Riverton

“ In the course of the afternoon I called to see Miss Rivington at Fortescue Mansions. The young lady herself was absent, but her companion, Miss Curtice, told me that Miss Rivington was with her brother at the hospital, that she was in very great and genuine distress, and that as far as she could tell had had no news whatever from Colonel Normanton. For a brief moment I wondered if the man really meant to quit London, and to give Miss Rivington up in the most effectual way by deserting her. ”

“ Her pride—that form of pride which is a very wholesome self-respect—made her flush at the thought that Rivière would see her and imagine, in a man's way, that she had followed him to Nîmes. She hurried on past him with a rapid side-glance. The situation was an awkward one. She had her work to do by the old Roman baths and the Druid's Tower on the hillside, and she could not leave Nîmes without doing it.
When he came face to face with her, perhaps it would be best to give a cold bow of formal recognition—the kind of bow that says "Good morning. I'm busy. You're not wanted." ”

“ Rivière's fist was clenched as he answered: "I'll fight Fate for both of us."
She was silent for a few moments. Then she asked: "Will you write a letter for me?" [Pg 121]
He brought pen and ink, and waited for her dictation.
"My dear Barrèze," she dictated slowly, "you must find someone else to paint your scenes of Provence. I am blinded for life——"
"Don't ask me to write that!"
"I am blinded for life," she continued with the clear tones of one whose mental vision sees the future unveiled. "They want me to go to Hegelmann at Wiesbaden. ”

“ In England, to return there, John Rivington was still successfully fostering his father’s business. A quiet and sedate man, with nothing of James’ rashness and venture about him, he is described by West as being stout and well formed, particularly neat in his person, of dignified and gentlemanly address, going with gold-headed cane and nosegay twice a day to service at St. Paul’s—as befitted the great religious publisher of the day, and living generally upon the most friendly terms with the members of the Episcopal Bench, and breakfasting every alternate Monday with Bishop Seeker at Lambeth. ”

“ He had relations in that town—small tradespeople—and he would pay a visit to them for a few days.
"Our game is not yet finished, Mr Englishman," he muttered to himself. "No, not yet finished!"
When the train reached Nîmes, Rivière alighted from a first-class compartment, quite unconscious of being followed by the young Provençal from a third-class compartment. Outside the station, in the broad Avenue de la Gare that leads to the heart of the town, Rivière hailed a cab and gave the address, Villa Clémentine.
Crau was near enough to overhear. ”

“ I propose to catch a night train to Paris and be back by to-morrow evening. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?"
"I have everything ... but my sight."
"And that, Dr Hegelmann will give you within the month!" he affirmed.
In Paris early the next morning, Rivière sought out the financial editor of the Europe Chronicle. At a face-to-face interview, Rivière's personality impressed, and the newspaper man showed himself quite willing to prove the bona fides of his journal.
"If you will step into the adjoining room," he said, "I'll send you the reporter who brought us the information. ”

“ You left your coat and stick about a quarter-mile down the left bank of the Seine from Neuilly bridge, so that people would think you dead. You cut a knife-slit in the ribs of your coat to make a neater story of it. Then, as I guessed you would, you went honeymooning with the other woman. Away to the sunny South. I had you followed.
"You registered together at the Hotel du Forum at Arles, taking the names of John Rivière and Elaine Verney. A man doesn't change his name unless he's got some shady reason for it. Every court of law knows that. ”

“ Presently the clerk returned. "I am sorry, sir, but there doesn't seem to be any message left for you."
"Tell him I called," said Rivière, and went back to his cab. In it he was driven to the Gare de Lyon. At the booking-office he asked for a ticket for Arles. His intention was to travel amongst the old cities of Provence, and then make his way to the Pyrenees and into Spain. There was no definite plan of journey; he wanted only some atmosphere which would help him to clear his mind for the work to come. In the Midi the early Spring would be breathing new life over the earth. ”

