by George Moore
This assurance Dick considered would amply satisfy the old dame, and holding the portmanteau on his shoulder with one arm, and supporting Kate with the other, he made his way to the station.
The day had not yet begun to break. A heavy, sluggish night hung over the town. The streets were filled with puddles and flowing mud; and Kate was frequently obliged to stop and rest against the lamp-posts. She complained of feeling very ill, and she walked with difficulty. In the straggling light of the gas, Dick looked at her pale, pretty features, accentuated by suffering; he felt that he had never known before how dearly he loved her, and the pity for her that filled his heart choked him when he attempted to speak: and his eyes misted with tears and he could not bring his mind to leave her. He thought of the old dodge of travelling on the luggage, but fearing that the woman to whose house they were going would not let them in unless they had at least one portmanteau to show, he determined to adhere to the original plan of sending Kate on in front; and although tortured by many fears, he hid them, assuring her that their troubles would be over once they set foot in Manchester: all he had to do was to go down to the Theatre Royal to get an engagement. And he spoke so kindly that his kindness seemed to repay her for her sufferings.
For some days past she had been subject to violent nauseas and acute pains, and as she bade him goodbye out of the railway-carriage window, she had to bend and press herself against it. And feeling he must encourage her he ran along the platform till the train began to leave him behind, and he stopped out of breath with a cloud of melancholy upon his cheeks, generally so restful in a happy animalism — yet the fat hand lifted the big-brimmed black felt hat, the frizzly curls blew in the cold wind, the train oscillated and then rolled and disappeared round a bend in the line.
That was all. What had been done was over, as completely as the splash made by a stone dropped into a well, and the actor awoke to a feeling that something new had again to be begun.
After descending the steps of the station, he asked to be directed, and for a long time his way lay through a street, made by red brick houses with stucco porches; but at length these commenced to divide into cottages, and after many inquiries, he was shown into what he was told was an old Roman road, called ‘Going over Tindel.’ The wind blew bitterly, and against a murky sky the fretted trees on the higher ridges were like veils of grey lace.
Walking was not Dick’s forte, and leaning against a farm gate, his eyes embraced the wild black scenery, and remembrances of the Hanley hills drifted through his thoughts. There were the same rolling wastes, and like the pieces on a chess-board the factory chimneys appeared at irregular intervals. But these topographical similarities attracted Dick only so far as they filled his mind with old memories and associations, and his thoughts flowed from the time he had stood with his wife at the top of Market Street to the present hour. He neither praised nor blamed himself. He accepted things as they were without criticism, and they appeared to him like a turgid dream swollen and bleak as the confused expanse of distance before him.
The stupor into which he occasionally fell endured until a quick thought would strike through the mental gloom that oppressed him, and relinquishing the farm gate he would moodily resume his walk through the heavy slosh of the wet roads. As he did so the vision of Kate’s pain-stricken face haunted him, and at every step his horror of the danger she ran of being taken ill before arriving in Manchester grew darker, and he toiled up hill after hill, yearning to be near her, desiring only the power to relieve and to help. Often the intensity of his longing would force him into a run, and then the farm labourers would turn from their work to gaze on this huge creature, who stood on a hill-top wearily wiping his forehead.
And then he grew sick of the long, staring, rolling landscape, with its thousand sinuosities, its single trees, its detailed foreground of scrub, hedges, brooks, spanned by small brick bridges, the melting distance, the murky sky, the belching chimneys: he asked himself if it would never end, if it would never define itself into the streets of Manchester. And as he descended each incline his eyes searched for the indication of a town, until at last he saw lines of smoke, factories, and masses of brick on his left, and he hastened.
All the markings of the way were looked forward to, the outlying streets seemed endless, and so great was his hurry that before he discovered he was in Oldham, he had walked into the middle of the town.
His disappointment was bitter indeed, almost unbearable, and for the moment he felt that he could go no farther; his courage was exhausted, it was impossible he could face that bleak mocking landscape again. Besides, he was fainting for want of food. Had he possessed a few pence to treat himself to a glass of beer and a bit of bread and cheese, he thought he would be able to pull himself together and make another effort; but he was destitute. Still, he was forced to try again. The thought of Kate burned in his brain, and after having inquired the way, with weary and aching feet he once more trudged manfully on. A fretful suspicion now haunted him that she might not find the landlady as agreeable as would under the circumstances be desirable, and he reasoned with himself as he crossed into the open country, until anxiety became absorbed by fatigue. Of every passer-by did he ask the way, and as he passed the stately villas Dick felt that had there been much farther to walk he would have had to beg a lift from one of the waggoners who passed him constantly driving their heavy teams. But he was now in Manchester, and wondering if he had taken longer to walk than he had expected, he looked into the shop windows in search of a clock, and when he rang at the door of the lodging-house his heart beat as rapidly as the jangling bell that pealed through the house The maid who answered the door told him that she knew of no such person and was about to shut the door in his face, but Dick’s good-natured smile compelled her into parley, and she admitted that, having been out on an errand, she had not seen the missus since ten o’clock. A lady might have called, but she wasn’t in the house now; they were as full as they could hold.
