As Eden watched her he felt repelled. Her short strong figure with its ungraceful movements, her damp hair flat on her forehead, her face blotched by passion gave him a feeling almost of repugnance. He passed his tongue over his dry lips and sought for something to say, but could find nothing. That did not matter. He was the focus of Amy Stroud’s dramatization of herself. His mere presence was sufficient.
He had ceased to listen to what she was saying. He began to feel tired and dejected. He wanted only to get away.
She came to him and put her arms about him.
“You must come and lie down,” she said. “I’ll read to you. We’ll put all this out of our minds. Tomorrow they will be gone!” Her eyes turned toward the partition as if she had a mind to return to Dayborn and repeat her eviction. From the other house came the sound of Tod’s laughter, rising and falling like a bird’s song.
Eden said — “I can’t stay. There’d be the devil to pay. There’s no use in our making things worse than they are. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
He made her see the reason of this. He found himself out in the rain again. He was pushing his bicycle, for it would have been impossible to ride in the downpour that had now set in. The rain came down savagely, as though after a prolonged drought. Eden pulled his hat over his eyes and plodded dejectedly homeward. It seemed to him that days had passed since he had risen that morning.
He put his bicycle in its place and went into the house. The voices of his grandmother and uncles came from the sitting room. Rags was laying the table for the one o’clock dinner. Eden went softly up the stairs. As he passed the door of Renny’s room, Renny came out of it and they were face to face.
Renny stared at him astounded. “What are you back for?”
“I didn’t go. I couldn’t. I wasn’t well. There’s something wrong with my shoulder.” His eyes fell. His lips trembled.
“What’s wrong with your shoulder? Do you mean that I hurt it?”
“I don’t know. Something has. I can’t lift my arm. I’m going to lie down.”
“I’ll have a look at it.”
He followed Eden into his room. Eden felt ready to sob with self-pity. He winced as he took off his dripping coat and hat and threw them on a chair. He undressed. He was wet through.
“There’s nothing wrong with your shoulder,” Renny said, after examining it.
It seemed to Eden that Amy Stroud’s kisses might well have left a visible mark. But there were only the marks of Renny’s fingers. He put on his dressing gown and lay on the bed.
Renny looked down at him curiously. The boy did not look sullen. He did look ill. Well, he was one of the highly-strung sort. Let him sleep it off. No use in being too hard on him. He unfolded the quilt that lay on the foot of the bed and threw it over Eden. He said:
“I’ll send Rags up with some lunch.”
“I don’t want any.”
“Rot! Of course you want something.”
“I tell you I don’t want anything!”
Eden’s voice broke. He threw himself across the bed, his face to the wall. Sobs shook him. Renny looked down on him, biting his lip. Then he said, not unkindly:
“I hope this means that it’s all over between you and that woman.”
Eden did not answer. The gong sounded. Renny went slowly down the stairs.
XIX
HOSPITALITY
DAYBORN SAT SIPPING a glass of steaming toddy, a faded travelling rug about his shoulders, his eyes watering, and his usually pale face flushed and feverish. A cold was prevalent in the neighbourhood and he had got it. He had been forced to return from the stables. Tod also had the cold and Chris had not dared take him out that morning. She looked from one to the other in dismay. How was she possibly going to get ready to move the next day, and where could she find shelter for them?
In the months in this house, she and Dayborn had indiscriminately thrust whatever was at hand in the nearest drawer, or tossed on to a cupboard shelf. Her housekeeping had been of the sketchiest, partly from lack of means, partly because, when she came home from the stable, she was tired out and had a tired baby to bathe and put to bed. Dayborn was incorrigibly untidy, leaving his clothes in a heap wherever he took them off. He knew no order but Chris sometimes had a longing for it. She repeated what she had time and again said in the last two hours:
“What can have happened?”
“The woman is mad, I tell you. It’s just come to a head.”
“Nonsense. It was something you did.”