“ There were not many people about. A few stray footsteps wandered through the stillness, a few vague whispers floated to and fro. But the peace of the place lay like a spell, a dream atmosphere in which every sound was hushed.
Rivington passed down the nave till he reached the central space under the great dome. There he paused, and gazed straight upwards into the giddy height above him.
As he stood thus calmly contemplative, a light step sounded on the pavement close to him, and a low voice spoke.
"Oh, here you are! It's good of you to be so punctual." ”

“ There was despair in her voice.
"The doctor is very hopeful for you, if you will put yourself under Hegelmann's care."
"He can do nothing for me, I feel it. Only useless expense. No man can give me back the sight I want for my work."
"In time," said Rivière gently, but he could not force conviction into his voice. It went hard with him to lie to the woman he cared for most in the world, even to bring temporary comfort to her.
"My work. Barrèze and the Odéon," she murmured slowly, speaking to herself rather than to him. "My work was my life. ”

“ We've started a new evening paper at the Daily Truth [Pg 289] office, and I'd like to secure a scoop for one of the two.... My stars, if I could have seen the scrap between you and Larssen! There must have been some juicy copy in that!"
"No doubt," commented Rivière drily. "Well, I'll say good-bye now."
"Anyhow, thanks for your promise. I'll look forward to the next meeting. Au revoir, as they say in this whisker-ridden country."
Boulogne harbour was crowded with grimy tramp steamers, fishing boats, and a rabble of plebeian harbour craft, but the yacht "Starlight" was not in view. ”

“ With his long years of business training behind him, Rivière became suddenly expansive, talking with apparent frankness without in reality saying anything of import.
"As you say, a remarkable man. That is, as a financier. Personally I have no interests in that direction. My brother and I have very little in common. He is the man of affairs, and I am buried in my work. What was the subject of your interview with him?"
"Canada's future. He gave me a splendid interview—first-rate copy," lied Sylvester. "Have you seen your brother lately? Is he engaged on any big scheme just now? ”

“ It was a call to Nîmes to give evidence in the coming trial of the peasant Crau. He was asked to be there on a date a few days later.
Olive was already waiting for him in the palm-lounge of the Quisisana when he reached there at ten-o'clock. She was smilingly gracious—had seemingly forgiven him his doubting of her word the evening before. They took a taxi to the nursing home, and on the way Olive stopped at a florist's to buy a bunch of tiger-lilies. Her choice of flower struck Rivière as very characteristic of her own temperament. ”

“ Gentlemen, I recognize you as the three heirs of the Van Huyden estate, you having appeared at the appointed hour."
The same electric throb of joy—joy intense to madness,—ran through the bosoms of the three, but manifested itself in different ways. The diminutive financier bounded from his chair; Godlike uttered an oath; Randolph muttered between his teeth, "The negro is, indeed, then, one of the three." ”

“ But, my dear reader, a muff like Riddell was the captain of a school; and what’s more he didn’t give it up even after the day’s adventures just described.
Riddell was not perfect. I know it is an unheard-of thing for a good boy in a story-book not to be perfect, and that is one reason which convinces me this story of mine must be an impossible one. Riddell was not perfect. He had a fault. Can you believe it—he had many faults? He even had a besetting sin, and that besetting sin was pride. Not the sort of pride that makes you consider yourself better than your neighbours. ”

“ Rivington smiled.
"Because we are tired of waiting," he said.
"You are in a position to marry, then? You are—"
"I am as poor as a church mouse, if you want to know," said Rivington.
"And you will marry on nothing?"
"I dare say we sha'n't starve," said Rivington optimistically.
"Ah!" Again that beast-like snarl. There was no green glare left in the watching eyes—only red, leaping flame. "And—you like poverty?" asked the Indian in the tone of one seeking information.
"I detest it," said Rivington, with unusual energy.
Dinghra drew a step nearer, noiselessly, like a cat. His lips began to smile. ”

