Complete Works of George Moore

by George Moore

  He was in capital spirits. The affairs in the shop were going on more satisfactorily than usual, a fact which he did not fail to attribute to his superior commercial talents. ‘A business like theirs went to the bad,’ he declared, ‘when there wasn’t a man to look after it. Women liked being attended to by one of the other sex,’ and beaming with artificial smiles, the little man measured out yards of ribbon, and suggested ‘that they had a very superior thing in the way of petticoats just come from Manchester.’ His health was also much improved, so much so that his asthmatic attack seemed to have done him good. A little colour flushed his cheeks around the edges of the thick beard. In the evenings after supper, when the shop was closed, an hour before they went up to prayers, he would talk of the sales he had made during the day, and speak authoritatively of the possibilities of enlarging the business. His ambition was to find someone in London who would forward them the latest fashions; somebody who would be clever enough to pick out and send them some stylish but simple dress that Kate could copy. He would work the advertisements, and if the articles were well set in the window he would answer for the rest. The great difficulty was, of course, the question of frontage, and Mr. Ede’s face grew grave as he thought of his little windows. ‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘can be done without plate-glass; five hundred pounds would buy out the fruit-seller, and throw the whole place into one’; and Kate, interested in all that was imaginative, would raise her eyes from the pages of her book and ask if there was no possibility of realizing this grand future.

  She was reading a novel full of the most singular and exciting scenes. In it she discovered a character who reminded her of her husband, a courtier at the Court of Louis XIV., who said sharp things, and often made himself disagreeable, but there was something behind that pleased, and under the influence of this fancy she began to find new qualities in Ralph, the existence of which she had not before suspected. Sometimes the thought struck her that if he had been always like what he was now she would have loved him better, and listening to a dispute which had arisen between him and his mother regarding the purchase of the fruiterer’s premises, her smile deepened, and then, the humour of the likeness continuing to tickle her, she burst out laughing.

  ‘What are you laughing at, Kate?’ said her husband, looking admiringly at her pretty face. Mrs. Ede sternly continued her knitting, but Ralph seemed so pleased, and begged so good-naturedly to be told what the matter was, that the temptation to do so grew irresistible.

  ‘You won’t be angry if I tell you?’

  ‘Angry, no. Why should I be angry?’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘Yes, I promise,’ replied Ralph, extremely curious.

  ‘Well then, there is a cha-cha-rac-ter so — so like — —’

  ‘Oh, if you want to tell me, don’t laugh like that. I can’t hear a word you’re saying.’

  ‘Oh it is so — so — so like — —’

  ‘Yes, but do stop laughing and tell me.’

  At last Kate had to stop laughing for want of breath, and she said, her voice still trembling:

  ‘Well, there’s a fellow in this book — you promise not to be angry?’

  ‘Oh yes, I promise.’

  ‘Well, then, there’s someone in this book that does remind me so much — of you — that is to say, when you’re cross, not as you are now.’

  At this announcement Mrs. Ede looked up in astonishment, and she seemed as hurt as if Kate had slapped her in the face, whereas Ralph’s face lighted up, his smile revealing through the heavy moustache the gap between his front teeth which had been filled with some white substance. Kate always noticed it with aversion, but Ralph, who was not susceptible to feminine revulsions of feelings, begged her to read the passage, and with an eagerness that surprised his mother. Without giving it a second thought she began, but she had not read half a dozen words before Mrs. Ede had gathered up her knitting and was preparing to leave the room.

  ‘Oh, mother, don’t go! I assure you there’s no harm.’

  ‘Leave her alone. I’m sick of all this nonsense about religion. I should like to know what harm we’re doing,’ said Ralph.

  Kate made a movement to rise, but he laid his hand upon her arm, and a moment after Mrs. Ede was gone.

  ‘Oh, do let me go and fetch her,’ exclaimed Kate. ‘I shouldn’t — I know I shouldn’t read these books. It pains her so much to see me wasting my time. She must be right.’

