Sparrows Part 64

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE WAY OF ALL FLESH

Mavis invested a fraction of her savings in the purchase of rod, fishing tackle, landing net, and bait can; she also bought a yearly ticket from the Avon Conservancy Board, ent.i.tling her to fish with one rod in the river at such times as were not close seasons. Most evenings, her graceful form might be seen standing on the river bank, when she was so intent on her sport that it would seem as if she had grown from the sedge at the waterside. Womanlike, she was enthusiastic over fishing when the fish were on the feed and biting freely, to tire quickly of the sport should her float remain for long untroubled by possible captures nibbling at the bait. She avoided those parts of the river where anglers mostly congregated; she preferred and sought the solitude of deserted reaches. Perigal, at the same time, developed a pa.s.sion for angling. Most evenings, he would be found on the river's bank, if not in Mavis' company, at least near enough to be within call, should any a.s.sistance or advice be required. It was remarkable how often each would want help or counsel on matters piscatorial from the other. Sometimes Mavis would want a certain kind of hook, or she would be out of bait, or she would lose one of the beaded rings on her float, all being things which she had no compunction in borrowing from Perigal, inasmuch as he always came to her when he wanted anything himself. It must also be admitted that, as the days flew by, their excuses for meeting became gradually more slender, till at last they would neglect their rods to talk together for quite a long time upon any and every subject under the sun, save fishing.

Once or twice, when owing to Perigal's not making an appearance, Mavis spent the evening alone, she would feel keenly disappointed, and would go home with a strong sense of the emptiness of life.

During her day at the office, or when in her lodgings, she was either absent-minded or self-conscious; she was always longing to get away with only her thoughts for company. She would sometimes sigh for apparently no reason at all. Then Miss Toombs lent her a volume of Sh.e.l.ley, the love pa.s.sages in which Mavis eagerly devoured. Her favourite time for reading was in bed. She marked, to read and reread, favourite pa.s.sages. Often in the midst of these she would leave off, when her mind would pursue a train of thought inspired by a phrase or thought of the poet. Very soon she had learned 'Love's Philosophy' by heart. The next symptom of the ailment from which she was suffering was a dreamy languor (frequently punctuated by sighs), which disposed her to offer pa.s.sionate resentment to all forms of physical and mental effort. This mood was not a little encouraged by the fact of the hay now lying on the ground, to the scent of which she was always emotionally susceptible.

Perigal renounced fishing at the same time as did Mavis. He had a fine instinct for discovering her whereabouts in the meadows bordering the river.

For some while, she had no hesitation in suffering herself to cultivate his friendship. If she had any doubts of the wisdom of the proceeding, there were always two ample justifications at hand.

The first of these was that her a.s.sociation with him had effected a considerable improvement in his demeanour. He was no longer the mentally down-at-heel, soured man that he had been when Mavis first met him. He had taken on a lightness of heart, which, with his slim, boyish beauty, was very attractive to Mavis, starved as she had been of all a.s.sociation with men of her own age and social position. She believed that the beneficent influence she exercised justified the hours she permitted him of her society.

The other reason was that she deluded herself into believing that her sighs and Sh.e.l.ley-inspired imaginings were all because of Windebank's imminent return. She thought of him every day, more especially since she had met Perigal. She often contrasted the two men in her thoughts, when it would seem as if Windebank's presence, so far as she remembered it, had affected her life as a bracing, health-giving wind; whereas Perigal influenced her in the same way as did appealing music, reducing her to a languorous helplessness. She had for so long a.s.sociated Windebank with any sentimental leanings in which she had indulged, that she was convinced that her fidelity to his memory was sufficient safeguard against her becoming infatuated with Perigal.

Thus she travelled along a road, blinding herself the while to the direction in which she was going. But one day, happening to obtain a glimpse of its possible destination, she resolved to make something of an effort, if not to retrace her way (she scarcely thought this necessary), to stay her steps.

Perigal had told her that if he could get the sum he wanted from his father, he would shortly be going somewhere near Cardiff, where he would be engaged in the manufacture of glazed bricks with a partner.

The news had frightened her. She felt as if she had been dragged to the edge of a seemingly bottomless abyss, into which it was uncertain whether or not she would be thrown. To escape the fate that threatened, she threw off her lethargy, to resume her fishing and avoid rather than seek Perigal. Perhaps he took the hint, or was moved by the same motive as Mavis, for he too gave up frequenting the meadows bordering the river. His absence hurt Mavis more than she could have believed possible. She became moody, irritable; she lost her appet.i.te and could not sleep at night. To ease her distress of mind, she tried calling on her old friends, the Medlicotts, and her new ones, the Trivetts. The former expressed concern for her altered appearance, which only served to increase her despondency, while the music she heard at Pennington Farm told of love dreams, satisfied longings, worlds in which romantic fancy was unweighted with the bitterness and disappointment of life, as she now found it, all of which was more than enough to stimulate her present discontent.

She had not seen or heard anything of Perigal for two weeks, when one July evening she happened to catch the hook of her line in her hand.

She was in great pain, her efforts to remove the hook only increasing her torment. She was wondering what was the best way of getting help, when she saw Perigal approaching. Her first impulse was to avoid him.

With beating heart, she hid behind a clump of bushes. But the pain in her hand became so acute that she suddenly emerged from her concealment to call sharply for a.s.sistance. He ran towards her, asking as he came:

"What's the matter?"

"My hand," she faltered. "I've caught the hook in it."

"Poor dear! Let me look."

"Please do something. It hurts," she urged, as she put out her hand, which was torn by the cruel hook.

"What an excellent catch! But, all the same, I must get it out at once," he remarked, as he produced a pocket knife.

"With that?" she asked tremulously.

"I won't hurt you more than I can help, you may be sure. But it must come out at once, or you'll get a bad go of blood poisoning."

"Do it as quickly as possible," she urged.

She set her lips, while he cut into the soft white flesh.

However much he hurt her, she resolved not to utter a sound. For all her fort.i.tude, the trifling operation pained her much.

"Brave little Mavis!" he said, as he freed her flesh from the hook, to ask, as she did not speak, "Didn't it hurt?"

"Of course it did. See how it's bleeding!"

"All the better. It will clear the poison out."

Mavis was hurt at the indifference he exhibited to her pain.

"Would you please tie my handkerchief round it?" she asked.

"Let it bleed. What are you thinking of?"

"I want to get back."

"Where's the hurry?"

"Only that I want to get back."

"But I haven't seen you for ages."

"Haven't you?" she asked innocently.

"Cruel Mavis! But before you go back you must wash your hand in the river."

"I'll do nothing of the kind."

"Not if it's for your good?"

"Not if I don't wish it."

"As it's for your good, I insist on your doing what I wish," he declared, as he caught her firmly by the wrist and led her, all unresisting, to the river's brink. She was surprised at her helplessness and was inclined to criticise it impersonally, the while Perigal plunged her wounded hand into the water. Her reflections were interrupted by a sharp pain caused by the contact of water with the torn flesh.

"It's better than blood poisoning," he hastened to a.s.sure her.

"I believe you do it on purpose to hurt me," she remarked, upon his freeing her hand.

"I'm justified in hurting you if it's for your good," he declared calmly. "Now let me bind it up."

While he tied up her hand, she looked at him resentfully, the colour heightening on her cheek.

"I wish you'd often look like that," he remarked.

"I shall if you treat me so unkindly."

He took no notice of the accusation, but said:

"When you look like that it's wonderful. Then certain verses in the 'Song of Solomon' might have been written to you."

"The 'Song of Solomon'?"

"Don't you read your Bible?"