“Good Lord! Have I got to hear that again! I’ve done nothing. But you’ll heap the blame on me till the end of time.”
She scowled, and went on with the sorting of things in suitcases. There was silence, except for Tod’s small chucklings over his building bricks and his occasional sneezes. Then Dayborn asked sarcastically:
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I don’t know.” There was a childish tremor in her voice.
Dayborn looked at her inquisitively. Was she going to cry? But she bent her head so that her straight fair hair fell across her eyes. Tod came and offered her a brick with a picture of a duck on it, as though to comfort her.
“Thanks, Tod,” she smiled at him.
Delighted, he trotted back to his bricks and examined them carefully, that he might choose the next best one for Dayborn. He chose one with a bear on it. He trotted to Dayborn’s knee and offered it timidly.
“A bear!” laughed Dayborn. “A bear with a sore head. That’s me all right.”
Tod clapped his hands with joy at his good choice.
“What a pity,” said Chris, “that Renny is in town. He’d do something.”
“He may be back. Look here, you had better go to Jalna right away. If he isn’t there you can leave a message for him.”
“Right. I’ll do that.” She rose, eager to do something different. “Look after Tod. Don’t fall asleep.”
The idea of his being able to sleep, in his disturbed state of mind, inflamed Dayborn’s irascible temper. He did not stop talking till Chris was out of the house. Even after she had banged the door, he told Tod a few home truths about her. Tod, listening with great gravity, laid one brick on top of another with the air of a builder who would say — “This will endure for ever.”
Chris was glad to be out under the sky, even though it sent rain and wind to drench and buffet her. She bent her head and tramped doggedly along the road through the deepening puddles. The grass at the roadside was sodden. Even the strong goldenrod drooped and its plumes took on a brownish colour. A branch of an elm was blown down and lay across the road. Chris thought of her life in England, in the States and Canada. Looking back over it, it seemed a long life, long and meaningless. The best thing in it had been Tod. She had felt somehow settled in this place. It had seemed that at last she had a corner that she could call her own, real friends. No one could have been kinder to her than Mrs. Stroud had been. Yet today she had looked formidable in her hate, even frightening. She must have looked frightening or Jim would not have gone white as a sheet. Well, she was an enemy now and no mistake! Chris wanted nothing so much as to leave her house.
As she neared Jalna, her heart leaped ahead of her. She longed for the sight of Renny and for Launceton too. Tod, Renny and Launceton. She smiled as she thought of the contrast between the three beings she loved. Yet they had one quality in common. There was a reliability, a staunchness, like a hard glowing kernel in the heart of each. Surely Tod was a reliable baby, if ever there was one! Surely Renny was staunch and would never turn against her. The very thought of him brought him so close that she could almost feel him walking beside her, feel his hand on her arm giving her courage, and how much more beside! And Launceton — what a horse he was! Not only powerful and swift but as true as steel. You could do anything with that horse. The thought of him brought him close too. She could feel him between her knees, gathering himself together for a jump, rising, bounding over the barrier like a buck!
In the stable yard she met Scotchmere. He wore a rubber cape and his face was screwed in misery. This weather gave him rheumatism.
“Hello,” she said. “Is the boss back yet?”
“No. But he’s on his way. He telephoned half an hour ago. Ain’t this weather terrible?”
“You bet. I think I’ll wait for him in the stable.”
“You’re looking peaky. What’s the matter?”
“Scotchmere, don’t tell any of the others. But Mrs. Stroud is on her high horse again. We’ve got to move out tomorrow and I’m damned if I know where we’re going. To make it worse, my brother and the baby have colds.”
“So you’re turned out and have sickness too! It was me that told Jim to go home. And the poor little feller, he’s caught it, has he? You’ll be the next. Don’t you get sick. Golly, your face don’t look much bigger than my hand now!”
