John Caldigate Part 8

Then he comforted her, saying that it certainly had not been her fault; that she had been reticent and reserved till she had been either provoked or invited to come forth; and, in fact, that her conduct had been in all respects feminine, pretty, and decorous;--as to all which he was not perhaps the best judge in the world.

But she was certainly much pleasanter to look at, and even to talk to, now that she had put on a small, clean, black felt hat instead of the broken straw, and had got out from her trunks a pretty warm shawl, and placed a ribbon or two about her in some indescribable manner, and was no longer ashamed of showing her shoes as she sat about upon the deck.

There could be no doubt, as she was seen now, that she was the most attractive female on board the ship; but it may be doubted whether the anger of the Mrs. Cromptons, Mrs. Callanders, and Miss Greens was mitigated by the change. The battle against her became stronger, and the duty of rescuing that infatuated young man from her sorceries was more clear than ever;--if only anything could be done to rescue him!

What could be done? Mrs. Smith could not be locked up. No one,--not even the Captain,--could send her down to her own wretched little cabin because she would talk with a gentleman. Talking is allowed on board ship, and even flirting, to a certain extent. Mrs. Smith's conduct with Mr. Caldigate was not more peculiar than that of Miss Green and the doctor. Only it pleased certain people to think that Miss Green might be fond of the doctor if she chose, and that Mrs. Smith had no right to be fond of any man. There was a stubbornness about both the sinners which resolved to set public opinion at defiance. The very fact that others wished to interfere with him made Caldigate determined to resent all interference; and the woman, with perhaps a deeper insight into her own advantages, was brave enough to be able to set opposition at defiance.

They were about a week from their port when the captain,--Captain Munday,--was induced to take the matter into his own hands. It is hardly too much to say that he was pressed to do so by the united efforts of the first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers. It was dreadful to think that this unfortunate young man should go on sh.o.r.e merely to become the prey of such a woman as that. So Captain Munday, who at heart was not afraid of his pa.s.senger,--but who persisted in saying that no good could be done, and who had, as may be remembered, already made a slight attempt,--was induced to take the matter in hand. He came up to Caldigate on the deck one afternoon, and without any preface began his business. 'Mr.

Caldigate,' he said, 'I am afraid you are getting into a sc.r.a.pe with one of your fellow-pa.s.sengers.'

'What do you call a sc.r.a.pe, Captain Munday?'

'I should call it a sc.r.a.pe if a young gentleman of your position and your prospects were to find himself engaged on board ship to marry a woman he knew nothing about.'

'Do you know anything about my position and prospects, Captain Munday?'

'I know you are a gentleman.'

'And I think you know less about the lady.'

'I know nothing;--but I will tell you what I hear.'

'I really would rather that you did not. Of course, Captain Munday, on board your own ship you are a despot, and I must say that you have made everything very pleasant for us. But I don't think even your position ent.i.tles you to talk to me about my private affairs,--or about hers. You say you know nothing. Is it manly to repeat what one hears about a poor forlorn woman?' Then the Captain retreated without another word, owning to himself that he was beaten. If this foolish young man chose to make for himself a bed of that kind he must lie upon it. Captain Munday went away shrugging his shoulders, and spoke no further word to John Caldigate on that or any other subject during the voyage.

Caldigate had driven off his persecutors valiantly, and had taught them all to think that he was resolute in his purposes in regard to Mrs.

Smith, let those purposes be what they might; but nothing could be further from the truth; for he had no purposes and was, within his own mind, conscious of his lack of all purpose, and very conscious of his folly. And though he could repel Mrs. Callander and the Captain,--as he had always repelled those who had attempted to control him,--still he knew that they had been right. Such an intimacy as this could not be wise, and its want of wisdom became the more strongly impressed upon him the nearer he got to sh.o.r.e, and the more he felt that when he had got ash.o.r.e he should not know how to act in regard to her.

The intimacy had certainly become very close. He had expressed his great admiration, and she had replied that, 'had things not been as they were,' she could have returned the feeling. But she did not say what the things were which might have been otherwise. Nor did she seem to attempt to lead him on to further and more definite proposals. And she never spoke of any joint action between them when on sh.o.r.e, though she gave herself up to his society here on board the ship. She seemed to think that they were then to part, as though one would be going one way, and one the other;--but he felt that after so close an intimacy they could not part like that.

Chapter VIII

Reaching Melbourne

Things went on in the same way till the night before the morning on which they were to enter Hobson's Bay. Hobson's Bay, as every one knows, is the inlet of the sea into which the little river runs on which Melbourne is built. After leaving the tropics they had gone down south, and had encountered showers and wind, and cold weather, but now they had come up again into warm lat.i.tudes and fine autumn weather,--for it was the beginning of March, and the world out there is upside down. Before that evening nothing had been said between Mrs Smith and John Caldigate as to any future; not a word to indicate that when the journey should be over, there would or that there would not be further intercourse between them. She had purposely avoided any reference to a world after this world of the ship, even refusing, in her half-sad but half-joking manner, to discuss matters so far ahead. But he felt that he could not leave her on board, as he would the other pa.s.sengers, without a word spoken as to some future meeting. There will arrive on occasions a certain pitch of intimacy,--which cannot be defined as may a degree of cousinship, but which is perfectly understood by the persons concerned;--so close as to forbid such mere shaking of the hands. There are many men, and perhaps more women, cautious enough and wise enough to think of this beforehand, and, thinking of it, to guard themselves from the dangerous attractions of casual companions by a composed manner and unenthusiastic conversation. Who does not know the sagacious lady who, after sitting at table with the same gentleman for a month, can say, 'Good-bye, Mr.

