XI
MARY TRELEAVEN
"Seen to-day's papers, Mr. Erskine?" he said, after our first greeting.
"I am afraid I haven't."
"You do surprise me."
"I fancy I have become pretty much of a hermit, Mr. Lethbridge, and Ihave scarcely enough interest in what is going on to open a newspaper."
"Things are very bad," he said gloomily.
"Bad! How?"
"We are threatened to be mixed up in this Eastern trouble. The wholething has got entangled. Some Servian assassins have murdered the CrownPrince of Austria. Austria made certain demands on Servia. Russiasupports Servia, whereupon Germany steps in and threatens Russia; butthe thing doesn't end there. The alliance between France and Russiadrags France in, and then the _Entente Cordiale_ between France andEngland causes us to interfere. Sir Edward Grey made a most pessimisticstatement last night. It seems as though we might go to war."
"You remember what I said the last time I was here, Mr. Lethbridge?"
"Yes, I know; but it is madness, pure madness. Think what it would mean.The whole trade of the country would be crippled. For that matter thetrade of the world would practically stop. We were just beginning torecover ourselves from the effect of the Boer War, and to place thefinances of the country upon a solid foundation, and now----It'smadness, pure madness. Just as our country seemed to be entering uponanother era of prosperity. If there is a war hundreds of people will beruined. Great firms will come tottering down like ninepins. Besides,think how we should all be taxed."
"That is the way you look at it, is it?"
"How can I help looking at it in that way?" he replied. "Why, think, Ihave just formed a company for working a petrol mine in Austria. Nearlya million of money has been raised, and is practically in the hands ofthe Austrians. We shall probably never see a penny of our money back.What right has England to go bothering with what Germany, or Russia, orAustria does? Why can't we attend to our own business?"
"I must get hold of the papers," I said. "I must try and see how westand."
"Oh, of course, Grey makes a good case. Here is the difficulty, you see.We signed a treaty in which we are engaged to protect Belgium; Germanywon't promise not to invade Belgium in order to attack France. But whyshould we bother about old treaties? What have we got to do withBelgium? I did think this Government had the sense to avoid war. If theTory party had been in we might have expected it; but there it is."
"Then Sir Edward Grey really thinks there is danger of war withGermany?" I asked.
"Things look very black," was his reply.
"If such a thing comes to pass," I could not help saying, "the wholeEmpire will be in danger."
"What, the British Empire in danger! You don't mean that?"
"I do," I replied. "I am not sure that war is not inevitable. Germanyhas been hungering for war for years, and she can place at least eightmillion men in the field, armed as never a nation was armed before."
"Oh, I have no fear about the Empire," he said. "The British Empire isas firm as a rock, and as safe as Gibraltar."
"We shall have to utilize every pound of power we have if it remainssafe."
"Nonsense! nonsense!" he replied impatiently; and I could see heregarded my opinion as of very little value.
"Where's Hugh?" he went on. "Late again, I suppose."
Hugh entered the room as he spoke, and behind him came his mother. A fewminutes later we found our way into the dining-room. Hugh was full ofthe news which had that day been recorded in the newspapers.
"It appears that war is certain," said Hugh. "You were right, Erskine,in what you said the last time you were here. It is evident that theGermans mean war, and are forcing it. They still hope that we won't comein, in which case they think they will soon be able to settle withFrance on the one hand and Russia on the other."
"Of course we shan't come in," replied Mr. Lethbridge; "it would be acrime if we did. Besides, it would be bad policy. We should be missingthe opportunity the war would give us. If Germany went to war withFrance and Russia, her trade, for the time, would be stagnated, and weshould be able to get it. If we get embroiled, America will steal thetrade of the world."
"I have been to Plymouth to-day," said Hugh, "and, as luck would haveit, I met with a man who is in the know. He says he knows for a factthat Germany means to fight us, that if we do not come in now she willsimply force a war on us in two or three years' time, and then she willsmash us."
"Nonsense! nonsense!"
