Arthur Quiller-Couch

“ He was deep in this game when he heard a horn blown somewhere high on the towans behind him.
He turned. No one was in sight. The house lay behind the sand-banks, the first ridge hiding even its chimney-smoke. He gazed along the beach, where the perpetual haze of spray seemed to have removed the light-house to a vast distance. A sense of desolation came over him with a rush, and with something between a gasp and a sob he turned his back to the sea and ran, his boots dangling from his shoulders by their knotted laces.
He pounded up the first slope and looked for the cottage. No sign of it! ”

“ Honoria rode in silence for the first mile; but Taffy sang and whistled by turns as he skipped alongside. The whole world flashed and glittered around the boy and girl; the white gulls fishing, the swallows chasing one another across the dunes, the lighthouse on the distant spit, the white-washed mine-chimneys on the ridge beside the shore. Away on the rises of the moor one hill-farm laughed to another in a steady flame of furze blossom—laughed with a tinkling of singing larks. And beyond the last rise lay the land of wonders, George’s country. ”

“ On Sundays he took far walks along the coast, starting at daybreak, returning as a rule long after dark, mired and footsore, and at supper too weary to talk with his mother, whose eyes watched him always.
It was a still autumn evening when Honoria came riding to visit Humility; the close of a golden day. Its gold lingered yet along the west and fell on the whitewashed doorway where Humility sat with her lace-work. Behind, in the east, purple and dewy, climbed the domed shadow of the world. And over all lay that hush which the earth only knows when it rests in the few weeks after harvest. ”

“ Taffy saw that he was a clean-shaven little fellow, with puckered cheeks and two wisps of grey hair curling forward from his ears.
Mr. Raymond frowned. “I am sure,” said he, “you ought not to be talking so much.”
“I will sing and give praise, sir, beggin’ you pardon, with the best member that I have. Who is weak, and I am not weak? Who is offended and I burn not? Hallelujah! A-men!”
He took his basin of bread and milk from Humility’s hand, and ate by the fire. She had wrung his clothes through fresh water, and as soon as they were thoroughly dry he retired upstairs to change. ”

“ Mendarva’s forge stood on a triangle of turf beside the high-road, where a cart-track branched off to descend to Joll’s Farm in the valley. And Mendarva was a dark giant of a man with a beard like those you see on the statues of Nineveh. On Sundays he parted his beard carefully and tied the ends with little bows of scarlet ribbon; but on week days it curled at will over his mighty chest. He had one assistant whom he called “the Dane”; a red-haired youth as tall as himself and straighter from the waist down. Mendarva’s knees had come together with years of poising and swinging his great hammer. ”

“ The groom hoisted in his portmanteau, and with a slam of the door they were off. The cold air sang past Taffy’s ears. It put vigour into him, and his courage rose as he faced his shattered prospects, shattered dreams. He must be strong now for his mother’s sake; a man to work and be leant upon.
And so it was that whereas Honoria had found him a boy, Humility found him a man. ”

“ And now they turned away from the sea, and struck a high road which took them between upland farms and across the ridge of cultivated land to a valley full of trees. A narrow path led inland up this valley. They had followed it under pale green shadows, in Indian file, the pony at Honoria’s heels and Taffy behind, and stepped out into sunlight again upon a heathery moor where a trout stream chattered and sparkled. And there by a granite bridge they found George fishing, with three small trout shining on the turf beside him. ”

“ Taffy thanked him and walked across the great empty quadrangle. Within the Cathedral the organ was sounding and pausing, and from time to time a boy’s voice broke in upon the music like a flute, the pure treble rising to the roof as though it were the very voice of the building, and every pillar sustained its petition, “Lord have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law!” Neither organist nor chorister was visible, and Taffy tiptoed along the aisles in dread of disturbing them. ”

“ Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God—that which the Moabitess said for a woman’s sake women are saying for men’s sakes by thousands every day.
Still holding her hand, Humility drew Honoria close. “God deal kindly with you, my dear,” she whispered, and kissed her.
At the gate Honoria blew a whistle, and after a few seconds Aide-de-camp came obediently out of the darkness to be bridled. This done, Taffy lent his hand and swung her into the saddle. ”

“ Your mother—but no doubt she has told you—stays in the Parsonage while she pleases. She and your grandmother are both well. I see her every day: I have so much to learn, and she is so wise. Her beautiful eyes—but oh, Taffy, it must be terrible to be a widow! She smiles and is always cheerful; but the look in them! How can I describe it? When I find her alone with her lace-work, or sometimes (but it is not often) with her hands in her lap, she seems to come out of her silence with an effort, as others withdraw themselves from talk. ”

“ Lizzie Pezzack had never set foot inside the Raymonds’ cottage. Humility, gentle soul as she was, could on some points be as unchristian as other women. As time went on it seemed that not a soul beside herself and Taffy knew of Honoria’s suspicion. She even doubted, and Taffy doubted too, if Lizzie herself knew such an accusation had been made. Certainly never by word or look had Lizzie hinted at it. Yet Humility could not find it in her heart to forgive her. ”

“ At times, when his small limbs grew weary (though he never acknowledged this) he would stretch himself on the short turf of the headland and lie staring up at the white gulls. No one ever came near enough to surprise the look which then crept over the child’s face. But Taffy, passing him at a distance, remembered another small boy, and shivered to remember and compare—
“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.” ”

