CHAPTER XVIII
MR. HAZLEWOOD SEEKS ADVICE
As Dick was getting out of bed at half-past seven a troubled little notewas brought to him written hurriedly and almost incoherent.
"Dick, I can't ride with you this morning. I am too tired ... and I don'tthink we should meet again. You must forget last night. I shall be veryproud always to remember it, but I won't ruin you, Dick. You mustn'tthink I shall suffer so very much ..." Dick read it all through with asmile of tenderness upon his face. He wrote a line in reply. "I will comeand see you at eleven, Stella. Meanwhile sleep, my dear," and sent itacross to the cottage. Then he rolled back into bed again and took hisown advice. It was late when he came down into the dining-room and hetook his breakfast alone.
"Where's my father?" he asked of Hubbard the butler.
"Mr. Hazlewood breakfasted half an hour ago, sir. He's at work now."
"Capital," said Dick. "Give me some sausages. Hubbard, what would you sayif I told you that I was going to be married?"
Hubbard placed a plate in front of him.
"I should keep my head, sir," he answered in his gentle voice. "Will youtake tea?"
"Thank you."
Dick looked out of the window. It was a morning of clear skies andsunlight, a very proper morning for this the first of all the remarkabledays which one after the other were going especially to belong to him. Hewas of the gods now. The world was his property, or rather he held it intrust for Stella. It was behaving well; Dick Hazlewood was contented. Heate a large breakfast and strolling into the library lit his pipe. Therewas his father bending over his papers at his writing-table before thewindow, busy as a bee no doubt at some new enthusiasm which was destinedto infuriate his neighbours. Let him go on! Dick smiled benignly at theold man's back. Then he frowned. It was curious that his father had notwished him a good-morning, curious and unusual.
"I hope, sir, that you slept well," he said.
"I did not, Richard," and still the back was turned to him. "I lay awakeconsidering with some care what you told me last night about--aboutStella Ballantyne."
Of late she had been simply Stella to Harold Hazlewood. The addition ofBallantyne was significant. It replaced friendliness with formality.
"Yes, we agreed to champion her cause, didn't we?" said Dick cheerily."You took one good step forward last night, I took another."
"You took a long stride, Richard, and I think you might have consultedme first."
Dick walked over to the table at which his father sat.
"Do you know, that's just what Stella said," he remarked, and he seemedto find the suggestion rather unintelligible. Mr. Hazlewood snatched atany support which was offered to him.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, and for the first time that morning he looked his sonin the face. "There now, Richard, you see!"
"Yes," Richard returned imperturbably. "But I was able to remove allher fears. I was able to tell her that you would welcome our marriagewith all your heart, for you would look upon it as a triumph for yourprinciples and a sure sign that my better nature was at lastthoroughly awake."
Dick walked away from the table. The old man's face lengthened. If he wasa philosopher at all, he was a philosopher in a piteous position, for hewas having his theories tested upon himself, he was to be the experimentby which they should be proved or disproved.
"No doubt," he said in a lamentable voice. "Quite so, Richard. Yes," andhe caught at vague hopes of delay. "There's no hurry of course. For onething I don't want to lose you... And then you have your career to thinkof, haven't you?" Mr. Hazlewood found himself here upon ground more solidand leaned his weight on it. "Yes, there's your career."
Dick returned to his father, amazement upon his face. He spoke as one whocannot believe the evidence of his ears.
"But it's in the army, father! Do you realise what you are saying? Youwant me to think of my career in the British Army?"
Consistency however had no charms for Mr. Hazlewood at this moment.
"Exactly," he cried. "We don't want to prejudice that--do we? No, no,Richard! Oh, I hear the finest things about you. And they push the youngmen along nowadays. You don't have to wait for grey hairs before you'remade a General, Richard, so we must keep an eye on our prospects, eh? Andfor that reason it would be advisable perhaps"--and the old man's eyesfell from Dick's face to his papers--"yes, it would certainly beadvisable to let your engagement remain for a while just a private matterbetween the three of us."