"He is a great believer in what Lord Roberts says," went on Hugh. "Hebelieves that every man in the country ought to have been trained todefend the country."
"And then we should have become a military nation," was Mr. Lethbridge'sreply. "No, no, that won't do, and I simply can't believe what thepapers say."
"Anyhow, our fleet is mobilized," said Hugh, "and I hear that theTerritorials are being called up. But that is nothing. Our Army is amere bagatelle. It is on the board that a million men will be calledfor. Some say there is going to be conscription."
I will not record anything further that took place that night, for,truth to tell, I felt anything but comfortable. It was soon evident thatMr. Lethbridge and his son were entirely antagonistic, and, as aconsequence, a strained feeling existed. Indeed, I was glad when thetime came for me to return home, and but for the few minutes' chat I hadwith Isabella Lethbridge, I should have wished I had not accepted theinvitation. There could be no doubt about it that Mr. Lethbridge was ina very bad temper. I imagined that he had lost a lot of money, and hesaw the possibility of losing more. The fact, too, that Hugh, his onlyson, was not interested in his schemes, angered him.
"I say, Erskine," said Hugh, just before my leaving the house, "you haveno objection to my bringing Mary Treleaven over to see you to-morrownight? I want you to know her."
"I shall be delighted," was my reply. "But do you think you are wise inopposing your father?"
"How can I help opposing him?" asked Hugh. "I am of age, and I have myown life to live. She is the only girl in the world to me, and I am notgoing to live in misery because of the pater's fads."
As I left I had a few seconds alone with Isabella Lethbridge.
"You have been bored to death, Mr. Erskine," she said. "No, don't try todeny it. You have played your part very well, but your boredom iswritten on your face. I don't wonder at it."
"Then I apologize for an unforgetable breach of good manners. But did Iseem bored when I was talking to you?"
"No, you did not; but please, Mr. Erskine, don't go away with a falseimpression about me."
"I hope it is not false," I said, "for it is a very pleasant one."
"That is awfully poor," she replied, "and certainly it is not worthy ofyou." And then she flashed a look into my eyes which, I must confess,set my heart beating violently. "Perhaps the next time you come, Mr.Erskine, we may have pleasanter things to talk about."
I went home feeling that my evening had been ill-spent, and yet I wasnot sure. I felt somehow that forces were at work in my life which weregoing to make a change in me. Why, I did not know. It is said that whenpeople are near death, the horizon of their vision becomes widened, thatthe barriers which have hitherto bounded their sight break down. Wasthat so with me? I did not know why it was, but I felt as though I wereon the brink of some discovery. I had no reason for this. My thoughtswere rather intuitional than logical.
When I reached my little home I reflected upon what had taken place. Itried to gather up the impressions which had been made upon me since Ihad been in St. Issey. I was obliged to confess, too, that IsabellaLethbridge was right in many of the things she had said. I had come toCornwall, supposed to be a religious county, and yet, as far as I couldsee, the religion of both Church and Chapel was something that existedonly on the surface. There was very little that went down to the depthsof life. I had been to Chapel several times since the service I havedescribed. I had also been repeatedly to the Parish Church, but I neverfound the thing I wanted. The not
e of conviction, of reality, was alwayswanting. The people were so awfully comfortable, so completelyself-satisfied; the life of every one seemed to be laid over with athick covering of materialism. There was no general doubt aboutspiritual things, but there was a lack of consciousness. Men and womenappeared to be careless about what they pretended to accept. Idiscovered, too, that people went to Church and to Chapel rather as amatter of form and custom than because they entered into communion withthe Unseen and the Eternal.
