by J. M. Barrie
Chapter Eight.
3 A.M.--MONSTROUS AUDACITY OF THE WOMAN.
Not till the stroke of three did Gavin turn homeward, with the legs ofa ploughman, and eyes rebelling against over-work. Seeking to comforthis dejected people, whose courage lay spilt on the brae, he had beenin as many houses as the policemen. The soldiers marching through thewynds came frequently upon him, and found it hard to believe that hewas always the same one. They told afterwards that Thrums wasremarkable for the ferocity of its women, and the number of its littleministers. The morning was nipping cold, and the streets weredeserted, for the people had been ordered within doors. As he crossedthe Roods, Gavin saw a gleam of red-coats. In the back wynd he heard abugle blown. A stir in the Banker's close spoke of another seizure. Atthe top of the school wynd two policeman, of whom one was Wearyworld,stopped the minister with the flash of a lantern.
"We dauredna let you pass, sir," the Tilliedrum man said, "without agood look at you. That's the orders."
"I hereby swear," said Wearyworld, authoritatively, "that this is nothe Egyptian. Signed, Peter Spens, policeman, called by the vulgar,Wearyworld. Mr. Dishart, you can pass, unless you'll bide a wee andgie us your crack."
"You have not found the gypsy, then?" Gavin asked.
"No," the other policeman said, "but we ken she's within cry o' thisvery spot, and escape she canna."
"What mortal man can do," Wearyworld said, "we're doing: ay, andmair, but she's auld wecht, and may find bilbie in queer places. Mr.Dishart, my official opinion is that this Egyptian is fearsomely likemy snuff-spoon. I've kent me drap that spoon on the fender, and bebeat to find it in an hour. And yet, a' the time I was sure it wasthere. This is a gey mysterious world, and women's the uncanniestthings in't. It's hardly mous to think how uncanny they are."
"This one deserves to be punished," Gavin said, firmly; "she incitedthe people to riot."
"She did," agreed Wearyworld, who was supping ravenously onsociability; "ay, she even tried her tricks on me, so that them thatkens no better thinks she fooled me. But she's cracky. To gie her herdue, she's cracky, and as for her being a cuttie, you've said yoursel,Mr. Dishart, that we're all desperately wicked. But we're sair tried.Has it ever struck you that the trouts bites best on the Sabbath?God's critturs tempting decent men."
"Come alang," cried the Tilliedrum man, impatiently.
"I'm coming, but I maun give Mr. Dishart permission to pass first. Haeyou heard, Mr. Dishart," Wearyworld whispered, "that the Egyptiandiddled baith the captain and the shirra? It's my official opinionthat she's no better than a roasted onion, the which, if you grip itfirm, jumps out o' sicht, leaving its coat in your fingers. Mr.Dishart, you can pass."
The policeman turned down the school wynd, and Gavin, who had alreadyheard exaggerated accounts of the strange woman's escape from thetown-house, proceeded along the Tenements. He walked in the blackshadows of the houses, though across the way there was the morninglight.
In talking of the gypsy, the little minister had, as it were, put onthe black cap; but now, even though he shook his head angrily withevery thought of her, the scene in Windyghoul glimmered before hiseyes. Sometimes when he meant to frown he only sighed, and thenhaving sighed he shook himself. He was unpleasantly conscious of hisright hand, which had flung the divit. Ah, she was shameless, and itwould be a bright day for Thrums that saw the last of her. He hopedthe policemen would succeed in----. It was the gladsomeness ofinnocence that he had seen dancing in the moonlight. A mere womancould not be like that. How soft----. And she had derided him; he, theAuld Licht minister of Thrums, had been flouted before his people by ahussy. She was without reverence, she knew no difference between anAuld Licht minister, whose duty it was to speak and hers to listen,and herself. This woman deserved to be----. And the look she castbehind her as she danced and sang! It was sweet, so wistful; thepresence of purity had silenced him. Purity! Who had made him flingthat divit? He would think no more of her. Let it suffice that he knewwhat she was. He would put her from his thoughts. Was it a ring on herfinger?
Fifty yards in front of him Gavin saw the road end in a wall ofsoldiers. They were between him and the manse, and he was still indarkness. No sound reached him, save the echo of his own feet. But wasit an echo? He stopped, and turned round sharply. Now he heardnothing, he saw nothing. Yet was not that a human figure standingmotionless in the shadow behind?
He walked on, and again heard the sound. Again he looked behind, butthis time without stopping. The figure was following him. He stopped.So did it. He turned back, but it did not move. It was the Egyptian!
Gavin knew her, despite the lane of darkness, despite the long cloakthat now concealed even her feet, despite the hood over her head. Shewas looking quite respectable, but he knew her.
