A Warwickshire Episode,

Evening Post, Volume LXXIV, Issue 18, 20 July 1907, Page 10

A Warwickshire Episode,

By Jub-riN Huntlt McCauthi, Author of '• When I Was King," eto. (All Rights Reserved.)

Mr. Jothro Dexter handled his trap Out of the Woolpack stable-yard at Warwick with a neat touch, saluted with his whip the sufficiently approving groom, ond made his way towards the main street with » -light Hand and a light heart. It was such a* Sunday morning as Jethro Dexter loved best, in his pleasant epicurean way. rHe had - travelled thousands of sea miles to takehis easo in Warwickshire. Stratford-on-Ayon was his goal, Strat-fofd-on-Avon of his dreams. •„He had earned his leisure with hard work; self-denials in the past hau filled his' present pockets; whilo leisure and treasuro lasted he was king of the road and his throno was borne upon a pair of -yellow wheels. Ohio seemed a thousand years away; surely all his \iie had been passed on these delightful roads, in this delightful weather, on this do- „ lightful vehicle. .Jethro Dexter, the self-possessed, the natively Austere, was! impishly visited with a mad desiro to sing, to drink, to love. The first was easy to gratify. With a stretch of lonely rpad before him ho began to carol lustily. "It was a lover and his lass," to a tuno he had heard long ago at Daly's theatre. As to the second, why his wits were swimming in the wine of time. -As fox the third! v A kindly wayside signpost told him that he was within a mile of Stratford, aijcl that Warwick lay seven miles to his heels, when from a house on the right hand sido of the road, so girt yboii^ with trees that he had but dimly noticed some ruddy shoulder of it through the green wall, a woman emerged" She had run rapidly across the lawn, for she was panting as she lifted the* latch of the gateway, and sho was panting as she let tho gate swing-to behind her, and catching at her skirts made to run in the direction oi Stratford. Dexter saw in a flash that she was young, that she was plump, that she was dark-haired, that she was dressed in a cool blue raiment that fluttered around her slim ankles. Dexter thought that she ran prettily — all women nm not so — and was wondering why she ran at all on so warm a morning when his intelligence, that had been lulled to semi-slumber by the calm of easy travel, suQdenly quickened and gave him answer. _. He had been indifferently aware for some little timo past that the morning had become musical with tho beating of balls, and ho had taken tho bells quietly for granted as a needed and pleasing portion of a pleasing world, without, for tho time being, actively realising their significance. Vagrant heathen that ho was, he had forgotten that it was Sunday, that good men — and incidentally good women — wero being knolled to prayers. Successive to this timely" recollection camo tho certainty that the girl in tho flowing blue gown Was making for church, and anxiously afraid — to tho point of breathless running — of being late in arrival. Jethro looked from tho nimble, brceze-fiuttered figure ahead of him along tho winding rpad to where, in the distance — a still considerable distance —he could sco the tower of a building that played at being mediaeval, and beyond that c. slender spire, the sight whbrcof should have thrilled his pulses. 'But for the moment Jethro's pulses only thrilled with concern for tho girl in tho blue gown who was alternately running and then slackening her speed to a distressed tvot, and then running again. "Jethr<? had passed her by aow, and in passing saw that she was very pretty with' a girlish, almost immature | prefitiaess,,.her smooth cheeks pink from cpeed; some curls of her dark hair shaken loose — through that same speed •i-and dancing naughtily under the brim of her largo ait. Jethro afterwards assured himself most -.vehemently that ho would have done what he. did do just tho same ilildjMSt" as' readily if the face revealed to, Jixin the large hat had proved plain, cbmroonplace, insignificant, pimpled, wrinkled, dull, or frankly jiideous. That is a3 it may bo ; this at. least is what, on a sudden impluse, Jethro Dexter did. Ho slackened the pace of his nag, then brought it to a- standstill on the white highway, as the panting girl came anigh him, and quite unwarrantably and audaciously addressed her. "I beg your pardon," he said pleaiantly, "but I h think you are making ' ' for church, and I think also that you ,w,ill be dreadfully late." The girl had stopped at the sound of ' his voice and was staring up at ,him with surprised dark eyes while she panted. Jethro did not give her time to realise the enormous bulk of his impertinence. "I am a stranger