He took up his pen as though the matter was decided and discussion at anend. But Dick did not move from his side. He was the stronger of the twoand in a little while the old man's eyes wandered up to his face again.There was a look there which Margaret Pettifer had seen a week ago. Dickspoke and the voice he used was strange and formidable to his father.
"There must be no secrecy, father. I remember what you said: foruncharitable slander an English village is impossible to beat. Our secretwould be known within a week and by attempting to keep it we invitesuspicion. Nothing could be more damaging to Stella than secrecy.Consequently nothing could be more damaging to me. I don't deny thatthings are going to be a little difficult. But of this I am sure"--andhis voice, though it still was quiet, rang deep with confidence--"our onechance is to hold our heads high. No secrecy, father! My hope is to makea life which has been very troubled know some comfort and a littlehappiness."
Mr. Hazlewood had no more to say. He must renounce his gods or hold histongue. And renounce his gods--no, that he could not do. He heard inimagination the whole neighbourhood laughing--he saw it a sea of laughteroverwhelming him. He shivered as he thought of it. He, Harold Hazlewood,the man emancipated from the fictions of society, caught like a sillystruggling fish in the net of his own theories! No, that must never be.He flung himself at his work. He was revising the catalogue of hisminiatures and in a minute he began to fumble and search about hisover-loaded desk.
"Everybody is trying to thwart me this morning," he cried angrily.
"What's the matter, father?" asked Dick, laying down the _Times_."Can I help?"
"I wrote a question to _Notes and Queries_ about the Marie Antoinetteminiature which I bought at Lord Mirliton's sale and there was an answerin the last number, a very complete answer. But I can't find it. I can'tfind it anywhere"; and he tossed his papers about as though he werepunishing them.
Dick helped in the search, but beyond a stray copy or two of _The PrisonWalls must Cast no Shadow_, there was no publication to be found at all.
"Wait a bit, father," said Dick suddenly. "What is _Notes and Queries_like? The only notes and queries I read are contained in a pink paper.They are very amusing but they do not deal with miniatures."
Mr. Hazlewood described the appearance of the little magazine.
"Well, that's very extraordinary," said Dick, "for Aunt Margaret took itaway last night."
Mr. Hazlewood looked at his son in blank astonishment.
"Are you sure, Richard?"
"I saw it in her hand as she stepped into her carriage."
Mr. Hazlewood banged his fist upon the table.
"It's extremely annoying of Margaret," he exclaimed. "She takes nointerest in such matters. She is not, if I may use the word, a virtuoso.She did it solely to annoy me."
"Well, I wonder," said Dick. He looked at his watch. It was eleveno'clock. He went out into the hall, picked up a straw hat and walkedacross the meadow to the thatched cottage on the river-bank. But while hewent he was still wondering why in the world Margaret had taken away thatharmless little magazine from his father's writing-table. "Pettifer's atthe bottom of it," he concluded. "There's a foxy fellow for you. I'llkeep my eye on Uncle Robert." He was near to the cottage. Only a railseparated its garden from the meadow. Beyond the garden a window stoodopen and within the room he saw the flutter of a lilac dress.
From the window of the library Mr. Hazlewood watched his son open thegarden gate. Then he unlocked a drawer of his writing-table and took outa large sealed envelope. He broke the seal
and drew from the envelope asheaf of press cuttings. They were the verbatim reports of StellaBallantyne's trial, which had been printed day by day in the _Times ofIndia_. He had sent for them months ago when he had blithely taken uponhimself the defence of Stella Ballantyne. He had read them with a growingardour. So harshly had she lived; so shadowless was her innocence. Heturned to them now in a different spirit. Pettifer had been left by theEnglish summaries of the trial with a vague feeling of doubt. Mr.Hazlewood respected Robert Pettifer. The lawyer was cautious, deliberate,unemotional--qualities with which Hazlewood had instinctively littlesympathy. But on the other hand he was not bound hand and foot inprejudice. He could be liberal in his judgments. He had a mind clearenough to divide what reason had to say and the presumptions ofconvention. Suppose that Pettifer was after all right! The old man'sheart sank within him. Then indeed this marriage must be prevented--andthe truth must be made known--yes, widely known. He himself had beendeceived--like many another man before him. It was not ridiculous to havebeen deceived. He remained at all events consistent to his principles.There was his pamphlet to be sure, _The Prison Walls must Cast noShadow_ that gave him an uncomfortable twinge. But he reassured himself.
