XVI -- DANE COP
IT was a dismal wet afternoon when Tony Palliser stood bareheaded besidea dripping yew tree under the eastern window of Northrop church. Hishead was aching, for the last few days and nights had not passedpleasantly with him, and confused as his thoughts were he realized whathe owed to the man the bearers were then waiting to carry to his restingplace. Godfrey Palliser had been autocratic and a trifle exacting, buthe had taken his nephew into the place of his dead son, and bestowed allhe had on him, while Tony remembered what his part had been. He had withfalse words hindered the dying man making a reparation which would havelightened his last hours.
Tony was not usually superstitious, or addicted to speculation aboutanything that did not concern the present world, but as he glanced atthe faces close packed beyond the tall marble pillar with its gleamingcross, and heard the words of ponderous import the surpliced vicar read,he was troubled by a vague sense of fear. Godfrey Palliser had gone outinto the unknown, unforgiving, and with heart hardened against hiskinsman who had done no wrong, but it seemed to Tony that the man whohad deceived him would be held responsible.
By and by somebody touched his arm, the droning voice died away, therewas a shuffle of feet, and he watched the bearers, who vanished withtheir burden beyond a narrow granite portal. Then the voice that seemedfaint and indistinct went on again, there was a grinding of hinges, aniron gate closed with a crash, and though Tony felt the damp upon hisforehead he straightened himself with a little sigh of relief. He need,at least, no longer fear the righteous indignation of Godfrey Palliser,who had gone down into the darkness with his trust in him unshaken.
Still, it was with an effort he met the rows of faces that were turnedin his direction as he walked slowly between them to the gate. They wererespectfully sympathetic, for Godfrey Palliser had held the esteem ofhis tenants and neighbors, who had only good will for the man who wouldsucceed him. They still stood bareheaded, for the most part, in therain, and Tony closed the fingers of one hand tight, for he had erredfrom fear and weakness and not with deliberate intent, and the men'ssilent homage hurt him.
It was but a short drive back to the hall, and bracing himself for alast effort he met the little group of kinsmen and friends who wereassembled about lawyer Craythorne in the great dining-room. Nobodydesired to prolong the proceedings, and there was a little murmur ofapprobation when the elderly lawyer took out the will. He read it in alow, clear voice, while the rain lashed the windows and the light grewdim. Providing for certain charges and a list of small legacies it leftTony owner of the Northrop property. His nearest kinsman shook handswith him.
"It is a burdened inheritance, Tony, and perhaps the heaviest obligationattached to it is that of walking in its departed owner's steps," hesaid. "There are not many men fit to take his place, but you have ourconfidence, and, I think, the good will of everybody on the estate."
There was a little murmur, and a gray-haired farmer, who was a legatee,also shook Tony's hand.
"I've lived under your uncle, and his father too," he said. "They weregentlemen of the right kind, both of them, and this would have been asadder day for Northrop if we hadn't a man we trusted to step intoGodfrey Palliser's shoes!"
Tony did not know what he answered, but his voice broke, and he stoodleaning silently on a chair back while the company filed out and lefthim with the lawyer. The latter was, however, a little puzzled by hisattitude, for he had seen other men betray at least a trace of contentunder similar circumstances, while there was apparently only care inTony's face.
"I would not ask your attention just now, only that the affair issomewhat urgent, and I must go back to town this evening," he said. "Asyou know, the electrical manufacturing company have been desirous ofpurchasing a site for a factory at Dane Cop, and I expect the managerto-morrow. The price he is willing to pay is, I think, a fair one; andas they will get their power from the river there will be little smokeor other nuisance, while the establishing of this industry cannot failto improve the value of the adjacent land. I have their proposals withme, and I fancy we could see the suggested site for the dam and factoryfrom the window."
Tony went with him and looked out on the dripping valley which laycolorless under the rain and driving cloud. The swollen river which hadspread across the low meadows flowed through the midst of it, and allthe prospect was gray and dreary.
"Of course we need the money, but I do not feel greatly tempted," hesaid. "Rows of workmen's dwellings are scarcely an ornament to anestate, and there are other drawbacks to the introduction of amanufacturing community. I am not sure that it would not rather be myduty to make up for what we should lose through letting them findanother site by personal economy."
The lawyer nodded. "Your point of view is commendable, but as thecompany seem quite willing to agree to any reasonable stipulations as tothe type of workmen's dwellings, and would do what they could to renderthe factory pleasant to the eye, I should urge you to make the bargain,"he said. "I wonder if you know that your uncle had for a long whiledecided that Dane Cop should go to Bernard Appleby. It has but littleagricultural value, and is almost cut off from the estate by SirGeorge's property, but he realized that with its abundant water power itwould, now the local taxation in the cities is growing so burdensome,sooner or later command attention as a manufacturing site. It issomewhat curious that this offer should come just when it has passed outof Appleby's hands."
Tony made a little abrupt movement. "This is the only time I have heardof it," he said. "Well, if you are convinced it would be a wise thingyou may sell."