  ‘There’s no right about it; she’d bully us all if she had her way. Do be quiet, Kate! Do as I tell you, and let’s hear the story.’

  Relinquishing another half-hearted expostulation which rose to her lips, Kate commenced to read. Ralph was enchanted, and, deliciously tickled at the idea that he was like someone in print, he chuckled under his breath. Soon they came to the part that had struck Kate as being so particularly appropriate to her husband. It concerned a scene between this ascetic courtier and a handsome, middle-aged widow who frequently gave him to understand that her feelings regarding him were of the tenderest kind; but on every occasion he pretended to misunderstand her. The humour of the whole thing consisted in the innocence of the lady, who fancied she had not explained herself sufficiently; and harassed with this idea, she pursued the courtier from the Court hall into the illuminated gardens, and there told him, and in language that admitted of no doubt, that she wished to marry him. The courtier was indignant, and answered her so tartly that Kate, even in reading it over a second time, could not refrain from fits of laughter.

  ‘It is — is so — s-o like what you w-wo-uld say if a wo-wo-man were to fol-low you,’ she said, with the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘Is it really?’ asked Ralph, joining in the laugh, although in a way that did not seem to be very genuine. The fact was that he felt just a little piqued at being thought so indifferent to the charms of the other sex, and looked at his wife for a moment or two in a curious sort of way, trying to think how he should express himself. At last he said:

  ‘I’m sure that if it was my own Kate who was there I shouldn’t answer so crossly.’

  Kate ceased laughing, and looked up at him so suddenly that she increased his embarrassment; but the remembrance that he was after all only speaking to his wife soon came to his aid, and confidentially he sat down beside her on the sofa. Her first impulse was to draw away from him — it was so long since he had spoken to her thus.

  ‘Could you never love me again if I were very kind to you?’

  ‘Of course I love you, Ralph.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault if I was ill — one doesn’t feel inclined to love anyone in illness. Give me a kiss, dear.’

  A recollection of how she had kissed Dick flashed across her mind, but in an instant it was gone; and bending her head, she laid her lips to her husband’s. It in no way disgusted her to do so; she was glad of the occasion, and was only surprised at the dull and obtuse anxiety she experienced. They then spoke of indifferent things, but the flow of conversation was often interrupted by complimentary phrases. While Ralph discoursed on his mother’s nonsense in always dragging religion into everything, Kate congratulated him on looking so much better; and, as she told him of the work she would have to get through at all costs before Friday, he either squeezed her hand or said that her hair was getting thicker, longer, and more beautiful than ever.

  * * * * *

  Next morning Kate received a letter from Dick, saying he was coming to Hanley on his return visit, and hoped that he would be able to have his old rooms.

  IX

  SHE WOULD HAVE liked to talk to Hender first, but Hender would not arrive for another hour, and nothing had ever seemed to her so important as that Dick should lodge with them. It was therefore with bated breath that she waited for Ralph to speak. They could not hope, he said, to find a nicer lodger; the little he had seen of him made him desirous of renewing the acquaintance, and he continued all through breakfast to eulogize Mr. Lennox. His mother, whose opinions were attacked, sat munching her bread and b
utter with indifference. But it was not permitted to anyone to be indifferent to Ralph’s wishes, and, determined to resent the impertinence, he derisively asked his mother if she had any objections.

  ‘You’ve a right to do what you like with your rooms; but I should like to know why you so particularly want this actor here. One would think he was a dear friend of yours to hear you talk. Is it the ten shillings a week he pays for his room and the few pence you make out of his breakfast you’re hankering after?’