"There I argue that, once the offence has been expiated, all theprivileges should be restored. But if Pettifer is right there has been noexpiation."
That saving clause let him out. He did not thus phrase the position evento himself. He clothed it in other and high-sounding words. It was afterall a sort of convention to accept acquittal as the proof of innocence.But at the back of his mind from first to last there was an immense fearof the figure which he himself would cut if he refused his consent tothe marriage on any ground except that of Stella Ballantyne's guilt. ForStella herself, the woman, he had no kindness to spare that morning.Yesterday he had overflowed with it. For yesterday she had been one moreproof to the world how high he soared above it.
"Since Pettifer's in doubt," he said to himself, "there must be someflaw in this trial which I overlooked in the heat of my sympathy"; andto discover that flaw he read again every printed detail of it from themorning when Stella first appeared before the stipendiary magistrate tothat other morning a month later when the verdict was given. And hefound no flaw. Stella's acquittal was inevitable on the evidence. Therewas much to show what provocation she had suffered, but there was noproof that she had yielded to it. On the contrary she had endured solong, the presumption must be that she would go on enduring to the end.And there was other evidence--positive evidence given by Thresk whichcould not be gainsaid.
Mr. Hazlewood replaced his cuttings in the drawer; and he was utterlydiscontented. He had hoped for another result. There was only one pointwhich puzzled him and that had nothing really to do with the trial, butit puzzled him so much that it slipped out at luncheon.
"Richard," he said, "I cannot understand why the name of Thresk is sofamiliar to me."
Dick glanced quickly at his father.
"You have been reading over again the accounts of the trial."
Mr. Hazlewood looked confused.
"And a very natural proceeding, Richard," he declared. "But while readingover the trial I found the name Thresk familiar to me in anotherconnection, but I cannot remember what the connection is."
Dick could not help him, nor was he at that time concerned by the failureof his father's memory. He was engaged in realising that here was anotherenemy for Stella. Knowing his father, he was not greatly surprised, buthe thought it prudent to attack without delay.
"Stella will be coming over to tea this afternoon," he said.
"Will she, Richard?" the father replied, twisting uncomfortably in hischair. "Very well--of course."
"Hubbard knows of my engagement, by the way," Dick continued implacably.
"Hubbard! God bless my soul!" cried the old man. "It'll be all over thevillage already."
"I shouldn't wonder," replied Dick cheerfully. "I told him before I sawyou this morning, whilst I was having breakfast."
Mr. Hazlewood remained silent for a while. Then he burst out petulantly:
"Richard, there's something I must speak to you seriously about: thelateness of your hours in the morning. I have noticed it with greatregret. It is not considerate to the servants and it cannot be healthyfor you. Such indolence too must be enervating to your mind."
Dick forbore to remind his father that he was usually out of the housebefore seven.
"Father," he said, at once a very model of humility, "I will endeavourto reform."
Mr. Hazlewood concealed his embarrassment at teatime under a show ofover-work. He had a great deal to do--just a moment for a cup of tea--nomore. There was to be a meeting of the County Council the next morningwhen a most important question of small holdings was to come up fordiscussion. Mr. Hazlewood held the strongest views. He was engaged inshaping them in the smallest possible number of words. To be brief, to bevivid--there was the whole art of public speaking. Mr. Hazlewoodchattered feverishly for five minutes; he had come in chattering, he wentout chattering.
