PAGE 5
Mr. Casely
by
The young Squire gave an indifferent look and hurried indoors. Within an hour he was walking rather quickly toward the sea, without one sign of the dreaminess that overweighed him when last he took the same road. Presently (he knew it would come) a firm step came over the gravel, and his heart went fast. Before he had got rid of his momentary dimness of sight, he found himself obliged to stammer out something: “You managed the wicket by yourself this time.” The girl laughed brightly. Ellington felt bound to go on speaking–
“You are going over to the Dene?”
“Yes; I think I’ll take the short cut through the Ride.”
“I think, if you don’t mind, we may as well go by the Three Plantations.” He said “we” with the utmost ease, and, noticing no sign of dissent, he walked on by the side of the girl, and a new chapter of his life began.
Neither of them could tell exactly how they came to be walking together, yet each of them would have been disappointed had it not fallen out so. Neither of them had made a definite resolve to meet the other, but the girl had made most calculations on the event. Within a month from that day the pair were strolling under the gloom of the firs in the Three Plantations. This time young Mr. Ellington had his arm round his companion’s waist; her tall figure was leaned towards him.
They were talking low, and the rustling sound of their whispers echoed a little beneath the sombre arch of the trees.
They came to the little bridge which crossed the head of the Dean, and then he took both her hands and said, “Now, good-bye; to-morrow at the high end of the New Plantation.” They had got to daily meetings within that short month.
“I’ll be there. You won’t mind if I’m a bit behind time? Sometimes they want me, and I don’t care for my father to ask where I’m going.”
“I’ve promised to wait for you, darling, half a lifetime, if need be. Why should I grudge an hour?”
This question was not articulately answered, but the reply was satisfactory. Then the couple parted.
So it happened that in a few brief weeks this quiet young man had drifted into a disgraceful intrigue. He did not think it disgraceful, because he had not reflected at all. The future was barred to him, and he lived from one day to another content with the joy that the day brought. He had made promises with rash profusion, and his promises had been believed. Further and further he had been drawn, till the fire of his blood made him fancy that he was proceeding voluntarily.
To Mary Casely the whole affair seemed quite natural. She knew nothing about the pitiful stories of village maidens which make so much of the stock of fiction. She had never read a story, so she fancied that her secret meetings were part of the fixed order of life. She happened to have a sweetheart who dressed well and spoke beautifully, and that was all the difference between her and other girls. Besides this, she was a singularly determined young woman. She had made up her mind to marry the young Squire; he in his folly had given no single hint of the vast, the insuperable difficulties that lay in the way; and so the bitter business went on.
The summer passed into autumn, and late November came. Such an affair as that of Mary Casely and the young Squire could not be long kept out of the reach of acrid village gossip. Once or twice, as young Ellington walked out of church from the pew by the chancel, he fancied he saw the gardeners and farm-people looking at him with intelligence, and he felt something catching at his throat.
When December came in, his misery had grown to acuteness. His old passive wretchedness had given way to a settled nervous dread which wore the brightness from his comely face.