‘And are you certain that a lady might have called about ten or half-past without your having seen her?’
‘I was out on a herrant at that time, so I’m sure she might, for missus wouldn’t mind to tell me if I wasn’t to get rooms ready for her.’
‘And what would your mistress do in the case of not being able to supply a lady with rooms?’
‘I should think she would send round to Mrs. —— well — I don’t remember right the name.’
‘Do you know the address?’
‘I know it’s behind the station, one of those streets where — nay — but I don’t think I could direct you right.’
‘Then what shall I do?’
‘Missus will be in shortly. If you’ll take a seat in the ‘all — I can’t ask you into any other room, they’re all occupied.’
There was nothing to do but to accept, and after having asked when the landlady might be expected in, and receiving the inevitable ‘Really couldn’t say for certain, sir, but I don’t think she’ll be long,’ he sat down in a chair, weary and footsore; there were times when struck by a sudden thought he would make a movement as if to start from his seat; but instantly remembering his own powerlessness, he would slip back into his attitude of heavy fatigue. In the dining-room the clock ticked, and he listened to the passing of the minutes, tortured by the idea that his wife was suffering, dying, and that he was not near to help, to assist, to assuage. He forgot that they were penniless, homeless; all was lost in a boundless pity, and he listened to the footsteps growing sharper as they approached, and duller as they went. At last the sound of the latchkey was heard in the lock, and Dick started to his feet. It was the landlady.
‘Have you seen my wife?’
‘Yes, sir,’ exclaimed the astonished woman; ‘she was here this morning; all our rooms are let, so I couldn’t — —’
‘Where has she gone to, do you know?’
‘Well, sir, I was going to say, she asked me if I could recommend her to some quiet place, and I sent her to Mrs. Hurl
ey’s.’
‘And will you give me Mrs. Hurley’s address?’
‘Yes, sir, certainly; but if I may make so bold, you’re looking very tired — may I offer you a glass of beer? And Mrs. Lennox is looking very bad too, she is—’
‘I’m much obliged, but I’ve no time; if you’d give me the address….’
No sooner were the words spoken than, forgetful of his aching feet, Dick rushed away, and dodging the passers-by he ran until he laid hands on the knocker and bell in question.
‘Is Mrs. Lennox staying here?’ he asked of the lady who opened the door.
‘There was a lady of that name who inquired for rooms here this morning.’
‘And isn’t she here? Why didn’t she take the rooms?’
‘Well, sir, she said she was expecting to be confined, and I didn’t care to have illness in my house.’
‘You don’t mean to tell me that you turned her out? Oh, you atrocious — ! If you were a man….’
Overpowered with rage he stopped for words, and the woman, fearing he would strike her, strove to shut the door. But Dick, with his thick leg, prevented her, and at this moment they were joined by the maid, who screamed over her mistress’s shoulder:
‘The lady said she would come round here in a couple o’ hours’ time to ask for you, and I advised her to try for rooms at No. 28 in this street. You’ll find her there.’
This was enough for Dick, and loosing his hold on the door he made off; streets, carriages, passers-by, whirled before his eyes.
‘Is Mrs. Lennox here?’ he asked so roughly when the door was opened, that the maid regretted having said yes as soon as the word had passed her lips.
‘On what floor?’
‘The first, sir; but you’d better let me go up first. Mrs. Lennox is not very well; she’s expecting her husband.’
‘I’m her husband.’
And on that Dick rushed at the staircase. A few strides brought him on to the first landing; but a sudden disappointment seized him — the sitting-room was empty. Thinking instantly of the bedroom, he flung open the door, and there he saw Kate sitting on the edge of the bed rocking herself to and fro. She rose to her feet and the expression of weary pain was changed to one of joy as she fell into Dick’s arms.
‘I thought you’d never come, and they would take me in nowhere.’
‘Yes, my darling, I know all about it; I know all.’
He laid kisses on the rich black-blue hair and the pale tired face; he felt light hands resting on him; she felt strong arms clasped about her, and each soul seemed to be but the reflection of the other, just as the sky and the sea are when the sun is at its meridian.