Next evening Hugh Lethbridge brought Mary Treleaven to see me, anddirectly we met I did not wonder at the young fellow's determination. IfI have portrayed his character correctly, I have shown him to be asimple-minded, impulsive lad, who cared little for rank or riches; onewho obeyed the promptings of his heart, rather than the findings of hisreason. No one could associate Hugh with Mr. Worldly Wiseman, and surelyMary Treleaven was a fit mate for such a man. As far as I can judge, shewas about twenty years of age, unsophisticated and true-hearted. Thatshe almost worshipped Hugh was evident, and that she stood in awe of hisfather was just as apparent. I judged, too, that Hugh had been veryenthusiastic in his praises about me, for she seemed to regard me,comparative stranger though I was, as a very dear friend of her lover,and when for a few minutes Hugh left us together, she opened her heartto me.
"You know, Mr. Erskine," she said simply, "I know that as far as moneyand position and all that sort of thing goes, I am not Hugh's equal. Myfather is only a tenant farmer, and I am afraid they up at Trecarrelthink that I just look on him as a good catch; but really, Mr. Erskine,it is not that at all. I almost hope they won't give him any money, andI wish, oh, I wish he was only just a simple farmer like my father! Idon't care a bit about the money."
"I am quite sure you don't," I said. "You care only for Hugh."
"Oh, you see that, don't you?"
"Indeed I do," I replied.
"Do you know," she went on, as artlessly as a child, "that I have prayedabout it for hours. I thought it my duty to give him up; indeed, I haveoffered to do so more than once, but Hugh won't hear of it. But, afterall, why should I, Mr. Erskine? I love him and he loves me, and I am notafraid to work for him. Why, only give me a chance, and I will work myfingers to the bone for him," and the tears started to her eyes.
I loved to hear her talk. She had that peculiar, soft intonation, commonto the fairly-well-educated people in Cornwall. She spoke perfectlycorrectly, but the Cornish accent, which I had learnt to love--thatpeculiar, sing-song lilt--was manifest in every sentence she uttered.
"Do you know, Mr. Erskine," she went on, "I have been up to see Mrs.Lethbridge?"
"Oh!" I said; "and did you have a reason for doing that?"
"Yes," she said. "I thought it right just to let her know what I felt.Hugh is talking about emigrating to Canada, and I am sure that if hewent he would succeed there, and I am willing to wait five, ten years;it doesn't matter how long. You see, Mr. Erskine, I never loved any oneelse."
"And what did Mrs. Lethbridge say to you?"
"Oh, at first she didn't seem to like me, and, as I thought, was angry;but after a bit she got quite pleasant, and Hugh says that she has somemoney of her own, and that she is willing to give it to him, so that hecan start a small farm of his own. You think it would be right, don'tyou?"
"Think what would be right?" I asked.
"For him to go against his father, and take it. It isn't as though Iwanted Hugh for his money, Mr. Erskine, I only want him for himself, andhe wants me."
"I am sure that your motives are perfectly pure," was my reply, "but youmust remember that Hugh is his father's only son, and it is a very gravething for a boy to disobey his father's wishes."
"Yes, I know, and that is what has made me so miserable. We should havebeen married before now but for that. I am so glad, Mr. Erskine, thatyou don't think badly about me."
"Think badly about you?" I said, with a laugh. "That would beimpossible. I only congratulate Hugh on his good luck, and I jolly wellwish I had his chance."
"Now you are laughing at me."
"Good gracious! No, I am not laughing at you." And I suppose I sighed,for she looked at me curiously.
"Oh, forgive me, Mr. Erskine. I did not think! Hugh has told me allabout you. Perhaps it isn't as bad as you believe."
"Well, it is no use worrying," I replied, "and, believe me, I am awfullyglad to have met you. Ah, here is Hugh coming."
"You don't advise me to give him up, do you?"
"No, of course not!" I said; and I meant it, for this dark-haired,soft-eyed girl had made a strong appeal to me, and I had been perfectlysincere when I said that I envied Hugh Lethbridge. What, after all, wererank and position? What was anything compared with the love of a puregirl like that, and I, whose death-warrant was written, felt a greatpain in my heart, as I reflected that the love of such a girl wouldnever be known to me, that I should die in ignorance of what it couldmean.