here," he ran on glibly — and. indeed was surprised by the way at his own glibness and coolness —"and I am going to Stratford. Please let me give you a lift so far. That will bring you to church in good time, and I will promise not to say a single word to you during the whole of the drive." The first puzzled -. look had passed from the face of the girl, and she gazed now up at Jethro with a frank calmness equal to his own reigning in her dark eyes. There was a second or so of silence as she studied his grave clean-cut face attentively; then she nodded good-humouredly. "It is very kind of you," she said in a smooth tuneful voice that mado the young man, for some inexplicable reagbn, think of violets, "to offer mo a lift, and it would be foolish of me to refuse it under the circumstances." She ■ glanced at the sky as sho spoke, over which some dark clouds were drifting, threatening a summer shower. Jethro, delighted, held out his hand to her nngloved grasp, for thanks to her hurry she carried her gloves in her left hand, to don them while she ran. In another moment she had swung to his side and the horse was in motion again and the way shortened as the clouds lengthened. True to his promise Dexter kept his mouth shut : more than true to his promise he kept his gaze straight ahead of him between the ears of his nag, though it was hotly his desiro to acrutinise the pretty face so close to him. But ho had not long to play the Spartan, for the voice ' that suggested violets again gave tongue with a tranquility that masked mirth. "After all, there is no reason why we should sit mumchance." she proiested ; then alter an infinitesimal pauso ahe added slily, "unless of course you prefer it." i Jethro protested vehemently in hiS turn. He had only made tho selfdenying suggestion in apology for the unconventionally of his proffered aid. The gill shook her head, and the dark curls danced merrily under the brim of " the big hat. ' "Conventionalities must give way in the case of fellow-travellers," she asserted. "We are both going to Stratford, and bo far are in sympathy. If you had not taken pity on my Weed I ffioulJ' certainly have been late for eburch, and probably have been wetted into the bargain." Jethro, delighted that she took the adventure so sensibly, used the opjkm> .

tunity of turning to answer her to observe her face keenly. It was metro than merely pretty ; moro than adorably young : there was refinement on the smooth surface, there were wits behind tho dainty skin, there was experience, surely there was even sorrow m those shining eyes of youth. He glanced quickly at th( ungloved left hand and found the third nnger ringless, though the middle finger carried some old fashioned diamond hoop rings. He wondered who she was, and wished ho had moro time to wonder in her company, for by now they wero, under the guidance of the girl's gesture, in tho high street of Stratford. Dexter ought to havo been thinking of nothing but of his joy on entering for the first timo into the town of Shakespeare. Unfortunately for tho spirit of the appropriate, his mind was wholly devoted tO'* his unexpected, fair companion. "Which way to tho church?" he whis-' pered, and she motioned him grace- | fully into Chapel-street. Tho adventure seemed running to an unsatisfactory end. Ho was indifferently conscious of a quaint street with many gabled houses, of an ancient church-tower with clock, of many people in Sunday garb speeding to their devotions, of an atmosphere of old times and old quiet. He was actively conscious that a most attractive, enigmatical young woman was only to be by his sido for a few moments longer. "That is not the church," the girl said, indicating tho square tower with the clock, "that is* the old chapel ; the church is farther on. lam really very grateful to you for your kindness." "If one traveller could have a claim upon another's gratitude for so slight a service," Dexter said with an air w of melancholy " that was not all assumed, "I should like to think that I had a claim upon you." "Why so ypu have," tho girl answered gaily, pointing first to the shadowed sky and then to the pavement I spotted with a few specks of the threatened rain. They had rounded now into Old Town and tho church was close at hand. '"You havo a claim on my gratitude, for you have saved my ribbons from being spoiled." Dexter spoke, quickly, angrily : "I want to sco you again," he said. Tha girl glanced at him, part sympathetically, part ironically. "Why?" she asked. "Oh, jusfc because — " ha answered, and left an eloquent blank. They were hard upon the goal now and he looked at her imploringly. Sho nodded at him provocatively. ' "I think I