Jones,' just as though Mr. Jones had been a stranger under her notice but for a day. But others gush out, and when Mr. Jones takes his departure, hardly know how not to throw themselves into his arms. The intercourse between our hero and Mrs. Smith had been such that, as a gentleman, he could not leave her without some allusion to future meetings. That was all up to the evening before their arrival. The whole ship's company, captain, officers, quarter-masters, pa.s.sengers, and all, were quite sure that she had succeeded in getting a promise of marriage from him. But there had been nothing of the kind.

Among others, d.i.c.k Shand was sure that there was some entanglement.

Entanglement was the word he always used in discussing the matter with Mrs. Callander. Between d.i.c.k and his friend there had been very little confidential communication of late. Caldigate had forbidden Shand to talk to him about Mrs. Smith, and thus had naturally closed the man's mouth on other matters. And then they had fallen into different sets.

d.i.c.k, at least, had fallen into a set, while Caldigate had hardly a.s.sociated with any but the one dangerous friend. d.i.c.k had lived much with a bevy of noisy young men who had been given to games and smoking, and to a good deal of drink. Caldigate had said not a word, even when on one occasion d.i.c.k had stumbled down into the cabin very much the worse for what he had taken. How could he find fault with d.i.c.k's folly when he would not allow d.i.c.k to say a word to him as to his own? But on this last day at sea it became necessary that they should understand each other.

'What do you mean to do when you land?' Caldigate asked.

All that had been settled between them very exactly long since. At a town called n.o.bble, about three hundred miles west of Sydney, there lived a man, supposed to be knowing in gold, named Crinkett, with whom they had corresponded, and to whom they intended, in the first instance, to apply. And about twenty miles beyond n.o.bble were the new and now much reputed Ahalala diggings, at which they purposed to make their first debut. It had been decided that they would go direct from Melbourne to n.o.bble,--not round by Sydney so as to see more of the world, and thus spend more money,--but by the direct route, taking the railway to Albury and the coaches, which they were informed were running between Albury and n.o.bble. And it had also been determined that they would spend but two nights in Melbourne,--'just to get their things washed,'--so keen had they been in their determination to begin their work. But on all these matters there had been no discussion now for a month, nor even an allusion to them.

'What do you mean to do when we land?' Caldigate asked on that last day.

'I thought all that was settled. But I suppose you are going to change everything?'

'I am going to change nothing. Only you seem to have got into such a way of life that I didn't know whether you would be prepared for serious work.'

'I shall be as well prepared as you are, I don't doubt,' said d.i.c.k. 'I have no impediment of any kind.'

'I certainly have none. Then we will start by the first train on Wednesday morning for Albury. We must have our heavy things sent round by sea to Sydney, and get them from there as best we can. When we are a little fixed, one of us can run down to Sydney.'

And so it was settled, without any real confidence between them, but in conformity with their previous arrangements.

It was on the evening of the same day, after they had sighted Cape Otway, that Mrs. Smith and Caldigate began their last conversation on board the Goldfinder,--a conversation which lasted, with one or two interruptions, late into the night.

'So we have come to the end of it,' she said.

'To the end of what?'

'To the end of all that is pleasant and easy and safe. Don't you remember my telling you how I dreaded the finish? Here I have been fairly comfortable and have in many respects enjoyed it. I have had you to talk to; and there has been a flavour of old days about it. What shall I be doing this time to-morrow?'

'I don't know your plans.'

'Exactly;--and I have not told you, because I would not have you bothered with me when I land. You have enough on your own hands; and if I were to be a burden to you now it might be a serious trouble. I am afraid poor Mr. Shand objects to me.'

'You don't think that would stand in my way?'

'It stands in mine. Of course, with your pride and your obstinacy you would tell Mr. Shand to go to--the devil if he ventured to object to any little delay that might be occasioned by looking after me. Then Mr.

Shand would go--there, or elsewhere; and all your plans would be broken up, and you would be without a companion.'

'Unless I had you.' Of all the words which he could have spoken in such an emergency these were the most foolish; and yet, at so tender a moment, how were they to be repressed?

'I do think that d.i.c.k Shand is dangerous,' she answered, laughing; 'but I should be worse. I am afraid d.i.c.k Shand will--drink.'

'If so, we must part. And what would you do?'

'What would I do? What could I do?' Then there was a pause. 'Perhaps I should want you to--marry me, which would be worse than d.i.c.k Shand's drinking. Eh?'

There is an obligation on a man to persevere when a woman has encouraged him in love-making. It is like riding at a fence. When once you have set your horse at it you must go on, however impracticable it may appear as you draw close to it. If you have never looked at the fence at all,--if you have ridden quite the other way, making for some safe gate or clinging to the dull lane,--then there will be no excitement, but also there will be no danger and no disgrace. Caldigate had ridden hard at the fence, and could not crane at it now that it was so close to him. He could only trust to his good fortune to carry him safe over. 'I don't suppose you would want it,' he said, 'but I might.'

'You would want me, but you would not want me for always. I should be a burden less easy to shake off than d.i.c.k Shand.'

'Is that the way a man is always to look at a woman?'

'It is the way in which they do, I think. I often wonder that any man is ever fool enough to marry. A poor man may want some one to serve him, and may be able to get service in no other way; or a man, poor in another way, may find an heiress convenient;--but otherwise I think men only marry when they are caught. Women are prehensile things, which have to cling to something for nourishment and support. When I come across such a one as you I naturally put out my feelers.'

'I have not been aware of it.'

'Yes, you are; and I do not doubt that your mind is vacillating about me. I am sure you like me.'

'Certainly, I like you.'