The Half-Hearted

by John Buchan

  CHAPTER XIV

  A GENTLEMAN IN STRAITS

  The fall of the leaf found Etterick very full of people, and newdwellers in Glenavelin. The invitations were of old standing, but Lewisfound their fulfilment a pleasant trick of Fortune's. To keep abustling household in good spirits leaves small room for brooding, andhe was famous for his hospitality. The partridges were plentiful thatyear, and a rainless autumn had come on the heels of a fine summer. Solife went pleasantly with all, and the master of the place cloaked avery sick heart under a ready good-humour.

  His thoughts were always on Glenavelin, and when he happened to be nearit he used to look with anxious eyes for a slim figure which was rarelyout of his fancy. He had not seen Alice since the accident, save forone short minute, when riding from Gledsmuir he had passed her oneafternoon at the Glenavelin gates. He had earnestly desired to stop,but his curious cowardice had made him pass with a lifted hat and ahasty smile. Could he have looked back, he might have seen the girlwatching him out of sight with tearful eyes. To himself he was thehopeless lover, and she the scornful lady, while she in her own eyes wasthe unhappy girl for whom the soldier in the song shakes his bridlereins and cries an eternal adieu.

  Matters did not improve when the Manorwaters left and Mr. Wisharthimself came down, bringing with him Stocks, a certain Mr. Andrews andhis wife, and an excellent young man called Thompson. All were pleasantpeople, with the manners which the world calls hearty, well-groomed,presentable folk, who enjoyed this life and looked forward to a better.

  Mr. Wishart explored the place thoroughly the first evening, andexplained that he was thankful indeed that he had been led to take it.He was a handsome man with a worn, elderly face, a square jaw andsomewhat weary eyes. It is given to few men to make a great fortune andnot bear the signs of it on their persons.

  "I expect you enjoyed staying with Lady Manorwater, Alice?" Mrs.Andrews declared at dinner. "They are very plain people, aren't they,to be such great aristocrats?

  "I suppose so," said the girl listlessly.

  "I once met Lady Manorwater at Mrs. Cookson's at afternoon tea. Ithought she was badly dressed. You know Manorwater, don't you, George?"said the lady to her husband, with the boldness which comes from the useof a peer's name without the handle.

  "Oh yes, I know him well. I have met him at the Liberal Club dinners,and I was his chairman once when he spoke on Irish affairs. Adelightful man!"

  "I suppose they would have a pleasant house-party when you were here, mydear?" asked the lady. "And of course you had the election. What fun!And what a victory for you, Mr. Stocks! I hear you beat the greatestlandowner in the district."

  Mr. Stocks smiled and glanced at Alice. The girl flushed; she couldnot help it; and she hated Mr. Stocks for his look.

  Her father spoke for the first time. "What is the young man like, Mr.Stocks? I hear he is very proud and foolish, the sort of over-educatedtype which the world has no use for."

  "I like him," said Mr. Stocks dishonestly. "He fought like agentleman."

  "These people are so rarely gentlemen," said Mrs. Andrews, proud of herhigh attitude. "I suppose his father made his money in coal and boughtthe land from some poor dear old aristocrat. It is so sad to think ofit. And that sort of person is always over-educated, for you see theyhave not the spirit of the old families and they bury themselves inbooks." Mrs. Andrews's father had kept a crockery shop, but hisdaughter had buried the memory.

  Mr. Wishart frowned. The lady had been asked down for her husband'ssake, and he did not approve of this chatter about family. Mr. Stocks,who was about to explain the Haystoun pedigree, caught his host's eyeand left the dangerous subject untouched.

  "You said in your letters that they had been kind to you at this youngman's place. We must ask him down here to dinner, Alice. Oh, and thatreminds me I found a letter from him to-day asking me to shoot. I don'tgo in for that sort of thing, but you young fellows had better try it."

  Mr. Stocks declined, said he had given it up. Mr. Thompson said,"Upon my word I should like to," and privately vowed to forget theinvitation. He distrusted his prowess with a gun.

  "By the by, was he not at the picnic when you saved my daughter's life?I can never thank you enough, Stocks. What should I have done withoutmy small girl?"

  "Yes, he was there. In fact he was with Miss Alice at the moment sheslipped."

  He may not have meant it, but the imputation was clear, and it stirredone fiery expostulation. "Oh, but he hadn't time before Mr. Stockscame after me," she began, and then feeling it ungracious towards thatgentleman to make him share a possibility of heroism with another, shewas silent. More, a lurking fear which had never grown large enough fora suspicion, began to catch at her heart. Was it possible that Lewishad held back?

  For a moment the candle-lit room vanished from her eyes. She saw thewarm ledge of rock with the rowan berries above. She saw his flushed,eager face--it was her last memory before she had fallen. Surelynever--never was there cowardice in those eyes!

  Mrs. Andrews's vulgarities and her husband's vain repetitions began topall upon the anxious girl. The young Mr. Thompson talked shrewdlyenough on things of business, and Mr. Stocks abated something of hispomposity and was honestly amiable. These were her own people, theworkers for whom she had craved. And yet--were they so desirable? Herfather's grave, keen face pleased her always, but what of the others?The radiant gentlewomen whom she had met with the Manorwaters seemed tobelong to another world than this of petty social struggling and awkwardostentation. And the men! Doubtless they were foolish, dilettanti,barbarians of sport, half-hearted and unpractical! And she shut herheart to any voice which would defend them.

  Lewis drove over to dine some four days later with dismal presentiments.The same hopeless self-contempt which had hung over him for weeks wasstill weighing on his soul. He dreaded the verdict of Alice's eyes, andin a heart which held only kindness he looked for a cold criticism. Itwas this despair which made his position hopeless. He would never takehis chance; there could be no opportunity for the truth to become clearto both; for in his plate-armour of despair he was shielded against theworld. Such was his condition to the eyes of a friend; to himself hewas the common hopeless lover who sighed for a stony mistress.

  He noticed changes in Glenavelin. Businesslike leather pouches stood inthe hall, and an unwontedly large pile of letters lay on a table. Thedrawing-room was the same as ever, but in the dining-room an escritoirehad been established which groaned under a burden of papers. Mr.Wishart puzzled and repelled him. It was a strong face, but a cold anda stupid one, and his eyes had the glassy hardness of the man withoutvision. He was bidden welcome, and thanked in a tactless way for hiskindness to Mr. Wishart's daughter. Then he was presented to Mrs.Andrews, and his courage sank as he bowed to her.

  At table the lady twitted him with graceful badinage. "Alice and youmust have had a gay time, Mr. Haystoun. Why, you've been seeing eachother constantly for months. Have you become great friends?" Sheexerted herself, for, though he might be a parvenu, he was undeniablyhandsome.

  Mr. Stocks explained that Mr. Haystoun had organized wonderful picnicparties. The lady clapped her many-ringed hands, and declared that hemust repeat the experiment. "For I love picnics," she said, "I love thesimplicity and the fresh air and the rippling streams. And washing upis fun, and it is such a great chance for you young men." And she cast acoy glance over her shoulder.

  "Do you live far off, Mr. Haystoun?" she asked repeatedly. "Fourmiles? Oh, that's next door. We shall come and see you some day. Wehave just been staying with the Marshams--Mr. Marsham, you know, thebig cotton people. Very vulgar, but the house is charming. It was soexciting, for the elections were on, and the Hestons, who are the greatpeople in that part of the country, were always calling. Dear LadyJulia is so clever. Did you ever meet Mr. Marsham, by any chance?"

  "Not that I remember. I know the Hestons of course. Julia is mycousin."

  The lady was silenced. "But I thought," she murmured. "I thought--theywere--" She
broke off with a cough.

  "Yes, I spent a good many of my school holidays at Heston."

  Alice broke in with a question about the Manorwaters. The youthful Mr.Thompson, who, apart from his solicitor's profession, was a devotee ofcricket, asked in a lofty way if Mr. Haystoun cared for the game.

  "I do rather. I'm not very good, but we raised an eleven this year inthe glen which beat Gledsmuir."

  The notion pleased the gentleman. If a second match could be arrangedhe might play and show his prowess. In all likelihood this solemn andbookish laird, presumably brought up at home, would be a poor enoughplayer.

  "I played a lot at school," he said. "In fact I was in the Eleven fortwo years and I played in the Authentics match, and once against theEton Ramblers. A strong lot they were."

  "Let me see. Was that about seven years ago? I seem to remember."

  "Seven years ago," said Mr. Thompson. "But why? Did you see thematch?"

  "No, I wasn't in the match; I had twisted my ankle, jumping. But Icaptained the Ramblers that season, so I remember it."

  Respect grew large in Mr. Thompson's eyes. Here were modesty anddistinction equally mated. The picture of the shy student had gone fromhis memory.

  "If you like to come up to Etterick we might get up a match from thevillage," said Lewis courteously. "Ourselves with the foresters andkeepers against the villagers wouldn't be a bad arrangement."

  To Alice the whole conversation struck a jarring note. His eye kindledand he talked freely on sport. Was it not but a new token of hisincurable levity? Mr. Wishart, who had understood little of the talk,found in this young man strange stuff to shape to a politician's ends.Contrasted with the gravity of Mr. Stocks, it was a schoolboy beside amaster.

  "I have been reading," he said slowly, "reading a speech of the newUnder-Secretary for Foreign Affairs. I cannot understand the temper ofmind which it illustrates. He talks of the Bosnian war, and a bravepeople struggling for freedom, as if it were merely a move in somehideous diplomatists' game. A man of that sort cannot understand amoral purpose."

  "Tommy--I mean to say Mr. Wratislaw--doesn't believe in Bosnianfreedom, but you know he is a most ardent moralist."

  "I do not understand," said Mr. Wishart drily.

  "I mean that personally he is a Puritan, a man who tries every action ofhis life by a moral standard. But he believes that moral standards varywith circumstances."

  "Pernicious stuff, sir. There is one moral law. There is one Table ofCommandments."

  "But surely you must translate the Commandments into the language of theoccasion. You do not believe that 'Thou shalt not kill' is absolute inevery case?"

  "I mean that except in the God-appointed necessity of war, and in theserving of criminal justice, killing is murder."

  "Suppose a man goes travelling," said Lewis with abstracted eyes, "andhas a lot of native servants. They mutiny, and he shoots down one ortwo. He saves his life, he serves, probably, the ends of civilization.Do you call that murder?"

  "Assuredly. Better, far better that he should perish in the wildernessthan that he should take the law into his own hands and kill one ofGod's creatures."

  "But law, you know, is not an absolute word."

  Mr. Wishart scented danger. "I can't argue against your subtleties,but my mind is clear; and I can respect no man who could thinkotherwise."

  Lewis reddened and looked appealingly at Alice. She, too, wasuncomfortable. Her opinions sounded less convincing when stateddogmatically by her father.

  Mr. Stocks saw his chance and took it.

  "Did you ever happen to be in such a crisis as you speak of, Mr.Haystoun? You have travelled a great deal."

  "I have never had occasion to put a man to death," said Lewis, seeingthe snare and scorning to avoid it.

  "But you have had difficulties?"

  "Once I had to flog a couple of men. It was not pleasant, and worst ofall it did no good."

  "Irrational violence seldom does," grunted Mr. Wishart.

  "No, for, as I was going to say, it was a clear case where the menshould have been put to death. They had deserved it, for they haddisobeyed me, and by their disobedience caused the death of severalinnocent people. They decamped shortly afterwards, and all but managedto block our path. I blame myself still for not hanging them."

  A deep silence hung over the table. Mr. Wishart and the Andrews staredwith uncomprehending faces. Mr. Stocks studied his plate, and Alicelooked on the speaker with eyes in which unwilling respect strove withconsternation.

  Only the culprit was at his ease. The discomfort of these good peoplefor a moment amused him. Then the sight of Alice's face, which hewholly misread, brought him back to decent manners.

  "I am afraid I have shocked you," he said simply. "If one knocks aboutthe world one gets a different point of view."

  Mr. Wishart restrained a flood of indignation with an effort. "Wewon't speak on the subject," he said. "I confess I have my prejudices."

  Mr. Stocks assented with a smile and a sigh. In the drawing-roomafterwards Lewis was presented with the olive-branch of peace. He hadto attend Mrs. Andrews to the piano and listen to her singing of asentimental ballad with the face of a man in the process of enjoyment.Soon he pleaded the four miles of distance and the dark night, and tookhis leave. His spirits had in a measure returned. Alice had not beengracious, but she had shown no scorn. And her spell at the first sightof her was woven a thousand-fold over his heart.

  He found her alone for one moment in the hall.

  "Alice--Miss Wishart, may I come and see you? It is a pity such nearneighbours should see so little of each other."

  His hesitation made him cloak a despairing request in the garb of aconventional farewell.

  The girl had the sense to pierce the disguise. "You may come and seeus, if you like, Mr. Haystoun. We shall be at home all next week."

  "I shall come very soon," he cried, and he was whirled away from thelight; with the girl's face framed in the arch of the doorway making apicture for his memory.

  * * * * *

  When the others had gone to bed, Stocks and Mr. Wishart sat up over alast pipe by the smoking-room fire.

  The younger man moved uneasily in his chair. He had something to saywhich had long lain on his mind, and he was uncertain of its reception.

  "You have been for a long time my friend, Mr. Wishart," he began. "Youhave done me a thousand kindnesses, and I only hope I have not provedmyself unworthy of them."

  Mr. Wishart raised his eyebrows at the peculiar words. "Certainly youhave not," he said. "I regard you as the most promising by far of theyounger men of my acquaintance, and any little services I may haverendered have been amply repaid me."

  The younger man bowed and looked into the fire.

  "It is very kind of you to speak so," he said. "I have been wonderingwhether I might not ask for a further kindness, the greatest favourwhich you could confer upon me. Have you made any plans for yourdaughter's future?"

  Mr. Wishart sat up stiffly on the instant. "You mean?" he said.

  "I mean that I love Alice ... your daughter ... and I wish to makeher my wife. If you will give me your consent, I will ask her."

  "But--but," said the old man, stammering. "Does the girl know anythingof this?"

  "She knows that I love her, and I think she will not be unkind."

  "I don't know that I object," said Mr. Wishart after a long pause. "Infact I am very willing, and I am very glad that you had the good mannersto speak to me first. Yes, upon my word, sir, I am pleased. You havehad a creditable career, and your future promises well. My girl willhelp you, for though I say it, she will not be ill-provided for. Irespect your character and I admire your principles, and I give you myheartiest good wishes."

  Mr. Stocks rose and held out his hand. He felt that the interviewcould not be prolonged in the present fervour of gratitude.

  "Had it been that young Haystoun now," said Mr. Wishart, "I shouldnever have given my consent. I resolved long
ago that my daughtershould never marry an idle man. I am a plain man, and I care nothingfor social distinctions."

  But as Mr. Stocks left the room the plain man glanced after him, andsitting back suffered a moment's reflection. The form of this workercontrasted in his mind with the figure of the idler who had that eveninggraced his table. A fool, doubtless, but a fool with an air and amanner! And for one second he allowed himself to regret that he was toacquire so unromantic a son-in-law.