shall walk in tho gar dons of New Place after service," sho said demurely, and than Dexter had to draw rein and let her descend and bo blended in the crowd of churchgoers, who had accompanied their line of ride for a few minutes. Even as they parted the shower came, brisk and brief, but Dexter heeded it not ; ho would not have heeded a hurricane in his mood of delicious tumult. He raised his straw hat to tha disapearing dairsel, brought his steed about, and trotted briskly in the rain to the Shakespeare Hotel, whose whereabouts he had noticed as he drove down Chapel-street. His pulses were thrumming, his brain was humming ; he was not thinking of any poet, any glory ; he was thinking only of a girl with violet 1 eyes and a voice that recalled violets. Dexter had thereafter a vagus memory of how time dallied with him until such whilo as the church-bells, that had beaten iho pious to prayers, beat them forth into a mundane air and towards a middle-meal. Hs "registered" at tho ancient, gabled hostelry ; he saw to the stabling of his steed ; he accepted the loom assigned to him, which happened "to be "Troilus and Cressida," as amiably as ha would have accepted the tub of Diogenes. Ho was heedless of how ho should be housed that night ; he dreamed waking of violet eyes,' and it did not occur to him to laugh at himself ! for his day-dredm. The cummer shower had gono as quickly as it came, and left the later morning still effulgent. Jethro strayed through its effulgence to the church — lingered in the churchyard, and listened to music and praising voices and the hum of worship ; then he stole away from tho porch and wandered in tho silent space of graves, gazing upon the silver Avon. Then ho drifted into the Sabbath tranquility of the streets and beheld with an' indifferent eye tha sights and sanctities he had travelled so far to behold. So the moments wore away, irreparable, and in the fullness of ths finished service the humour of ironic fortune carried his feet to the gardens , of New Place. j They were empty gardens when ho came to them and empty they remained for a little while, during which he stared vacantly at the exhumed and onrailed fragments of the foundations of the master's chosen house, or drifted idly round the noble lawn with its girdle of , glowing flowers. He paused pensively before the solemn tablet on which a respectable divine of the eighteenth century has enshrined in patient prose and playful verse his panegyric of the place and of its forjner custodian, and tried to realise, as thoughtful men in such I places 'often do try to realise, some clear conception, of historical time. The garden had been as fair, he reflected, the summer air as fragrant, to that respectable divine with the desire to shine in writing, as to him ; to the one as to the other the end of the world seemed out of all ken. Yet the respectable divine was long since no more than the slenderest of memories, a ghostly personality made known now for the first time to the young man from America, to whom life just then seemed such a very essential endurance. As he sighed some subtle feeling made him suddenly turn, and he saw her coining along the path towards him. There are moments of life, lived through vory vividly in their instant of being, very lucidly, that afterwards it is impossible for memory to pieco together into a complete picture, a coherent tale. The child's puzzle .has got itself irreparably blurred ; the doom of j Humpty Dumpty is simplicity in comparison. Dexter carried away from tho gardens of New Place, the name of a J girl, Pamela Drayton, and the promise ' of a holiday friendship. It all seemed to run aa sudden as a fire along dry grass ; they might have been waiting for each other through the ages, though their eccentric meeting was not yet three hours old. It seemed at tho same timo wholly inexplicable and the most natural matter in the world. He had asked her to_ take luncheon with him ; this she declined with a demuro smile that was not deprived of irony ; then, as if penitent for the patent dashing of his spirits, she confided to him that she woula walk on the War-wick-road that afternoon and would never deny her greeting to a' friend, even thougV the friendship were something of the newest. Jethro Dexter did find his way to Warwick-road that day,' and for many days to come. The friendship grew apace, and yet remained no more than friendship ; discretion reigning discreetly in a very desert jf indiscretion. She asked him tew questions, and those were chiofly about the country from which he came. He asked her no questions, and yet learned incidentally as it were and , by bint something of his pretty comnan- .