“ Taffy slept little that night, though he needed sleep. The salving of this body had become almost a personal dispute between the sea and him. The gale had shattered two of his windlasses; but two remained, and by one o’clock next day he had both slung over to the mainland and fixed beside the rock. The news spreading inland fetched two or three score onlookers before ebb of tide—miners for the most part, whose help could be counted on. The men of the coast-guard had left the wreck, to bear a hand if needed. George had come too. ”

“ In this queer house the stairs led right down into the kitchen. The front door, too, opened into the kitchen, which was really a slate-paved hall, with a long table set between the doorway and the big open hearth. The floor was always strewn with sand; there was no trouble about this, for the wind blew plenty under the door.
Taffy found the table laid, and his mother busily slicing bread for his bread and milk. He begged for a hot cake from the hearth, and ran out of doors to eat it. Humility lifted the latch for him, for the cake was so hot that he had to pass it from hand to hand. ”

“ This was Honoria’s first visit to the Parsonage, and the sight of the clean kitchen and shining pots and pans filled her with wonder. Humility shook hands and made a silent note of the child’s frock, which was torn and wanted brushing.
“He may go, and thank you. It’s lonely for him here, very often.”
“I suppose,” said Honoria gravely, “I ought to have called before. I wish—” She was about to say that she wished Humility would come to Tredinnis. But her eyes wandered to the orderly dresser and the scalding-pans by the fireplace.
“I mean—if Taffy had a sister it would be different.” ”

“ At daybreak Taffy’s workmen came trudging along the track where the short turf and gentians grew between the wheel-ruts; and in the evening went trudging back, the level sun flashing on their empty dinner-cans. The eight souls left behind had one common gospel— Cleanliness. Very little dust found its way thither; but the salt, spray-laden air kept them constantly polishing window-panes and brass-work. To wash, to scour, to polish, grew into the one absorbing business of life. ”

“ He stepped out into the sunlight again, and wandering through archway and cloister found himself at length beyond the college walls and at the junction of two avenues of elms, between the trunks of which shone the acres of a noble meadow, level and green. The avenues ran at a right angle, east and south; the one old, with trees of magnificent girth, the other new and interset with poplars.
Taffy stood irresolute. One of these avenues, he felt sure, must lead to the river; but which?
Two old gentlemen stepped out from the wicket of the Meadow Buildings, and passed him, talking together. ”

“ Taffy guessed nothing of these passions in conflict, these weak agonies. He went about his daily work, a man grown, thinking his own thoughts; and these thoughts were of many things; but they held no room for the problem which meant everything in life to Honoria and Lizzie—yes, and to Humility, though it haunted her in less disturbing shape. Humility pondered it quietly with a mind withdrawn while her hands moved before her on the lace pillow ”

“ She lay almost on her beam ends, with the waves sweeping high across her starboard quarter and never less than six ranks of ugly breakers between her and dry land. A score of watchers—in the distance they looked like emmets—were gathered by the edge of the surf. But the coast-guard had not arrived yet.
“The tide is ebbing, and the rocket may reach. Can you see anyone aboard?”
Taffy spied through his hands, but could see no one. His father set off running, and he followed, half-blinded by the rain, now floundering in loose sand, now tripping in a rabbit hole. ”

“ A volley of sand darkened and shook the pane. Taffy, sponging himself in his tub and singing between his gasps, looked up hastily, then flung a big towel about him and ran to the window.
Honoria was standing below; and Comedy, her gray pony, with a creel and a couple of fishing rods strapped to his canvas girth.
“Wake up! I’ve come to take you fishing.” ”

“ Often after work the pair would try a hitch together on the triangle of turf, with Taffy for stickler, Mendarva illustrating and explaining, the Dane nodding seriously whenever he understood, but never answering a word. Afterwards the boy recalled these bouts very vividly—the clear evening sky, the shoulders of the two big men shining against the level sun as they gripped and swayed, their long shadows on the grass under which (as he remembered) the poor self-murdered woman lay buried. ”

“ Well, it puzzled Taffy at times why he should be working here with Mendarva’s men for twenty shillings a week (it had been eighteen, to begin with) when he might be reading for his degree and a fellowship. Yet in his heart he knew the reason. That would be building, after all, on the foundations which Honoria had laid.
Pride had helped chance to bring him here, to the very spot where Lizzie Pezzack lived. He met her daily, and several times a day. She, and his mother and grandmother, were all the women-folk in the hamlet—if three cottages deserve that name. ”

“ I see myself a man, and the people between me and the prize have all to be knocked down or pushed out of the way. But you don’t even see them—all you see is a pimply-faced boy sucking a quill. Taffy—”
“Yes?”
“I wish you would write to me when you get to Oxford. Write regularly. Tell me all you do.”
“You will like to hear?”
“Of course I shall. So will George. But it’s not only that. You have such an easy way of going forward; you take it for granted you’re going to be a great man—”
“I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You think it just lies with yourself, and it is nobody’s business to interfere with you. ”

“ Plenty of time to be glad ’twas only your husband, not the man of your heart. Look at me, and answer— I don’t count for much now, do I? Not much to hate in me, now you know the name of my child’s father, and that ’tisn’ Taffy Raymond!”
“Let me go.” But seeing that Lizzie would not, she stopped and kissed her boy. “Run out to the carriage, dear, and say I’ll be coming in a minute or two.” Little George clung to her wistfully, but her tone meant obedience. Lizzie stepped aside to let him pass out.
“Now,” said Honoria, “the next room is best, I think. Lead me there, and I will listen.” ”