As they turned toward the stables, Scotchmere suddenly stopped. “I’ve got an idea. There’s empty rooms over the garage. It’s to be turned into a flat for one of the married hands. But money’s been too scarce to finish it. You could put your furniture in there and make shift until something better turns up. Come, and I’ll show you.” He led the way.
Chris was delighted with the rooms. The fact that they were cold, the windows veiled in cobwebs and that there was no bathroom, mattered nothing. It was a haven. She and Scotchmere were as excited as two children over the project.
While they were still there, Renny returned. He came running up the steep narrow stairway. His face lighted when he saw Chris. She told him what had happened and of Scotchmere’s suggestion. He looked dubious.
“But it’s a wretched hole,” he exclaimed.
“It looks lovely to me. And I’m used to discomfort. I’ll set right to work to clean it.” She began to take off her short leather coat, then added — “That is, if you’ll let me have it?”
“Of course you can have it. But don’t take off your coat. One of the men will come in and clean it. Go and send one of them, Scotchmere.”
Scotchmere disappeared down the stairway.
“How could you think I would let you undertake such a job?” he asked reproachfully. He put his hands inside her coat against the warmth of her body, and pressed her to him. “Give me a kiss, Kit.”
She kissed him with passion, clinging to him as though desperately. He said:
“You must come to the house. My sister will give you tea.”
“Will she? How nice of her!”
She walked about the bare rooms. “This looks heavenly to me. And there’ll be no rent to pay, will there? I wonder why Mrs. Stroud went off the deep end like this, after being peaceable for weeks.”
“To get even with me. I had an interview with Eden in front of her. It upset her.”
“Anyhow, we’ve got a roof over our heads. If only Jim and Tod hadn’t got those colds!”
Her head drooped, as though from the weight of her responsibilities.
“Come along,” he said, almost impatiently, “you must have some tea.”
The house was very warm. The thick walls and drawn curtains, the sound of talk and laughter, the three dogs stretched on the floor about the glowing stove, gave a sense of remoteness, not only from the stormy weather but from the outside world. Chris thought — “It feels as safe as a church here and as hot as Hades. I suppose that’s for the old lady’s sake. It’s funny, but Renny looks as natural here as he does in the stables.” She said:
“What a good laugh that man has!”
“That’s Uncle Nicholas. Come into the sitting room. I’ll find Meg. Then we’ll have tea.”
He left her and returned with his sister. She shook Chris warmly by the hand. She was being a kind sister for Renny had asked her, for his sake, to be her nicest to Chris.
“I hear you’ve got to move,” she said. “What a nuisance! And in such weather! They say it’s going to last for weeks.” Her blue eyes looked serenely into the girl’s amber ones. Chris thought, — “How matronly her body is and how young and innocent her face! I’ll bet I look like a hag beside her.”
“Renny’s been telling me,” Meg was saying, “that your baby and your brother both have colds. They must not be exposed. You must stay with us while you settle in the flat. You and the baby can sleep in the spare room and we’ll fix up your brother somehow. There’s an attic room with a cot bed in it. Do you think he’d mind that?”
“Oh, how kind of you!” Chris’s mouth was distorted like a child’s who is trying to keep from crying. “I never was so kindly treated in my life. Are you sure we shan’t put you out terribly?”
“Not at all. I’d love to have you.”
Renny beamed at his sister. She stood firmly, her unclouded brow the soul of magnanimity. Chris felt like imploring, — “Take me in! Keep me — let me be one of you!” But to be one of them she knew she would have to begin her life over again. With all their hospitality she felt that their circle was somehow impervious.
They went into the drawing room. The grandmother sat close to the leaping fire, a beaded fire screen protecting her face from its heat. Ernest was seated by a table, changing old photographs from one album to another. Nicholas was recalling amusing incidents of his past life in London for his mother’s benefit. Rags had just carried in the tea. Meg bent and whispered in Adeline’s ear. She turned to Chris, showing her double row of artificial teeth in a benign grin.
“So you’re coming to stay for a while,” she said. “That’s good — I like visitors.”
