The Soul of Susan Yellam Part 31

Mrs. Yellam received him, as usual, a shade more formally, perhaps, with a slight tightening of her lips. Hamlin began as the personal friend of long standing, a.s.suring the mother that her son, in all probability, was not severely wounded, that good news might be expected shortly, that very soon Alfred might be with her, out of the danger zone for a season, and able to give attention to his business. But he perceived that he was wasting words and time. She listened respectfully, saying nothing. He guessed what ebullitions of feeling were suppressed. He had been tormented by her anxieties, by her doubts. The loss of his wife had been irreparable. And when his daughter left him alone in the Vicarage, with nothing to engross him but his work, an odd distaste of life had a.s.sailed him, a slackness which he fought tooth and nail. Till then he had hardly known fatigue, as it is known to all women, that dull apathy more mental than physical which questions means and ends, exaggerating the difficulties of the former and minimising the latter, an apathy continually whispering the sad words: _cui bono_? He knew how hard Mrs.

Yellam had worked for her husband, her children, and in particular for Alfred. During the last ten years all ambition, all energies had been concentrated upon him alone. She had made unconsciously, a G.o.d of him.

Hamlin rose up to deliver his message. Mrs. Yellam rose with him.

"I missed you in church yesterday, and on Christmas Day."

"One old 'ooman can't be missed, sir."

His eyes not his voice softened.

"You are mistaken, Mrs. Yellam. A woman of your character in this parish is missed--more than you think, perhaps."

"If Alferd comes back, you'll see me in my pew again."

"You have made that rash bargain with your G.o.d?"

She said defiantly:

"How do I know as He is my G.o.d? The Kayser claims Him."

Hamlin gazed keenly at her.

"If--if I left the matter there, Mrs. Yellam, in the firm hope and belief that G.o.d's way, inscrutable as they may appear to us when all our energies are at a low ebb, will in His time be made manifest, may I not ask you, as your parish priest, to consider the example to others, the many, possibly, who are wavering in faith as you are?"

"Fancy Broomfield bid me think of that."

"Did she? Poor girl, she is distracted with anxiety, like you. But her faith sustains her. Have you thought of what Fancy told you?"

She answered him slowly, weighing her words:

"My faith be gone, sir. It may come back wi' Alferd. And feeling so bitter as I do about William Saint, who be stealing my boy's business, who be letting others fight for him, and making a fortin for hisself, can I kneel at G.o.d's Table?"

"No."

"What be I to do? Go to church, a whited sepulchre, and pretend that I be a Christian 'ooman? Do 'ee ask me to do that for sake of others?"

Hamlin remained silent. She continued, more calmly:

"I can't bring myself to go church along, although I'd be pleased to oblige you, sir."

"It is no question of obliging me, Mrs. Yellam. Aren't you adding to your heavy burden instead of sharing it with One Who laid it upon you and Who alone can lighten it?"

Grievously she shook her head. Hamlin took his leave. As he walked away, he muttered to himself: "Civil War--devastating Civil War raging in that poor old heart."

He returned to the Vicarage with his mind dwelling upon the eternal conflict, a conflict accentuated by the world-war, because its issues seemed to enrich or impoverish everybody. By it, without a doubt, Susan Yellam had been impoverished. He himself was conscious of enrichment.

But--he had not lost a son. He had five children.

After tea Fancy cycled down, as usual, to the Yellam cottage. Solomon received her boisterously. She made sure that good news awaited her. A glance at Mrs. Yellam's set face put to flight her hopes. No news had come. Mrs. Yellam greeted the girl perfunctorily, and then said sharply:

"Have you brought 'em?"

"Yes," said Fancy.

She took from a small hand-bag a much-used pack of cards. Mrs. Yellam had cleared a s.p.a.ce upon the kitchen-table.

"Set 'em out," she commanded.

Fancy sat down, and began to shuffle the pack. Hamlin would have smiled sorrowfully, had he seen Mrs. Yellam's intent face as the girl's slim fingers dealt out the cards. So it had come to this. Rejecting the faith of sixty years, this poor old woman asked for hope and happiness from a fortuitous arrangement of bits of painted pasteboard! Comedy upon the underlying tragedy. Hamlin knew, of course, that astrologers, mediums, crystal-gazers and the like were doing a roaring trade.

Mrs. Yellam, let it be noted, asked Fancy to bring the cards. Protest had quivered upon Fancy's lips and stayed there.

"Well?"

"It is well, Mother. Alfred will come back. This makes the third time; and, do you know, when I rode up Sol barked and wagged his tail."

"Did he? The dog be full o' fun now."

Fancy went down on her knees; Sol barked at her, and then began to race round the room, playing what Fancy called "mad dog." He ended by leaping, panting, into Mrs. Yellam's lap.

"I believe he knows something, Fancy."

"I'm sure he does. Would he carry on like that if--if Alfred was real bad?"

Thus each woman, in her artless way, consoled the other.

Upon the Tuesday, details reached Mrs. Yellam. Alfred had been shot in the arm; the bone was badly broken; his destination was Netley.

Strings were pulled by Sir Geoffrey. Before the week was out Alfred arrived at Pomfret Court. He looked much the same, not quite so rubicund; he carried his left arm in a sling. Upon the following Sunday, Mrs. Yellam appeared in her pew, and the fervour of her responses excited some comment.

She said to Fancy:

"The cards told true. Now, the sooner you and Alferd becomes man and wife the better."

The doctor, who visited Pomfret Court daily, raised no objections.

Alfred's arm would keep him in Nether-Applewhite for many weeks, because small splinters, from time to time, would have to be extracted, a tedious process. Mrs. Yellam, when she heard this, said with twinkling eyes:

"Alfred, dear, why didn't you get wounded in both arms?"

To which Alfred replied slily:

"I kept my right arm, Mother, to slip round Fancy's waist."

He told many stories to which Fancy and Mrs. Yellam listened entranced, and he spoke of the enemy with respect and without rancour. Upon one occasion, as his battalion moved into the trenches, a German had shouted out in excellent English:

"Be you the Wiltsheers?"

A reply in the affirmative provoked a request for "pozzy" (jam). But a tall sergeant, who stood up to hurl a can of preserve into the German trench, was shot dead. This aroused tremendous wrath, as quickly allayed when the same voice shouted again, asking if the sergeant who threw the jam had been hurt. He was soon satisfied on that point, and, immediately, a hubbub arose in the enemy trench, and a shot was heard.

Soon afterwards the Wiltshires learnt from the lips of the first speaker that the man who treacherously slew the sergeant had been "done in."