  ‘Of course I want to keep my rooms let. Perhaps you might like to have them yourself; you could have all the clergymen in the town to see you once a week, and a very nice tea-party you’d make in the sitting-room.’ Nor was this all; he continued to badger his mother with the bitterest taunts he could select. Quite calmly Kate watched him work himself into a passion, until he declared that he had other reasons more important than the ten shillings a week for wishing to have Mr. Lennox staying in the house. This statement caused Kate just a pang of uneasiness, and she begged for an explanation. Partly to reward her for having backed him up in the discussion, and through a wish to parade his own far-seeing views, he declared that Mr. Lennox might be of great use to them in their little business if he were so inclined. Kate could not repress a look of triumph; she knew now that nothing would keep him from having Dick in the house.

  ‘Shall I write to him to-day, then, and say that we can let him have the rooms from next Monday?’

  ‘Of course,’ Ralph replied, and Kate went upstairs with Hender, who had just come in. The little girls were told to move aside; there was a lot of cutting to be done; this was said preparatory to telling them a little later on that they were too much in the way, and would have to go down and work in the front kitchen under the superintendence of Mrs. Ede. Hender was at the machine, but Kate, who had a dressing-gown on order, unrolled the blue silk and fidgeted round the table as if she had not enough room for laying out her pattern-sheets. Hender noticed these manoeuvres with some surprise, and when Kate said, ‘Now, my dear children, I’m afraid you’re very much in my way; you’d better go downstairs,’ she looked up with the expression of one who expects to be told a secret. This manifest certitude that something was coming troubled Kate, and she thought it would be better after all to say nothing about Mr. Lennox, but again changing her mind, she said, assuming an air of indifference:

  ‘Mr. Lennox will be here on Monday. I’ve just got a letter from him.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad; for perhaps this time it will be possible to have one spree on the strict q.t.’

  Kate was thinking of exactly the same thing, but Miss Hender’s crude expression took the desire out of her heart, and she remained silent.

  ‘I’m sure it’s for you he’s coming,’ said the assistant. ‘I know he likes you; I could see it in his eyes. You can always see if a man likes you by his eyes.’

  Although it afforded Kate a great deal of pleasure to think that Dick liked her, it was irritating to hear his feelings for her discussed; she could not forget she was a married woman, and she began to regret that she ever mentioned the subject at all, when Miss Hender said:

  ‘But what’s the use of his coming if you can’t get out? A man always expects a girl to be able to go out with him. The “hag” is sure to be about, and even if you did manage to give her the slip, there’s your husband. Lord! I hadn’t thought of that before. What damned luck! Don’t you wish he’d get ill again? Another fit of asthma would suit us down to the ground.’

  The blood rushed to Kate’s face, and snapping nervously with the scissors in the air, she said:

  ‘I don’t know how you can bring yourself to speak in that way. How can you think that I would have my husband ill so that I might go to the theatre with Mr. Lennox? What do you fancy there is between us that makes you say such a thing as that?’

  ‘Oh, I really don’t know,’ Miss Hender answered with a toss of her head; ‘if you’re going to be hoighty-toighty I’ve done.’

  Kate thought it very provoking that Hender could never speak except coarsely, and it would have given her satisfaction to have said something sharp, but she had let Hender into a good many of her secrets, and it would be most inconvenient to have her turn round on her. Not, indeed, that she supposed she’d be wicked enough to do anything of the kind, but still ——

