, which was as if the historic past had touchedher with a yet living hand--in a great measure became dissipated,leaving her the arch and serene maiden that she had been before.
About this time Captain De Stancy and his Achates were approaching thecastle, and had arrived about fifty paces from the spot at which itwas Dare's custom to drop behind his companion, in order that theirappearance at the lodge should be that of master and man.
Dare was saying, as he had said befor
e: 'I can't help fancying, captain,that your approach to this castle and its mistress is by a very tedioussystem. Your trenches, zigzags, counterscarps, and ravelins may be allvery well, and a very sure system of attack in the long run; but upon mysoul they are almost as slow in maturing as those of Uncle Toby himself.For my part I should be inclined to try an assault.'
'Don't pretend to give advice, Willy, on matters beyond your years.'
'I only meant it for your good, and your proper advancement in theworld,' said Dare in wounded tones.
'Different characters, different systems,' returned the soldier. 'Thislady is of a reticent, independent, complicated disposition, and anysudden proceeding would put her on her mettle. You don't dream whatmy impatience is, my boy. It is a thing transcending your utmostconceptions! But I proceed slowly; I know better than to do otherwise.Thank God there is plenty of time. As long as there is no risk ofSomerset's return my situation is sure.'
'And professional etiquette will prevent him coming yet. Havill and hewill change like the men in a sentry-box; when Havill walks out, he'llwalk in, and not a moment before.'
'That will not be till eighteen months have passed. And as the Jesuitsaid, "Time and I against any two."... Now drop to the rear,' addedCaptain De Stancy authoritatively. And they passed under the walls ofthe castle.
The grave fronts and bastions were wrapped in silence; so much so,that, standing awhile in the inner ward, they could hear through an openwindow a faintly clicking sound from within.
'She's at the telegraph,' said Dare, throwing forward his voice softlyto the captain. 'What can that be for so early? That wire is a nuisance,to my mind; such constant intercourse with the outer world is bad forour romance.'
The speaker entered to arrange his photographic apparatus, of which, intruth, he was getting weary; and De Stancy smoked on the terrace tillDare should be ready. While he waited his sister looked out upon himfrom an upper casement, having caught sight of him as she came fromPaula in the telegraph-room.
'Well, Lottie, what news this morning?' he said gaily.
'Nothing of importance. We are quite well.'.... She added withhesitation, 'There is one piece of news; Mr. Havill--but perhaps youhave heard it in Markton?'
'Nothing.'
'Mr. Havill has resigned his appointment as architect to the castle.'
'What?--who has it, then?'
'Mr. Somerset.'
'Appointed?'
'Yes--by telegraph.'
'When is he coming?' said De Stancy in consternation.
'About the tenth, we think.'
Charlotte was concerned to see her brother's face, and withdrew from thewindow that he might not question her further. De Stancy went intothe hall, and on to the gallery, where Dare was standing as still as acaryatid.
'I have heard every word,' said Dare.
'Well, what does it mean? Has that fool Havill done it on purpose toannoy me? What conceivable reason can the man have for throwing up anappointment he has worked so hard for, at the moment he has got it, andin the time of his greatest need?'
Dare guessed, for he had seen a little way into Havill's soul during thebrief period of their confederacy. But he was very far from saying whathe guessed. Yet he unconsciously revealed by other words the nocturnalshades in his character which had made that confederacy possible.
'Somerset coming after all!' he replied. 'By God! that littlesix-barrelled friend of mine, and a good resolution, and he would neverarrive!'
'What!' said Captain De Stancy, paling with horror as he gathered theother's sinister meaning.
Dare instantly recollected himself. 'One is tempted to say anything atsuch a moment,' he replied hastily.
'Since he is to come, let him come, for me,' continued De Stancy, withreactionary distinctness, and still gazing gravely into the young man'sface. 'The battle shall be fairly fought out. Fair play, even to arival--remember that, boy.... Why are you here?--unnaturally concerningyourself with the passions of a man of my age, as if you were theparent, and I the son? Would to heaven, Willy, you had done as I wishedyou to do, and led the life of a steady, thoughtful young man! Insteadof meddling here, you should now have been in some studio, college, orprofessional man's chambers, engaged in a useful pursuit whichmight have made one proud to own you. But you were so precociousand headstrong; and this is what you have come to: you promise to beworthless!'
'I think I shall go to my lodgings to-day instead of staying here overthese pictures,' said Dare, after a silence during which Captain DeStancy endeavoured to calm himself. 'I was going to tell you thatmy dinner to-day will unfortunately be one of herbs, for want ofthe needful. I have come to my last stiver.--You dine at the mess, Isuppose, captain?'
De Stancy had walked away; but Dare knew that he played a pretty surecard in that speech. De Stancy's heart could not withstand the suggestedcontrast between a lonely meal of bread-and-cheese and a well-ordereddinner amid cheerful companions. 'Here,' he said, emptying his pocketand returning to the lad's side. 'Take this, and order yourself a goodmeal. You keep me as poor as a crow. There shall be more to-morrow.'
The peculiarly bifold nature of Captain De Stancy, as shown in hisconduct at different times, was something rare in life, and perhapshappily so. That mechanical admixture of black and white qualitieswithout coalescence, on which the theory of men's characters was basedby moral analysis before the rise of modern ethical schools, fictitiousas it was in general application, would have almost hit off the truth asregards Captain De Stancy. Removed to some half-known century, his deedswould have won a picturesqueness of light and shade that might have madehim a fascinating subject for some gallery of illustrious historicalpersonages. It was this tendency to moral chequer-work which accountedfor his varied bearings towards Dare.
Dare withdrew to take his departure. When he had gone a few steps,despondent, he suddenly turned, and ran back with some excitement.
'Captain--he's coming on the tenth, don't they say? Well, four daysbefore the tenth comes the sixth. Have you forgotten what's fixed forthe sixth?'
'I had quite forgotten!'
'That day will be worth three months of quiet attentions: with luck,skill, and a bold heart, what mayn't you do?'
Captain De Stancy's face softened with satisfaction.
'There is something in that; the game is not up after all. The sixth--ithad gone clean out of my head, by gad!'