"That's all right, Stella, you see," said Dick cheerfully when theywere left alone. Stella nodded her head. Mr. Hazlewood had not said oneword in recognition of her engagement but she had made her little fightthat morning. She had yielded and she could not renew it. She had spentthree miserable hours framing reasonable arguments why last nightshould be forgotten. But the sight of her lover coming across themeadow had set her heart so leaping that she could only stammer out afew tags and phrases.
"Oh, I wish you hadn't come!" she had repeated and repeated and all thewhile her blood was leaping in her body for joy that he had. She hadpromised in the end to stand firm, to stand by his side and brave--what,after all, but the clamour of a week? So he put it and so she was eagerto believe.
Mr. Hazelwood, busy though he made himself out to be, found time thatevening to drive in his motor-car into Great Beeding, and when the Londontrain pulled up at the station he was on the platform. He lookedanxiously at the passengers who descended until he saw Robert Pettifer.He went up to him at once.
"What in the world are you doing here?" asked the lawyer.
"I came on purpose to catch you, Robert. I want to speak to you inprivate. My car is here. If you will get into it with me we can driveslowly towards your house."
Pettifer's face changed, but he could not refuse. Hazlewood was agitatedand nervous; of his ordinary complacency there was no longer a trace.Pettifer got into the car and as it moved away from the station he asked:
"Now what's the matter?"
"I have been thinking over what you said last night, Robert. You had avague feeling of doubt. Well, I have the verbatim reports of the trial inBombay here in this envelope and I want you to read them carefullythrough and give me your opinion." He held out the envelope as he spoke,but Pettifer thrust his hands into his pockets.
"I won't touch it," he declared. "I refuse to mix myself up in the affairat all. I said more than I meant to last night."
"But you did say it, Robert."
"Then I withdraw it now."
"But you can't, Robert. You must go further. Something has happenedto-day, something very serious."
"Oh?" said Pettifer.
"Yes," replied Mr. Hazlewood. "Margaret really has more insight than Icredited her with. They propose to get married."
Pettifer sat upright in the car.
"You mean Dick and Stella Ballantyne?"
"Yes."
And for a little while there was silence in the car. Then Mr. Hazlewoodcontinued to bleat.
"I never suspected anything of the kind. It places me, Robert, in a verydifficult position."
"I can quite see that," answered Pettifer with a grim smile. "It's reallythe only consoling element in the whole business. You can't refuse yourconsent without looking a fool and you can't give it while you are in anydoubt as to Mrs. Ballantyne's innocence."
Mr. Hazlewood was not, however, quite prepared to accept that definitionof his position.
"You don't exhaust the possibilities, Robert," he said. "I can quitewell refuse my consent and publicly refuse it if there are reasonablegrounds for believing that there was in that trial a grave miscarriageof justice."
Mr. Pettifer looked sharply at his companion. The voice no less than thewords fixed his attention. This was not the Mr. Hazlewood of yesterday.The champion had dwindled into a figure of meanness. Harold Hazlewoodwould be glad to discover those reasonable grounds; and he would be verymuch obliged if Robert Pettifer would take upon himself theresponsibility of discovering them.
"Yes, I see," said Pettifer slowly. He was half inclined to leave HaroldHazlewood to find his way out of his trouble by himself. It was all hismaking after all. But other and wider considerations began to press uponPettifer. He forced himself to omit altogether the subject of Hazlewood'svanities and entanglements.
"Very well. Give the cuttings to me! I will read them through and I willlet you know my opinion. Their intention to marry may altereverything--my point of view as much as yours."
Mr. Pettifer took the envelope in his hand and got out of the car assoon as Hazlewood had stopped it.
"You have raised no objections to the engagement?" he asked.
"A word to Richard this morning. Of not much effect I am afraid."
Mr. Pettifer nodded.