  And influenced by these considerations, Kate determined not to quarrel with Hender, but to avoid speaking to her of Dick. Even with her own people she maintained an attitude of shy reserve until Dick arrived, declining on all occasions to discuss the subject, whether with her husband or mother-in-law. ‘I don’t care whether he comes or not; decide your quarrels as you like, I’ve had enough of them,’ was her invariable answer. This air of indifference ended by annoying Ralph, but she was willing to do that if it saved her from being forced into expressing an opinion — that was the great point; for with a woman’s instinct she had already divined that she would not be left out of the events of the coming week. But there was still another reason. She was a little ashamed of her own treachery. Otherwise her conscience did not trouble her; it was crushed beneath a weight of desire and expectancy, and for three or four days she moved about the house in a dream. When she met her husband on the stairs and he joked her about the roses in her cheeks, she smiled curiously, and begged him to let her pass. In the workroom she was happy, for the mechanical action of sewing allowed her to follow the train of her dreams, and drew the attention of those present away from her. She had tried her novels, but now the most exciting failed to fix her thoughts. The page swam before her eyes, a confusion of white and black dots, the book would fall upon her lap in a few minutes, and she would relapse again into thinking of what Dick would say to her, and of the hours that still separated them. On Sunday, without knowing why, she insisted on attending all the services. Ralph in no way cared for this excessive devotion, and he proposed to take her for a walk in the afternoon, but she preferred to accompany Mrs. Ede to church. It loosened the tension of her thoughts to raise her voice in the hymns, and the old woman’s gabble was pleasant to listen to on their way home — a sort of meaningless murmur in her ears while she was thinking of Dick, whom she might meet on the doorstep. It was, however, his portmanteau that they caught sight of in the passage when they opened the door. Ralph had taken it in; Lennox said that he had a lot of business to do with the acting manager, and would not return before they went up to prayers. Still Kate did not lose hope, and on the off chance that he might feel tired after his journey, and come home earlier than he expected, she endeavoured to prolong the conversation after supper. By turns she spoke to Mrs. Ede of the sermons of the day, and to Ralph of the possibilities of enlarging the shop-front. But when she was forced to hear how the actor was to send them the new fashions from London, the old lady grew restive, as did Ralph when the conversation turned on the relative merits of the morning and afternoon sermon. It was the old story of the goat and the cabbage — each is uneasy in the other’s company; and even before the usual time mother and son agreed that it would be better to say prayers and get to bed.

  Kate would have given anything to see Dick that night, and she lay awake for hours listening for the sound of the well-known heavy footstep. At last it came, tramp, tramp, a dull, heavy, noisy flapping through the silence of the house. She trembled, fearing that he would mistake the door and come into their room; if he did, she felt she would die of shame. The footsteps approached nearer, nearer; her husband was snoring loudly, and, casting a glance at him, she wondered if she should have time to push the bolt to. But immediately after, Dick stumbled up the stairs into his room, and, hugging the thought that he was again under her roof, she fell to dreaming of their meeting in the morning, wondering if it would befall her to meet him on the stairs or in the shop face to face, or if she would catch sight of him darting out of the door hurrying to keep an appointment which he had already missed. Mrs. Ede usually took in the lodger’s hot water, it not being considered quite right for Kate to go
into a gentleman’s room when he was in bed. But the next morning Mrs. Ede was out and Ralph was asleep, so there was nothing for it but to fill the jug.

  Dick heard the door open, but didn’t trouble to look round, thinking it was Mrs. Ede, and Kate glided to the washhandstand and put down the jug in the basin. But the clink of the delf caused him to look round.

  ‘Oh, is that you, Kate?’ he said, brushing aside with a wave of his bare arm his frizzly hair. ‘I didn’t expect to see so pretty a sight first thing in the morning. And how have you been?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you, sir,’ Kate replied, retreating.

  ‘Well, I don’t see why you should run away like that. What have I done to offend you? You know,’ he said, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, ‘I didn’t write to you about the poetry you sent me (at least, I suppose it was from you, it had the Hanley post-mark; if it wasn’t, I’ll burn it), because I was afraid that your old mother or your husband might get hold of my letter.’

  ‘I must go away now, sir; your hot water is there,’ she said, looking towards the door, which was ajar.

  ‘But tell me, wasn’t it you who sent me the verses? I have them here, and I brought you a little something — I won’t tell you what — in return.’

  ‘I can’t talk to you now,’ said Kate, casting on him one swift glance of mingled admiration and love. Although somewhat inclined to corpulence, he was a fine man, and looked a tower of strength as he lay tossed back on the pillows, his big arms and thick brown throat bare. A flush rose to her cheeks when he said that he had brought her a little something; all the same, it was impossible to stop talking to him now, and hoping to make him understand her position, raising her voice, she said: