Denzil Quarrier Part 18

"You have come like a sort of snow-queen," said Tobias, with unusual imaginativeness, pointing to the windows. "It must have begun just as you got here."

Perhaps the chill of her fingers prompted him to this poetical flight.

His wife, who had noticed the same thing, added, with practical fervour:

"I only hope the house is thoroughly dry. We have had great fires everywhere for more than a fortnight. As for the snow and frost, you are pretty well used to that, no doubt."

Painfully on the alert, Lilian of course understood this allusion to the Northern land she was supposed to have quitted recently.

"Even at Stockholm," she replied, with a smile, "there is summer, you know."

"And in Russia, too, I have heard," laughed Mr. Liversedge. "But one doesn't put much faith in such reports. Denzil tries to persuade us now and then that the North Cape has quite a balmy atmosphere, especially from December to March. He is quite safe. We sha'n't go to test his statements."

Instead of a time of misery, this first half-hour proved so pleasant that Lilian all but forgot the shadow standing behind her. When tea was brought in, she felt none of the nervousness which had seemed to her inevitable amid such luxurious appliances. These relatives of Denzil's, henceforth her own, were people such as she had not dared to picture them--so unaffected, genial, easy to talk with; nor did she suffer from a necessity of uttering direct falsehoods; conversation dealt with the present and the future--partly, no doubt, owing to Quarrier's initiative. Mr. Liversedge made a report of local affairs as they concerned the political outlook; he saw every reason for hope.

"Welwyn-Baker," he said, "is quite set up again, and I am told he has no inclination to retire in favour of his son, or any one else. An obstinate old fellow--and may his obstinacy increase! The Tories are beginning to see that they ought to set up a new man; they are quarrelling among themselves. That bazaar at the opening of the new Society's rooms--the Const.i.tutional Literary, you know--seems to have been a failure. No one was satisfied. The _Mercury_ printed savage letters from a lot of people--blaming this, that, and the other person in authority. The _Examiner_, chuckled, and hasn't done referring to the matter yet."

Apart with Lilian, Mrs. Liversedge had begun to talk of the society of Polterham. She did not try to be witty at the expense of her neighbours, but confessed with a sly smile that literature and the arts were not quite so well appreciated as might be wished.

"You are a serious student, I know--very learned in languages. I wish I had had more time for reading, and a better head. But seven children, you know--oh dear! Even my little bit of French has got so ragged that I am really ashamed of it. But there _is_ one woman who studies. Has Denzil spoken to you of Mrs. Wade?"

"I don't remember."

"She is no great favourite of his, I believe. You will soon hear of her, and no doubt see her. Denzil admits that she is very clever--even a Greek scholar!"

"Really! And what fault does he find with her?"

"She is a great supporter of woman's rights, and occasionally makes speeches. It's only of late that I have seen much of her; for some reason she seems to have taken a liking to me, and I feel rather honoured. I'm sure her intentions are very good indeed, and it must be trying to live among people who have no sympathy with you. They make sad fun of her, and altogether misunderstand her--at least I think so."

The snowstorm still raged. To spare their own horses, the Liversedges had come in a cab, and at half-past five the same vehicle returned to take them home. Lilian was sorry to see them go.

"Where are all your apprehensions now?" cried Denzil, coming back to her from the hall. "It's over, you see. Not another minute's uneasiness need you have!"

"They were kindness itself. I like them very much."

"As I knew and said you would. Now, no more chalky faces and frightened looks! Be jolly, and forget everything. Let us try your piano."

"Your sister was telling me about Mrs. Wade. Is she one of the people you would like me to be friends with?"

"Oh yes!" he answered, laughing, "Mrs. Wade will interest you, no doubt. Make a friend of her by all means. Did Mary whisper mysterious warnings?"

"Anything but that; she spoke very favourably."

"Indeed!

"And she said Mrs. Wade seemed to have taken a liking to her lately."

"Oh! How's that, I wonder? She goes about seeking whom she may secure for the women's-vote movement; I suppose it's Molly's turn to be attacked. Oh, we shall have many a lively half-hour when Mrs. Wade calls!"

"What is her husband?"

"Husband! She's a widow. I never thought of such a person as Mr. Wade, to this moment. To be sure, he must have existed. Perhaps she will confide in you, and then----By-the-bye, is it right for women to tell their husbands what they learn from female friends?"

He asked it jokingly, but Lilian seemed to reflect in earnest.

"I'm not sure"----

"Oh, you lily of the valley!" he cried, interrupting her. "Do cultivate a sense of humour. Don't take things with such desperate seriousness!

Come and try your instrument. It ought to be a good one, if price-lists mean anything."

The next morning was clear and cold. a.s.suredly there would be good skating, and the prospect of this enjoyment seemed to engross Denzil's thoughts. After breakfast he barely glanced at the newspapers, then leaving Lilian to enter upon her domestic rule, set forth for an examination of the localities which offered scope to Polterham skaters.

Such youthful zeal proved his thorough harmony with the English spirit; it promised far more for his success as a politician than if he had spent the morning over blue-books and statistical treatises.

If only the snow were cleared away, the best skating near at hand was on a piece of water near the road to Rickstead. The origin of this pond or lakelet had caused discussion among local antiquaries; for tradition said that it occupied the site of a meadow which many years ago mysteriously sank, owing perhaps to the unsuspected existence of an ancient mine. It connected with a little tributary of the River Bale, and was believed to be very deep, especially at one point, where the tree-shadowed bank overhung the water at a height of some ten feet. The way thither was by a field-path, starting from the high road within sight of Pear-tree Cottage. At a rapid walk Quarrier soon reached his goal, and saw with satisfaction that men and boys were sweeping the snowy surface, whilst a few people had already begun to disport themselves where the black ice came to view. In the afternoon he would come with Lilian; for the present, a second purpose occupied his thoughts. Standing on the bank of Bale Water (thus was it named), he could see the topmost branches of that pear-tree which grew in the garden behind Mrs. Wade's cottage; two meadows lay between--a stretch of about a quarter of a mile. It was scarcely the hour for calling upon ladies, but he knew that Mrs. Wade sat among her books through the morning, and he wished especially to see her as soon as possible.

Polterham clocks were counting eleven as he presented himself at the door of the cottage. Once already he had paid a call here, not many days after his meeting with the widow in Mr. Hornibrook's library; he came at three in the afternoon, and sat talking till nearly six. Not a few Polterham matrons would have considered that proceeding highly improper, but such a thought never occurred to Denzil; and Mrs. Wade would have spoken her mind very distinctly to any one who wished to circ.u.mscribe female freedom in such respects. They had conversed on a great variety of subjects with unflagging animation. Since then he had not seen his acquaintance.

A young girl opened to him, and left him standing in the porch for a minute or two. She returned, and asked him to walk into the sitting-room, where Mrs. Wade was studying with her feet on the fender.

"Do I come unseasonably?" he asked, offering his hand.

"Not if you have anything interesting to say," was the curious reply.

The widow was not accounted for reception of visitors. She wore an old though quite presentable dress, with a light shawl about her shoulders, and had evidently postponed the arrangement of her hair until the time of going abroad. Yet her appearance could hardly be called disconcerting, for it had nothing of slovenliness. She looked a student, that was all. For some reason, however, she gave Quarrier a less cordial welcome than he had antic.i.p.ated. Her eyes avoided his, she shook hands in a perfunctory way.

"It depends what you call interesting," was his rejoinder to the unconventional reply. "I got here yesterday, and brought a wife with me--there, at all events, is a statement of fact."

"You have done me the honour to hasten here with the announcement?"

"I came out to see if Bale Water was skateable, and I thought I might venture to make a friendly call whilst I was so near. But I'm afraid I disturb you?"

"Not a bit Pray sit down and talk. Of course I have heard of your marriage. Why didn't you let me know it was impending?"

"Because I told n.o.body. I chose to get married in my own way. You, Mrs.

Wade, are not likely to find fault with me for that."

"Oh dear no!" she answered, with friendly indifference.

"I am told you see a good deal of the Liversedges?"

She nodded.

"Does my sister give any promise of reaching higher levels? Or is she a hopeless groveller?"

"Mrs. Liversedge is the kind of woman I can respect, independently of her views."

"I like to hear you say that, because I know you don't deal in complimentary phrases. The respect, I am sure, is reciprocated."

Mrs. Wade seemed to give slight attention; she was looking at a picture above the fireplace.