“ The way lies by vineyards and olive orchards alternating with open, wind-swept heathland. The stunted olive trees, twisted and gnarled, pictured themselves to him as little old men worn and weary with their fight against the winds. Here the mistral was master and the olive trees his slaves.
At Arles Rivière posted his letter in a box on the platform of the station, and asked of a porter when the next train would take him back to Nîmes. Standing close by as he asked this question was a lean, wiry, crafty-looking peasant of the Camargue—a hard-bit youth toughened by his work on the soil. ”

“ He caught sight of a shapeless something at the further side of the whirlpool, and with all his strength beat round towards it. It was Olive, clinging to an oar.
He reached her; shouted some words of hope above the roar of the wind; searched around the blackness of the night for a place of safety. Thirty yards away, tossed upwards on a giant wave as though in signal to them, there showed for a brief moment the silhouette of an upturned boat, with two men clinging to it.
"Our boat—over there!" he cried to Olive, and clutching her by the arm, fought the combers towards the hope of refuge. ”

“ My uneasiness now grew greater—I felt convinced that Colonel Normanton was not acting straight, and that Miss Rivington ought to be watched. The Colonel's object would be, if report told true, to hurry on the marriage on any pretext, after which he could snap his fingers at us all.
Feeling anxious and uneasy, I called one day at the hospital, and had my first interview with Rivington—he was quite conscious, but was only allowed to speak a few words. The moment he saw me he motioned me to draw near.
“You are the man I want,” he said, in a low whisper, and with the ghost of a smile ”

“ There are only two hotels worthy of the name in Arles, and the coincidence of meeting again was of the very slightest. Yet [Pg 56] somehow he felt subconsciously that the arm of Fate was bringing their two lives together, and he resented it.
The silence between them remained unbroken.
In the evening he wrapped himself in a cloak against the bitter wind rushing down the valley of the Rhone and spreading itself as an invisible fan across the delta, and wandered about the dark alleys of the town, twisting like rabbit-burrows, lighted only here and there with a stray lamp socketed to a stone wall. ”

“ Rivingtons, the proprietors, resumed the editorship of the ‘Annual Register,’ but a serious illness soon compelled him to relinquish the work, and, although a careful and charitable pastor and a good neighbour, he was unable henceforth to undertake much literary work. In 1848 he became rector of Harbledown, near Canterbury. ”

“ Rivière had made no worldly success for himself. The scientific researches he had undertaken made no stir when they found light in the pages of obscure quarterlies circulating amongst a few dozen other men engaged in similar research. Rivière had not the temperament to push himself or the children of his brain. He had settled into a solitary bachelor [Pg 45] life in a small Canadian college—an unknown, unrecognized man—and yet the calm, steady purpose and the calm, passionless happiness of the life had made a deep impression on Clifford Matheson. ”

“ Two years later he established Rivington's New York Loyal Gazette, which became the official British newspaper in America. On December 13 of the same year, he changed the name to the Royal Gazette. In the last years of the Revolution, when British success seemed more and more uncertain, Rivington began to lean toward the Whig side, but he was never trusted by the patriots, and he passed his last years in loneliness and poverty. ”

“ Ringfield, ashamed and bitter, stood and watched this sad scene with folded arms and tightly drawn mouth. Was it true? Was this his work? This dishevelled, staring-eyed, sodden, incoherent creature, shrewdly wise in his cups, had taken the place of the elegant and easy English gentleman, the educated Oxford man, dabbler in high-class verse and prospective happy bridegroom, and what woman would care to have his arm around her now? ”

“ The [Pg 48] position was becoming an intolerable one. He had to choose between the life of the money-maker or that of the creator of a new field of knowledge.
On the night of 14th March the conversation on the platform of the Gare de Lyon and the fight with Lars Larssen had brought the question of decision to a head. He had grappled with it in his office, pacing to and fro long after the shipowner had left. He had turned his steps towards the heights of Montmartre so that he might carry his problem up to the solitude of a high place, in the peace of the eternal stars. ”