"Hugh thinks so much of you, and he is so proud that you are hisfriend," she went on. "He says you were awfully clever at college, andthat if you live you will make a great name for yourself. He says henever felt towards any one like he feels towards you. Oh, it would belovely if you got well, and could be our neighbor and be near usalways."
I saw the tears roll down her face as she said this, and I, who havenever known what it is to have a sister, felt towards her as, I think,brothers feel towards a sister whom they love.
"You don't think badly of me, do you?" she went on. And I could see alook of longing in her eyes.
"What makes you ask such a question?" I said.
"Oh, Hugh says his father has quite taken to you too, and thinks a greatdeal of your opinion. I wonder if--if----"
"I am afraid Hugh is mistaken," I said. "But if any word of mine cansoften his heart----"
"Oh, you are good!" she interrupted impulsively, "and you don't thinkthat Hugh would be throwing himself away on me, do you?"
"Throwing himself away?" I cried, and at that moment I thought of MissTreherne, whom I had seen at Church on the previous Sunday morning, andmentally I compared them. The Squire's daughter was a staid-lookingspinster of about thirty years of age. She had never been beautiful, andno one by the utmost stretch of imagination could call her attractive.
"If I were Hugh," I said, "I would not give you up for anything oranybody, and I should regard myself as the luckiest fellow in the worldto get you."
She laughed like a child. It was easy to see that I had gladdened herheart, and when a few minutes later she walked away hanging on herlover's arm, I heaved a sigh of envy.
"They are right, both of them," I said to myself. "What is all the moneyin the world, and all the rank, compared to the infinite trustfulnessand affection of those two?
"Surely God, if there is a God, wants them to be happy," I reflected,and I formed a sort of quixotic resolution that I would speak to Mr.Lethbridge, and try to persuade him to withdraw his opposition to hisson's marriage with this pure, sweet, simple-minded country girl.
I did not carry my resolution into effect, however. The next day Isuffered a kind of reaction from the little excitement caused by whathad taken place, and immediately afterwards it seemed as though all mythoughts and resolutions were scattered to the wind.
"Please, sir," said Simpson, entering my room, "here's the paper, sir. Ithought you might like to look at it, sir."
"Is there anything particular in it, Simpson?"
"Yes, sir; war is declared, sir."
I took the paper from his hand, feeling strangely heavy-hearted, and onopening it, saw, staring me in large letters:
"ENGLAND DECLARES WAR ON GERMANY. GERMANY DETERMINES TO VIOLATE HER TREATY. ENGLAND DECIDES TO RISK ALL FOR HONOR. GREAT SCENE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. THE WHOLE NATION UNANIMOUS."
No sooner had I read this, than a strange calm came upon me, and Iscanned the paper in a detached sort of way. I seemed to have nothing todo with it; I was cut off from everything. I read what had been written,rat
her as one who read the history of another country, than as somethingwhich vitally affected England.
In a way I had expected it. My conversation at Trecarrel had somewhatprepared me, and yet events had moved so rapidly, that declaration ofwar came like a shock. The whole story was set forth in the newspapers,and from the dispatches it was made plain that, while Germany had hopedthat England would remain neutral, and had been willing to offer bribesfor our neutrality, she had planned this war, and made arrangements forit. There was no doubt that she believed both Russia and France to beentirely unprepared, and that both she and Austria were prepared. It wasplain too that unless we were willing to violate our plighted word, andto allow our honor to be dragged in the dust, we must stand by Belgium.I saw more than this. I saw that a critical moment had come in the lifeof our nation and Empire.
For I realized, knowing Germany as I did, that this was not a war to be"muddled through," as had been the case with other wars. I knew thatEngland must make sacrifices, such as had hitherto been unknown to her.I knew that before German militarism could be crushed, all the vastresources of our Empire would have to be utilized, and that we must beprepared to spend our last penny, and shed the last drop of our blood.
But even then I did not realize what this war would mean to our Islandhome, never saw, even from afar, how it would revolutionize the thoughtsand feelings of our land, never dreamed how it would affect the lives ofthe people in this little Cornish village.