"Right. I should say nothing to anybody. You can't take a decided lineagainst it at present and to snarl would be the worst policy imaginable.To-day's Thursday. We'll meet on Saturday. Good-night," and RobertPettifer walked away to his own house.
He walked slowly, wondering at the eternal mystery by which thisparticular man and that individual woman select each other out of thethrong. He owed the greater part of his fortune to the mystery like manyanother lawyer. But to-night he would willingly have yielded a goodportion of it up if that process of selection could be ordered in a morereasonable way. Love? The attraction of Sex? Yes, no doubt. But why thesetwo specimens of Sex? Why Dick and Stella Ballantyne?
When he reached his house his wife hurried forward to meet him. Alreadyshe had the news. There was an excitement in her face not to bemisunderstood. The futile time-honoured phrase of triumph so ready on thelips of those who have prophesied evil was trembling upon hers.
"Don't say it, Margaret," said Pettifer very seriously. "We have come toa pass where light words will lead us astray. Hazlewood has been with me.I have the reports of the trial here."
Margaret Pettifer put a check upon her tongue and they dined togetheralmost in complete silence. Pettifer was methodically getting his ownpoint of view quite clearly established in his mind, so that whatever hedid or advised he might be certain not to swerve from it afterwards. Heweighed his inclinations and his hopes, and when the servants had leftthe dining-room and he had lit his cigar he put his case before his wife.
"Listen, Margaret! You know your brother. He is always in extremes. Heswings from one to the other. He is terrified now lest this marriageshould take place."
"No wonder," interposed Mrs. Pettifer.
Pettifer made no comment upon the remark.
"Therefore," he continued, "he is anxious that I should discover in thesereports some solid reason for believing that the verdict which acquittedStella Ballantyne was a grave miscarriage of justice. For any such reasonmust have weight."
"Of course," said Mrs. Pettifer.
"And will justify him--this is his chief consideration--in withholdingpublicly his consent."
"I see."
Only a week ago Dick himself had observed that sentimentalphilosophers had a knack of breaking their heads against their owntheories. The words had been justified sooner than she had expected.Mrs. Pettifer was not surprised at Harold Hazlewood's swift change anymore than her husband had been. Harold, to her thinking, was asentimentalist and sentimentality was like a fir-tree--a thing of nodeep roots and easily torn up.
"But I do not take that view, Margaret," continued her husband, and shelooked at him with consternation. Was he now to turn champion, he whoonly yesterday had doubted? "And I want you to consider whether you canagree with me. There is to begin with the woman herself, StellaBallantyne. I saw her for the first time yesterday, and to be quitehonest I liked her, Margaret. Yes. It seemed to me that there was nothingwhatever of the adventuress about her. And I was impressed--I will gofurther, I was moved--dry-as-dust old lawyer as I am, by something--Howshall I express it without being ridiculous?" He paused and searched inhis vocabulary and gave up the search. "No, the epithet which occurred tome yesterday at the dinner-table and immediately, still seems to me theonly true one--I was moved by something in this woman of tragicexperiences which was strangely virginal."
One quick movement was made by Margaret Pettifer. The truth of herhusband's description was a revelation, so exact it was. Therein layStella Ballantyne's charm, and her power to create champions and friends.Her history was known to you, the miseries of her marriage, the suspicionof crime. You expected a woman of adventures and lo! there stood beforeyou one with "something virginal" in her appearance and her manner, whichmade its soft and irresistible appeal.
"I recognise that feeling of mine," Pettifer resumed, "and I try to putit aside. And putting it aside I ask myself and you, Margaret, this:Here's a woman who has been through a pretty bad time, who has beenunhappy, who has stood in the dock, who has been acquitted. Is it quitefair that when at last she has floated into a haven of peace two privatepeople like Hazlewood and myself should take it upon ourselves to reviewthe verdict and perhaps reverse it?"
"But there's Dick, Robert," cried Mrs. Pettifer. "There's Dick. Surelyhe's our first thought."