ion's history. She was not of Stratford apparently; she came, as far as Stratford was concerned , from London or Londonwardsj the chance of a holiday had come to her with the case of a friend who wished to leavs Stratford for a while and asked Pamela if she would like to stay in it in company with a single servant, during her absence. Pamela, it seemed, had jumped at the offer; hence her presenco in Stratford and hence in her wish to respect the decorums of Stratford, her belated zeal for church, and her sudden acquaintanceship with tho smooth-shaven, greyeyed young American who was making Ids way in the world, and who lilted to have his own way in the things that were near his heart. The friendship suddenly flamed into a succession of picturesque expeditions, pilgrimages in the gig to the shrines j of Shakespearcland. The girl know j tho town well enough already, being Jethro's predecessor in the place, and on the first full day of their whimsical intimacy, tho Monday namely that followed that memorable Sunday, she was his idolised pilot to tho church, the Birthplace, New Place, Grammar School, the Memorial Theatre. All these places, which Dexter had longed to see, were, he found, rendered vastly moro interesting when visited in the fellowship of a very pretty, very vivacious, very bright-spirited young woman who seemed to have been born under a merry star and to bo graced with the gift of wiso laughter, 'the spirit that laughs blithely at true mirth, that laughs kindly at poor folly, that laughs defiantly at tho black beggar-hag, lurking mean and shrivelled in the shadow. In tho afternoon of that fair first day the pair walked across the haunted fields to Shottory and saw tho ancient cottage which passes for that of Anno Hathaway, and sat together for an instant sido by side in the ingle-nook whero Master William is reported to have wooed Mistress Anno, while opin- • ions differ as to his gain or loss in the wooing. Thereafter followed those pilgrimages in the gig, and the meal that Pamela had refused to share in Stratford they ate in friendship in 'many a pleasant country-side hostelry. Dexter reflected profoundly on Dr. Johnson's saying about tho protty girl and the post-chaiso. A gig was better than a post-chaise, but the pretty girl was the pith of the problem ; and this girl was amazingly pretty, and apparently adorably unconscious that she owned any share of good looks. She was an enchanting companion, always good-tem-pered, always merry, always friendly, I always obtaining, without ever appear I ing to exact it or even to suggest it, that degree of friendship from tho man which never passed for an instant beyond the limit of respect. There wero moments when Jethro asked himself nervously if ho wero not making a bit of a fool of himsslf i if one who was so ready to accord so much might not bo ready and even willing to accord more. But then ho had ' only to look into her frank eyes to change his mind, and moreover he j liked so well the sweet formality of j their informal relationship that ho wa3 well content to ieavo things as they were, for the time. But in thomeanwhilo and < almost unawares ho was I sinking deeper and deeper in the shining waters of love, and in the meanwhile he shut his ears resolutely to any , vexing question as to tha end. But j tho end was inevitable, and thus it came about. ~ j One day the pair had planned an open air picnic in a very pleasing sheltered piece of sylvanry that they » had passod and praised and remembered |in an expedition. So Pamela packed a , little basket and Jethro provided a bot- ! ilo of 'wine and a bottle of soda water ; and thus provisioned they dro\c to their ■ goal. lhey feasted in tho open air — How can one feast better? — the grass j for their table, tho spreading boughs of ; ancient treas their .canopy of shade. It , was their first frankly gypsy frolic, and ' much as they had enjoyed th 3 hospij talities_ of rural inns, this' wa,s a thou- , sand timos, tan thousand times, better in its exquisite Eolitudc, its enchanted liberty. The faithful steed, whom they had agreed to call Pegasus, with great if almost unconscious appropriateness, was tethered to a neighbouring tree, where ho munched complacently at tho fare supplied to him in a' plump nosebag and seemed to eye the- two humans from timo to time with a liind of ironical approval. It was a merry little feast whilo it lasted, its simplicity eked tout with an abundance of laughter and blithe fandies, while tho shadows lengthened slowly over their momentary camp. When the last sandwiches were oaten* and tho scattered for tho observant birds, when the craftily qualified clarot had been drained to tho health of tho lustic deities, then Jethro lit his pipe I and lounged and talked as ho had smokI cd and lounged and talked for many delightful days. But he felt aware of a change, in spite of himself ; to-day was not quite as yesterday, or the days befo'i'e yesterday ; ho was conscious of a strange strain as if ho were playing a part, as if he were waiting in a ; state of nervous tension