XX
SWIFT CURRENTS
THE FOLLOWING DAY Eden remained in his room. He had drawn the bed across the window so that he might be looking into the trees and across the fields. Little of them was visible beyond the blur of the rain. The old cedar tree outside his window had taken on an unnatural dark green as though it were turned into some fabulous water plant. When the rain lessened he sometimes could see the stables or glimpse the bent figure of a groom.
He was in a mood of deep dejection. He felt lonely in his spirit and that, in his life, he was going to be a failure. When he considered the poetry he had written it seemed to him worthless. He looked forward to the study of law with abhorrence. No study of any kind attracted him. In any profession he would be trapped and futile. He felt that downstairs the family was talking him over. He imagined his Uncle Nick saying, — “Gave the boy a good shaking, did you? Just what he needed, by gad!”
He lay hour after hour, staring out of the window, feeling himself impotent to grapple with life. He wished he might go away to some foreign place. He thought with longing of Paris, of Athens, of Rome. Would he ever see Rome? He was convinced that he would see nothing, but drag out his life misunderstood and alone. All the others would live to be old, old like Gran, but he would die young. For a time the thought of death possessed him. He wished he might will himself to die at this moment. They would come to his room and find him lying pale and still, his unseeing eyes fixed on the window. After his death, Meg would keep his few manuscripts in her own desk, for the sake of sentiment. Years later someone, perhaps young Finch, would find them and discover something poignant and deeply touching in the immature poems.
He could not bear to think of Amy Stroud. Her sudden exhibition of violence, her changed face, coarsened almost beyond recognition, her amorous kisses on his shoulder, had shocked something fastidious in him. He felt afraid of her.
When Meg told him that Dayborn and Chris had come to Jalna he pictured Amy Stroud alone in that house. She would be expecting him but he would not, could not, go to her. He heard Dayborn coughing and shuddered. How he hated the sound of coughing!
Meg told Renny that Eden was listless and looked feverish. Should they send for the doctor? Was Renny sure that he had not injured him?
“The shaking I gave him wouldn’t have injured Wakefield. He’s just feeling sorry for himself. Let him sulk for a day or two. He’ll get over it.”
But the days passed and still Eden refused to come dow
nstairs. He ate next to nothing. Finally Renny came to his room. The rain had stopped but the air was heavy and grey. All colour seemed washed from the landscape except the watery green of the cedar tree.
“How are you feeling?” asked Renny, sitting on the foot of the bed.
“Rotten.”
“Any pain?”
“No.”
“Where do you feel the worst?”
“I don’t know. I just feel rotten.”
“Want me to send for the doctor?”
“No. I’ll be all right.”
“You’re wasting a lot of time, you know. I think you’d feel better if you got up.”
“I can’t.” Eden’s voice broke.
“I’ve a letter for you. It just came. I have an idea it’s from Mrs. Stroud.” He handed Eden the letter.
Eden glanced at it, then thrust it under his pillow. “Just leave me alone,” he said petulantly. “I’ll get up tomorrow.”
Renny gave him a penetrating glance. “Would you like me to return that letter to her, unopened?”
“Lord, no! I couldn’t do that.”
“But you’ll not know what to say to her. You can be sure that she’s begging you to come and see her. You know damned well I’ll not stand any more of that.”
“I don’t want any more of it,” said Eden hoarsely. “I wish to God I could go away somewhere for a while!”
“Look here, I’ve an idea! How would you like to go into residence in the University? That would settle things. I’ll write her a letter. You need not have any responsibility. Will you do that?” There was an unexpected warmth and understanding in his tone.
Eden rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. He got out “Yes,” in a strangled voice. His hand touched the letter. He thrust it blindly toward Renny.
“Take the letter,” he said. “Write to her for me. I can’t see her.”
Renny’s gesture of comfort toward anyone in bed was to draw the covers close over him. He did so now, almost covering Eden’s head.
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 145