He neither advanced to her nor retreated. Could the unhappy girl notsee that she was walking into the arms of the soldiers? But doubtlessshe had been driven from all her hiding-places. For a moment Gavin hadit in his heart to warn her. But it was only for a moment. The next asudden horror shot through him. She was stealing toward him, so softlythat he had not seen her start. The woman had designs on him! Gavinturned from her. He walked so quickly that judges would have said heran.
The soldiers, I have said, stood in the dim light. Gavin had almostreached them, when a little hand touched his arm.
"Stop," cried the sergeant, hearing some one approaching, and thenGavin stepped out of the darkness with the gypsy on his arm.
"It is you, Mr. Dishart," said the sergeant, "and your lady?"
"I----," said Gavin.
His lady pinched his arm.
"Yes," she answered, in an elegant English voice that made Gavin stareat her, "but, indeed, I am sorry I ventured into the streets to-night.I thought I might be able to comfort some of these unhappy people,captain, but I could do little, sadly little."
"It is no scene for a lady, ma'am, but your husband has----. Did youspeak, Mr. Dishart?"
"Yes, I must inf----"
"My dear," said the Egyptian, "I quite agree with you, so we need notdetain the captain."
"I'm only a sergeant, ma'am."
"Indeed!" said the Egyptian, raising her pretty eyebrows, "and howlong are you to remain in Thrums, sergeant?"
"Only for a few hours, Mrs. Dishart. If this gypsy lassie had notgiven us so much trouble, we might have been gone by now."
"I HOPE YOU WILL CATCH HER, SERGEANT."]
"Ah, yes, I hope you will catch her, sergeant."
"Sergeant," said Gavin, firmly, "I must----"
"You must, indeed, dear," said the Egyptian, "for you are sadly tired.Good-night, sergeant."
"Your servant, Mrs. Dishart. Your servant, sir."
"But----," cried Gavin.
"Come, love," said the Egyptian, and she walked the distractedminister through the soldiers and up the manse road.
The soldiers left behind, Gavin flung her arm from him, and, standingstill, shook his fist in her face.
"You--you--woman!" he said.
This, I think, was the last time he called her a woman.
But she was clapping her hands merrily.
"It was beautiful!" she exclaimed.
"It was iniquitous!" he answered. "And I a minister!"
"You can't help that," said the Egyptian, who pitied all ministersheartily.
"No," Gavin said, misunderstanding her, "I could not help it. No blameattaches to me."
"I meant that you could not help being a minister. You could havehelped saving me, and I thank you so much."
"Do not dare to thank me. I forbid you to say that I saved you. I didmy best to hand you over to the authorities."
"Then why did you not hand me over?"
Gavin groaned.
"All you had to say," continued the merciless Egyptian, "was, 'This isthe person you are in search of.' I did not have my hand over yourmouth. Why did you not say it?"
"Forbear!" said Gavin, woefully.
"It must have been," the gypsy said, "because you r
eally wanted tohelp me."
"Then it was against my better judgment," said Gavin.
"I am glad of that," said the gypsy. "Mr. Dishart, I do believe youlike me all the time."
"Can a man like a woman against his will?" Gavin blurted out.
"Of course he can," said the Egyptian, speaking as one who knew. "Thatis the very nicest way to be liked."
Seeing how agitated Gavin was, remorse filled her, and she said in awheedling voice--
"It is all over, and no one will know."
Passion sat on the minister's brow, but he said nothing, for thegypsy's face had changed with her voice, and the audacious woman wasbecome a child.
"I am very sorry," she said, as if he had caught her stealing jam. Thehood had fallen back, and she looked pleadingly at him. She had theappearance of one who was entirely in his hands.
There was a torrent of words in Gavin, but only these trickledforth--
"I don't understand you."
"You are not angry any more?" pleaded the Egyptian.
"Angry!" he cried, with the righteous rage of one who when his leg isbeing sawn off is asked gently if it hurts him.
"I know you are," she sighed, and the sigh meant that men arestrange.
"Have you no respect for law and order?" demanded Gavin.
"Not much," she answered, honestly.
He looked down the road to where the red-coats were still visible, andhis face became hard. She read his thoughts.
"No," she said, becoming a woman again, "It is not yet too late. Whydon't you shout to them?"
She was holding herself like a queen, but there was no stiffness inher. They might have been a pair of lovers, and she the wronged one.Again she looked timidly at him, and became beautiful in a new way.Her eyes said that he was very cruel, and she was only keeping backher tears till he had gone. More dangerous than her face was hermanner, which gave Gavin the privilege of making her unhappy; itpermitted him to argue with her; it never implied that though he ragedat her he must stand afar off; it called him a bully, but did not endthe conversation.
Now (but perhaps I should not tell this) unless she is his wife a manis shot with a thrill of exultation every time a pretty woman allowshim to upbraid her.
"I do not understand you," Gavin repeated weakly, and the gypsy benther head under this terrible charge.