The lawyer looked at him curiously, and wondered what had so swiftlychanged his views. "You have until to-morrow afternoon to consider itin," he said. "In any case, I should not commit myself until you haveapproved of all conditions and stipulations."
"If you consider them reasonable you can sell, but I would have thepurchase money invested separately, and whatever dividend or interest Iderive from it kept apart in the accounts. You understand?"
"It is only a question of book-keeping. You have no doubt a reason forwishing it?"
"I think you would call it a fancy," said Tony, with a curious smile."Still, I want it done."
The lawyer went out, and for half an hour Tony sat alone with a haggardface in the gloomy room listening to the patter of the rain. It hadceased, however, when he drove Violet Wayne, who had remained atNorthrop with her mother, home. Mrs. Wayne was to follow with aneighbor, and Tony and the girl were alone in the dog-cart, which wentsplashing down the miry road until he pulled the horse up where theriver came roaring down in brown flood under a straggling wood on theside of a hill. Tony glanced at the flying vapors overhead, wet trees,and dimly gleaming water that spread among the rushes on the meadowland, while the hoarse clamor of the flood almost drowned his voice whenhe turned to his companion.
"That force will no longer go to waste. I told Craythorne to-day hecould let the people who want to put up their mill have the land," hesaid. "He told me something I have not heard before. It appears thatGodfrey Palliser had intended this strip of the property for Appleby. Itcould be converted into money without any detriment to the rest, yousee."
"Hopkins always complained that Dane Cop was not worth the rent, but itwill bring you in a good revenue now," said the girl. "Still, doesn'tthat seem a little hard upon the man who has lost it?"
Tony flicked the horse with the whip. "The land was Godfrey Palliser's,and he did what he thought was right with it."
"I almost fancy he would not have left it to you if you had only had alittle more faith in your friend."
Tony turned his head away. "You mean if I had defended Bernard whenGodfrey sent for me? Still, I would like you to believe that if he hadleft the land to Bernard it would have pleased me."
"Of course! Could you have urged nothing in his favor, Tony?"
"No," said Tony, and Violet noticed how his fingers tightened on thereins. "Nothing whatever. I don't want to remember that night. What tookplace then hurt me."
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"Have you ever heard from Appleby?"
"Once. He was then in Texas."
"You answered him?"
"No," said Tony slowly, "I did not. The whole affair was too painful tome. I thought it would be better if I heard no more of him."
Violet said nothing, but she turned and looked back at the floodedmeadows and dripping hillside that should have been Appleby's, and avague feeling of displeasure against Tony for his unbelief came uponher. She knew that everybody would agree with his attitude, but shecould not compel herself to admit that it was warranted. When she turnedagain she saw that he was looking at her curiously.
"Godfrey Palliser told me another thing that night I have not mentionedyet," he said. "It was his wish that what he seems to have known wouldhappen should not keep us waiting. Now, I feel the responsibility thrustupon me, and know that he was right when he foresaw that you would helpme to bear it as he had done. I want you, Violet--more than I can tellyou."
Tony's appeal was perfectly genuine. Godfrey Palliser could ask no morequestions, Appleby's silence could be depended upon, and the cautiousinquiries he had made through a London agency respecting Lucy Davidsonhad elicited the fact that she had taken to the stage and thenapparently sailed for Australia. He had, he admitted, done wrong, but heresolved that he would henceforward live honorably, and, if it werepermitted him, make Appleby some convenient reparation. Violet, whonoticed the wistfulness in his eyes, responded to the little thrill inhis voice, and but for what had passed a few minutes earlier mightperhaps have promised to disregard conventionalities and hasten thewedding. As it was, however, she felt a curious constraint upon her, anda hesitation she could not account for.
"No," she said quietly. "We must wait, Tony."
"Why?" said the man. "It was his wish that we should not."
His companion looked at him, and there was something he failed to attacha meaning to in her eyes. "I can't tell you," she said slowly. "Still,you must not urge me, Tony. I feel that no good can come of it if wefail to show respect to him."
"But--" said the man; and Violet laid her hand upon his arm.
"Tony," she said, "be patient. I can't make what I feel quite plain, butwe must wait."
"Well," said Tony with a sigh, "I will try to do without you until yourmother thinks a fitting time has come."
"Then, if nothing very dreadful happens in the meanwhile, I will beready."
Tony flicked the horse until it endeavored to break into a gallop, andthen viciously tightened his grip on the reins.
"You put it curiously," he said. "What could happen?"
"I don't know," said the girl. "Perhaps what took place so unexpectedlya few days ago has shaken me, for I feel vaguely apprehensive just now.I know of no reason why this should be, but we are all a prey to fanciesnow and then."
Tony looked down on her compassionately. "The last few days at Northrophave been too much for you--and I was a selfish brute for not sending youhome," he said.
Violet made no answer, and there was silence between them while the dog-cart splashed on down the muddy road.