"Yes, there's Dick," Mr. Pettifer repeated. "And Dick's my second point.You are all worrying about Dick from the social point of view--theexternal point of view. Well, we have got to take that into ourconsideration. But we are bound to look at him, the man, as well. Don'tforget that, Margaret! Well, I find the two points of view identical. Butour neighbours won't. Will you?"
Mrs. Pettifer was baffled.
"I don't understand," she said.
"I'll explain. From the social standpoint what's really important asregards Dick? That he should go out to dinner? No. That he should havechildren? Yes!"
And here Mrs. Pettifer interposed again.
"But they must be the right children," she exclaimed. "Better that heshould have none than that he should have children--"
"With an hereditary taint," Pettifer agreed. "Admitted, Margaret. If wecome to the conclusion that Stella Ballantyne did what she was accused ofdoing we, in spite of all the verdicts in the world, are bound to resistthis marriage. I grant it. Because of that conviction I dismiss the pleathat we are unfair to the woman in reviewing the trial. There are wider,greater considerations."
These were the first words of comfort which Mrs. Pettifer had heard sinceher husband began to expound. She received them with enthusiasm.
"I am so glad to hear that."
"Yes, Margaret," Pettifer retorted drily. "But please ask yourselfthis question: (it is where, to my thinking, the social and thepersonal elements join) if this marriage is broken off, is Dick likelyto marry at all?"
"Why not?" asked Margaret.
"He is thirty-four. He has had, no doubt, many opportunities ofmarriage. He must have had. He is good-looking, well off and a goodfellow. This is the first time he has wanted to marry. If he isdisappointed here will he try again?"
Mrs. Pettifer laughed, moved by the remarkable depreciation of her ownsex which women of her type so often have. It was for man to throw thehandkerchief. Not a doubt but there would be a rush to pick it up!
"Widowers who have been devoted to their wives marry again," she argued.
"A point for me, Margaret!" returned Pettifer. "Widowers--yes. They missso much--the habit of a house with a woman its mistress, thecompanionship, the order, oh, a thousand small but important things. Buta man who has remained a bachelor until he's thirty-four--that's adifferent case. If he sets his heart at that age, seriously,
for thefirst time on a woman and does not get her, that's the kind of man who,my experience suggests to me--I put it plainly, Margaret--will take oneor more mistresses to himself but no wife."
Mrs. Pettifer deferred to the worldly knowledge of her husband but sheclung to her one clear argument.
"Nothing could be worse," she said frankly, "than that he should marry aguilty woman."
"Granted, Margaret," replied Mr. Pettifer imperturbably. "Only supposethat she's not guilty. There are you and I, rich people, and no one toleave our money to--no one to carry on your name--no one we care a rapabout to benefit by my work and your brother's fortune--no one of thefamily to hand over Little Beeding to."
Both of them were silent after he had spoken. He had touched upon theirone great sorrow. Margaret herself had her roots deep in the soil ofLittle Beeding. It was hateful to her that the treasured house shouldever pass to strangers, as it would do if this the last branch of thefamily failed.
"But Stella Ballantyne was married for seven years," she said at last,"and there were no children."
"No, that's true," replied Pettifer. "But it does not follow that with asecond marriage there will be none. It's a chance, I know, but--" andhe got up from his chair. "I do honestly believe that it's the onlychance you and I will have, Margaret, of dying with the knowledge thatour lives have not been altogether vain. We've lighted our little torch.Yes, and it burns merrily enough, but what's the use unless at theappointed mile-stone there's another of us to take it and carry it on?"
He stood looking down at his wife with a wistful and serious lookupon his face.
"Dick's past the age of calf-love. We can't expect him to tumble from onepassion to another; and he's not easily moved. Therefore I hope verysincerely that these reports which I am now going to read will enable meto go boldly to Harold Hazlewood and say: 'Stella Ballantyne is asguiltless of this crime as you or I.'"
Mr. Pettifer took up the big envelope which he had placed on the tablebeside him and carried it away to his study.