LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

they would have seen a look of dismay flit across her countenance and pass into one of annoyance. When the talk had gone on for a few minutes Adela interposed a question.

      ‘Will Mr. Mutimer stay for tea also, do you think, Alfred?’

      ‘Oh, of course; why shouldn’t he?’

      It is the country habit; Adela might have known what answer she would receive. She got out of the difficulty by means of a little disingenuousness.

      ‘He won’t want us to talk about Socialism all the time, will he?’

      ‘Of course not, my dear,’ replied Mrs. Waltham. ‘Why, it will be Sunday.’ 4

      Alfred shouted in mirthful scorn.

      ‘Well, that’s one of the finest things I’ve heard for a long time, mother! It’ll be Sunday, and therefore we are not to talk about improving the lot of the human race. Ye gods!’

      Mrs. Waltham was puzzled for an instant, but the Puritan assurance did not fail her.

      ‘Yes, but that is only improvement of their bodies, Alfred—food and clothing. The six days are for that you know.’

      ‘Mother, mother, you will kill me! You are so uncommonly funny! I wonder your friends haven’t long ago found some way of doing without bodies altogether. Now, I pray you, do not talk nonsense. Surely that is forbidden on the Sabbath, if only the Jewish one.’

      ‘Mother is quite right, Alfred,’ remarked Adela, with quiet affimativeness, as soon as her voice could be heard. ‘Your Socialism is earthly; we have to think of other things besides bodily comforts.’

      ‘Who said we hadn’t?’ cried her brother. ‘But I take leave to inform you that you won’t get much spiritual excellence out of a man who lives a harder life than the nigger-slaves. If you women could only put aside your theories and look a little at obstinate facts! You’re all of a piece. Which of you was it that talked the other day about getting the vicar to pray for rain? Ho, ho, ho! Just the same kind of thing.’

      Alfred’s combativeness had grown markedly since his making acquaintance with Mutimer. He had never excelled in the suaver virtues, and now the whole of the time he spent at home was devoted to vociferous railing at capitalists, priests, and women, his mother and sister serving for illustrations of the vices prevalent in the last-mentioned class. In talking he always paced the room, hands in pockets, and at times fairly stammered in his endeavour to hit upon sufficiently trenchant epithets or comparisons. When reasoning failed with his auditors, he had recourse to volleys of contemptuous laughter. At times he lost his temper, muttered words such as ‘fools!’—‘idiots!’ and flung out into the open air. It looked as if the present evening was to be a stormy one. Adela noted the presage and allowed herself a protest in limine.

      ‘Alfred, I do hope you won’t go on in this way whilst Letty is here. You mayn’t think it, but you pain her very much.’

      ‘Pain her! It’s her education. She’s had none yet, no more than you have. It’s time you both began to learn.’

      It being close upon the hour for tea, the young lady of whom there was question was heard to ring the door-bell. We have already had a passing glimpse of her, but since then she has been honoured by becoming Alfred’s affianced. Letty Tew fulfilled all the conditions desirable in one called to so trying a destiny. She was a pretty, supple, sweet-mannered girl, and, as is the case with such girls, found it possible to worship a man whom in consistency she must have deemed the most condemnable of heretics. She and Adela were close friends; Adela indeed, had no other friend in the nearer sense. The two were made of very different fibre, but that had not as yet distinctly shown.

      Adela’s reproof was not wholly without effect; her brother got through the evening without proceeding to his extremest truculence, still the conversation was entirely of his leading, consequently not a little argumentative. He had brought home, as he always did on Saturday, a batch of ultra periodicals, among them the ‘Fiery Cross,’ and his own eloquence was supplemented by the reading of excerpts from these lively columns. It was a combat of three to one, but the majority did little beyond throwing up hands at anything particularly outrageous. Adela said much less than usual. ‘I tell you what it is, you three!’ Alfred cried, at a certain climax of enthusiasm, addressing the ladies with characteristic courtesy, ‘we’ll found a branch of the Union in Wanley; I mean, in our particular circle of thickheads. Then, as soon as Mutimer’s settlement gets going, we can coalesce. Now you two girls give next week to going round and soliciting subscriptions for the “Fiery Cross.” People have had time to get over the first scare, and you know they can’t refuse such as you. Quarterly, one-and-eightpence, including postage.’

      ‘But, my dear Alfred,’ cried Adela, ‘remember that Letty and I are not Socialists!’

      ‘Letty is, because I expect it of her, and you can’t refuse to keep her in countenance.’

      The girls laughed merrily at this anticipated lordship; but Letty said presently—

      ‘I believe father will take the paper if I ask him. One is better than nothing, isn’t it, Alfred?’

      ‘Good. We book Stephen Tew, Esquire.’

      ‘But surely you mustn’t call him Esquire?’ suggested Adela.

      ‘Oh, he is yet unregenerate; let him keep his baubles.’

      ‘How are the regenerate designated?’

      ‘Comrade, we prefer.’

      ‘Also applied to women?’

      ‘Well, I suppose not. As the word hasn’t a feminine, call yourselves plain Letty Tew and Adela Waltham, without meaningless prefix.’

      ‘What nonsense you are talking, Alfred!’ remarked his mother. ‘As if everybody in Wanley could address young ladies by their Christian names!’

      In this way did Alfred begin the ‘propaganda’ at home. Already the village was much occupied with the vague new doctrines represented by the name of Richard Mutimer; the parlour of the Wheatsheaf was loud of evenings with extraordinary debate, and gossips of a higher station had at length found a topic which promised to be inexhaustible. Of course the vicar was eagerly sounded as to his views. Mr. Wyvern preserved an attitude of scrupulous neutrality, contenting himself with correction of palpable absurdities in the stories going about. ‘But surely you are not a Socialist, Mr. Wyvern?’ cried Mrs. Mewling, after doing her best to pump the reverend gentleman, and discovering nothing. ‘I am a Christian, madam,’ was the reply, ‘and have nothing to do with economic doctrines.’ Mrs. Mewling spread the phrase ‘economic doctrines,’ shaking her head upon the adjective, which was interpreted by her hearers as condemnatory in significance. The half-dozen shopkeepers were disposed to secret jubilation; it was probable that, in consequence of the doings in the valley, trade would look up. Mutimer himself was a centre of interest such as Wanley had never known. When he walked down the street the news that he was visible seemed to spread like wildfire; every house had its gazers. Excepting the case of the Walthams, he had not as yet sought to make personal acquaintances, appearing rather to avoid opportunities. On the whole it seemed likely that he would be popular. The little group of mothers with marriageable daughters waited eagerly for the day when, by establishing himself at the Manor, he would throw off the present semi-incognito, and become the recognised head of Wanley society. He would discover the necessity of having a lady to share his honours and preside at his table. Persistent inquiry seemed to have settled the fact that he was not married already. To be sure, there were awesome rumours that Socialists repudiated laws divine and human in matrimonial affairs, but the more sanguine were inclined to regard this as calumny, their charity finding a support in their personal ambitions. The interest formerly attaching to the Eldons had altogether vanished. Mrs. Eldon and her son were now mere obstacles to be got rid of as quickly as possible. It was the general opinion that Hubert Eldon’s illness was purposely protracted, to suit his mother’s convenience. Until Mutimer’s arrival there had been much talk about Hubert; whether owing to Dr. Mann’s indiscretion or through the servants at the Manor, it had become known that the young man was suffering from a bullet-wound, and the story circulated by Mrs. Mewling led gossips

Скачать книгу