It was some weeks later when one afternoon Violet Wayne, who hadundertaken the embroidery of an altar cloth, entered Northrop church. Itwas little and old and shadowy, but the colored lights of the high westwindow drove a track of brilliancy through its quiet duskiness. Nobodyknew the exact history of Northrop church, but it had evidently oncebeen larger than it was then, for the spacious chancel with its carvedstalls and rood screen bore no proportion to the contracted nave. Violetentered it softly, with eyes still partly dazzled by the contrast withthe sunlit meadows she had crossed, and then stopped in faintastonishment as she saw a girl of her own age standing in evidentadmiration before an effigy on a tomb. It had been hewn in marble by anunknown sculptor centuries ago, but there was a rude grandeur in hisconception, and the chivalric spirit of bygone ages seemed living in thestone.
The girl who stood before it started visibly when Violet walked up theaisle. She was slight and spare, with vivacious blue eyes and fluffybrown hair.
"I am afraid I startled you," said Violet.
"Yes," said the stranger, "you did. I was too intent on the sculpture tohear you coming. It's--just lovely. I wonder whether you could tell mewho he was, or what it means, if you live round here."
There was very little accent in her speech, but it was quick and Violetknew that most Englishwomen would not have expressed themselves sofrankly to a stranger. Still, it was evident that the girl had artistictastes, for the effigy had often stirred her own appreciation. Itportrayed a mailed knight, not recumbent, but kneeling on one knee, withhands clenched on the hilt of a sword. A dinted helm lay beside him, andthough it and his mail had suffered from iconoclastic zeal or time, theface was perfect, and almost living in its intensity of expression. Itwas not, however, devotional, but grim and resolute, and it had seemedto Violet that there was a great purpose in those sightless eyes.
"I am afraid I can't," she said. "He is supposed to have been one of thePallisers, but it is not certain that he is even buried here, and nobodyknows what he did. The sculpture may be purely allegorical. Still, theface is very suggestive."
The blue-eyed girl looked at it fixedly. "Yes," she said. "One wouldcall it Fidelity. We have nothing of the kind in our country, and thatis partly why it appeals to me. Yet I once met a man who looked justlike that."
"In America!" and Violet Wayne was vexed with herself next momentbecause she smiled.
The stranger straightened herself a trifle, but there was ratherappreciation than anger in her eyes.
"Well," she said, "I am proud of my country, but he was an Englishman,and it was in Cuba--in the rebellion."
She turned and looked curiously at her companion, in a fashion thatalmost suggested that she recognized the finely moulded figure, gravegray eyes, and gleaming hair, while Violet made a slight deprecatorygesture.
"I can show you another memorial which is almost as beautiful," shesaid. "In this case, however, what it stands for is at least authentic.A famous artist designed it."
The girl turned and gazed backwards along the shafts of light thatpierced the dusky nave until her eyes caught the gleam of the gildedGloria high up the dimness, above the west window. Then they rested withawed admiration on the face of a great winged angel stooping withoutstretched hand. She drew in her breath with a little sigh ofappreciation which warmed Violet's heart to her, and then glancing downfrom the flaming picture read: "To the glory of God, and in memory ofWalthew Palliser, killed in the execution of his duty in West Africa."
"Yes," she said, "it's beautiful. But they should be together. The greatcompassionate angel over the effigy. It makes you feel the words, 'Welldone!'"
Violet smiled gravely, "I think I understand, and one could fancy thatthey were spoken. The man to whom they raised that window went, unarmed,sick of fever, and knowing the risk he ran, to make peace with arebellious tribe, because it was evident that it would provokehostilities if he took troops with him. He found a stockade on the way,and, though his bearers tried to hinder him, went forward alone toparley. He was shot almost to pieces with ragged cast iron."
"He was splendid," said the stranger. "And his name was Walthew--it is acurious one. I must thank you for telling me the story."
She would apparently have said more, but that a girl in light dress andbig white hat came in through a little door behind the organ, andlaughed as she approached them.
"So you have been making friends with Nettie, Violet! I was going tobring her over one of these days," she said. "Netting Harding ofGlenwood on the Hudson--Violet Wayne! Nettie is staying with me, and asshe is enthusiastic over antiquities I was bringing her here when Mrs.Vicar buttonholed me. They are short of funds for the Darsley sewingguild again. Will you come over to-morrow afternoon? Tea on the lawn."
Violet promised and took her departure, while when the other two wentout into the sunshine again Nettie Harding's companion glanced at her.
"How did Violet
Wayne strike you,--which I think is how you would putit?" she said.
Nettie appeared reflective. "I think I should like her. The curiousthing is that a friend of mine pictured her to me almost exactly, thoughhe did not tell me who she was. Still, at first I fancied she meant meto feel my inferiority."
"That is a thing Violet Wayne would never do," said her companion. "Idon't know where she got that repose of hers--but it's part of her, andshe doesn't put it on. Who was the man who spoke about her?"
"He didn't speak of her--he only told me about somebody who must havebeen like her," said Nettie Harding, who considered it advisable not toanswer the question. "The Pallisers are evidently big people here. IsWalthew a usual name in the family? Miss Wayne seemed to know a gooddeal about them."
The other girl laughed. "I believe there were several Walthews, andViolet is, perhaps, proud of the connection," she said. "They are an oldfamily, and she is going to marry one of them."