"Only a few hours ago," he continued, "you were a gypsy girl in afantastic dress, barefooted----"
The Egyptian's bare foot at once peeped out mischievously from beneaththe cloak, then again retired into hiding.
"You spoke as broadly," complained the minister, somewhat taken abackby this apparition, "as any woman in Thrums, and now you fling a cloakover your shoulders, and immediately become a fine lady. Who areyou?"
"Perhaps," answered the Egyptian, "it is the cloak that has bewitchedme." She slipped out of it. "Ay, ay, ou losh!" she said, as ifsurprised, "it was just the cloak that did it, for now I'm a puirignorant bit lassie again. My, certie, but claithes does make a differto a woman!"
This was sheer levity, and Gavin walked scornfully away from it.
"Yet, if you will not tell me who you are," he said, looking over hisshoulder, "tell me where you got the cloak."
"Na faags," replied the gypsy out of the cloak. "Really, Mr. Dishart,you had better not ask," she added, replacing it over her.
She followed him, meaning to gain the open by the fields to the northof the manse.
"Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand, "if you are not to give meup."
"I am not a policeman," replied Gavin, but he would not take herhand.
"Surely, we part friends, then?" said the Egyptian, sweetly.
"No," Gavin answered. "I hope never to see your face again."
"I cannot help," the Egyptian said, with dignity, "your not liking myface." Then, with less dignity, she added, "There is a splotch of mudon your own, little minister; it came off the divit you flung at thecaptain."
With this parting shot she tripped past him, and Gavin would not lethis eyes follow her. It was not the mud on his face that distressedhim, nor even the hand that had flung the divit. It was the word"little." Though even Margaret was not aware of it, Gavin's shortnesshad grieved him all his life. There had been times when he tried tokeep the secret from himself. In his boyhood he had sought a remedy bygetting his larger comrades to stretch him. In the company of tall menhe was always self-conscious. In the pulpit he looked darkly at hiscongregation when he asked them who, by taking thought, could add acubit to his stature. When standing on a hearthrug his heels werefrequently on the fender. In his bedroom he has stood on a footstooland surveyed himself in the mirror. Once he fastened high heels to hisboots, being ashamed to ask Hendry Munn to do it for him; but thisdishonesty shamed him, and he tore them off. So the Egyptian had put aneedle into his pride, and he walked to the manse gloomily.
"SURELY, WE PART FRIENDS, THEN?"]
Margaret was at her window, looking for him, and he saw her though shedid not see him. He was stepping into the middle of the road towave his hand to her, when some sudden weakness made him look towardsthe fields instead. The Egyptian saw him and nodded thanks for hisinterest in her, but he scowled and pretended to be studying the sky.Next moment he saw her running back to him.
"There are soldiers at the top of the field," she cried. "I cannotescape that way."
"There is no other way," Gavin answered.
"Will you not help me again?" she entreated.
She should not have said "again." Gavin shook his head, but pulled hercloser to the manse dyke, for his mother was still in sight.
"Why do you do that?" the girl asked, quickly, looking round to see ifshe were pursued. "Oh, I see," she said, as her eyes fell on thefigure at the window.
"It is my mother," Gavin said, though he need not have explained,unless he wanted the gypsy to know that he was a bachelor.
"Only your mother?"
"Only! Let me tell you she may suffer more than you for your behaviourto-night!"
"How can she?"
"If you are caught, will it not be discovered that I helped you toescape?"
"But you said you did not."
"Yes, I helped you," Gavin admitted. "My God! what would mycongregation say if they knew I had let you pass yourself off as--asmy wife?"
He struck his brow, and the Egyptian had the propriety to blush.
"It is not the punishment from men I am afraid of," Gavin said,bitterly, "but from my conscience. No, that is not true. I do fearexposure, but for my mother's sake. Look at her; she is happy, becauseshe thinks me good and true; she has had such trials as you cannotknow of, and now, when at last I seemed able to do something for her,you destroy her happiness. You have her life in your hands."
The Egyptian turned her back upon him, and one of her feet tappedangrily on the dry ground. Then, child of impulse as she always was,she flashed an indignant glance at him, and walked quickly down theroad.
"Where are you going?" he cried.
"To give myself up. You need not be alarmed; I will clear you."
There was not a shake in her voice, and she spoke without lookingback.
"Stop!" Gavin called, but she would not, until his hand touched hershoulder.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Why--" whispered Gavin, giddily, "why--why do you not hide in themanse garden?--No one will look for you there."
There were genuine tears in the gypsy's eyes now.
"You are a good man," she said; "I like you."
"Don't say that," Gavin cried in horror. "There is a summer-seat inthe garden."
"'WHAT DO YOU WANT?' SHE ASKED."]
Then he hurried from her, and without looking to see if she took hisadvice, hastened to the manse. Once inside, he snibbed the door.