Then, at this brief but ineffable moment of spiritual unison faded words returned to them, and Kate spoke of all she had suffered. She whispered the story she had told the landlady, and how she had ordered a big dinner, and everything of the best, so that they might not be suspected of being hard up. Dick approved of these arrangements; but just as he smacked his lips, a foretaste of the leg of mutton in his mouth, Kate uttered a sort of low cry, and turning pale, pressed her hands to her side. A sharp pain had suddenly run through her, and as quickly died away; but a few minutes after this was succeeded by another, which lasted longer and gripped her more acutely. Supporting her tenderly he helped her across the room and laid her on the bed. There she seemed to experience some relief; but very soon she was again seized by the most acute pangs. It seemed to her that she was bound about with a buckler of iron, and frightened Dick rang for the landlady. The worthy woman saw at a glance what was happening, and sent him off, weary as he was, to fetch a doctor and the needful assistance.
XXII
THE DOCTOR AND nurse arrived almost simultaneously and passed into the sick-room, bidding Dick, who came running upstairs a moment after, be of good cheer. The mummer took his hat from his head and stood for a moment staring vacantly at the bedroom door, as if striving to read there the secrets of life, birth, and death. Then he remembered how tired he was, and with a large movement of fatigue he sat down on the sofa. A gloomy yellow sky filled the room with an oppressive and mournful twilight, and to relieve his aching feet Dick had kicked off his shoes, and with his folded arms pressed against his stomach he sat hour after hour, too hungry to sleep, listening to the low moaning that came through the chinks of the door. He appeared to be totally forgotten; voices whispered on the staircase, people passed hurriedly through the sitting-room, but none asked him if he wanted anything: no one even noticed him, and when the landlady lighted the gas she uttered a cry of astonishment, as if she had discovered an intruder in the room.
‘Oh, lawks! Mr. Lennox, we’d forgotten all about you, and you sittin’ there so quiet. But your wife is getting on nice; she has just had a cup of beef-tea: in about another couple of hours it will be all over.’
‘Is she suffering much?’
‘Well, sir, yes, I wouldn’t consider it an easy confinement; but I think it will be all right: you’ll see your wife and child alive and well to-morrow morning.’
Dick could not help doubting the truth of the woman’s statement unless she came to his assistance with food. Although almost starving, he was afraid to call for dinner lest she should ask him for some money in advance, but at that moment a cramp seized him, and turning pale he had to lean over the table to suppress the moan which rose to his lips.
‘What’s the matter, sir? You look quite ill,’ the woman asked.
‘Oh, ’twas only a sudden pain,’ Dick said, making an effort to recover himself. ‘I’ve eaten nothing all day — have had no time, you know.’
‘Then we shall have you laid up as well as your wife, and there’s the leg of mutton she ordered stewing away all these hours. I’m afraid you won’t be able to eat it?’
Absurd as the question appeared to him, Dick answered adroitly:
‘It will do very well, if you’ll bring it up as soon as you can; I may have to go out.’
This was intended as a ruse to deceive the landlady, for so tired was he that had it been to save Kate’s life he did not think he would have walked downstairs. He could think of nothing but putting something into his stomach, and hard and dry as the mutton was it seemed to him the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. His pain melted away with the first mouthful, and the glass of beer ran through and warmed his entire system. Down the great throat the victuals disappeared as if by magic, and the unceasing cry that seemed now to fill the entire house passed almost unheeded.
For a moment he would listen pityingly, and then like an animal return to his food. He cut slice after slice from the joint, and as his hunger seemed to grow upon him he thought he could finish it, and even longed to take the bone in his hand and pick it with his teeth; but he reasoned with himself; it would not do to let the landlady suspect they had no money, and as he gazed at the last potato, which he was afraid to eat, he considered what he should say in apology for his appetite; but as he sought for a nice phrase, something pleasantly facetious, he remembered that he would have to find money and at once; he must have some no later than to-morrow. There were a thousand things that would have to be paid for — the baby’s clothes, the cradle, the — he tried to think of what was generally wanted under such circumstances, but the cries in the next room, which had gradually swelled into shrieks, appalled him, and involuntarily the thought struck him that there might be a funeral to pay for as well as a birth.
At that moment the bell tinkled, and the maid came running up. She carried a jug of hot water and flannels in her hand, and pushing past him she declared that she hadn’t a moment. The door of the bedroom was ajar; a fire burned, candles flared on the mantelpiece, a basin stood on the floor, and at times nothing was heard but a long moan, mingling with the murmuring voices of the doctor and nurse.