for something expected to happen. And something did happen. They had risen to their feet preparatory to breaking camp, when, quite suddenly, as if acting in obedience to a j blind force, Jethro caught Pamela in j his arms and made to kiss her mouth. But quick and unexpected as his attack was, sho proved even quicker in '.resistance. Pressing her hands strongly against his sho strove fiercely to push him away. "Don't, don't," sho cried appealingly, "I trusted you, I trusted you." Thero was something so pathetic in her simple speech, so earnest in her eyes, that he could not choose but surrender to her rejection of him. His hands relaxed, his hot pulses cooled, he fell back. "Forgive me," he said with an embarrassed smile. "There is nothing to forgive," tho girl answered quietly, as she stooped to her task of packing, and Jethro, hot, angry, dumbfounded aided her in silence. The silence was soon broken by Pamela, who began to talk rapidly as if nothing had happened, and set her j companion an cxamplo which he was i bound to foljow. But though the old easeful familiarity was thus restored, Dextor felt strangely agitated und beI wildered under hiscloanof calm. When • they were in tho trap again and drivj ing along the highway their forced volubility failed them for a long time and some miles were driven in silence. Presently Jothro looked up at the girl beside him. She was sitting very still, with her dainty cloven chin v littlo tilted; sho looked as if she were thinking deeply. Ho thought that ho had never &een her lo6k so lovely, thut he had never so adored the glory of her youth. Shu teemed to be painted against tho gold and yellow of tho sunset sky, as some Italian painters painted their loved women "with a background of puro gold." The words buzzed in hb brain ; the wild longing of ■ his heart commanded him to speak. "Whjr should we not go on for over like this?," ho whispered, "for ever, through our journey of the years?" Pamela shook her head as if in that action she shook awry the obsession that lu(d silenced her ; she turned and gazed at him steadily, with sadness, without surprise. "Will you 'marry mo, Pamela," ho said hotly, ''will you tiuvel with me to my, own land!"

Pamela gave a faint sigh as she looked quickly into his eager face ; then she slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out a littlo purse. From the purse she extracted a ring which she clipped on to the third finger of her left hand ; then she held the left hand out to her companion in silence. The ring was a plain broad band of gold, the ring was a wedding. Jethro gavo a groan.- "You are married," ho gasped. Pamela nodded, and for , a moment she did not seem able to speak ; then she spoke. "I am married. Dear friend, I ought to have told you, but somehow I could not do it. I was go very happy with you ; it all seemed so like the time when I was a girl, clean, and sweet, and free. I tried to persuade myself that we would part as pleasantly as we met. Pleaso forgive me." Dexter repeated slowly her words of a little while before : "There is nothing to forgive." After a pause he added, "You have shown me what happiness is like. 1 wish it could have lasted a littlo longer." Then he added a question. "Are you happy in your married life?" Tho girl gave a little 6hiver as if the warm wind chilled her. "No, I am not happy." After another moment ho asked again, Do you love — him?" "I did lovo him once," she answered piteously. '"Now I try to remember that." "And ha — does he love you? But of course ho must." She gave a littlo bitter laugh. "Ho lovea many things," she said. "Ho loves the devil's books, he loves j the devil's drinks, he loves the devil's damsels. But incidentally I think he lovea mo a little." Jethro was drifting very fast now. Ho caught his broath sharply, then asked her passionately; "Do you feel bound to this man?" How ho hated him, this nameless man who he has never heard of till this instant. "Yes," she answered steadily, looking straight before her, "I really feel bound to him. Ho is away abroad on some of his queer business and I came down here to play at being a girl again, a girl and free." Even as she said this they came to the house whore sho was staying. The trap stopped, and Pamela jumped down Jethro followed her, and stood with her at tho gate with tho reins over his arm. j "Will you not go on with the play?" i ho psked hoarssly. She shook her head. "It is play no longer," she said, "it is dangerous sport, and I fear we have burned our fingers." "It has burned my heart, it has burned my soul," said Jethro. "Come with mo and bo free." "I cannot," she declared sadly. "There aro things I think right, and those thing,} I must do. I should not be myself If I did othorwise. I must be true to him, for my soul's sake." Dexter knew that cho meant what she said. "I suppose I had better go away," he said heavily. "I think you had better go," she answered. "Good-bye, and God bices you." She ran through tho gate to tho house and disappeared He mounted the trap again. Pegasus hid shed his wings. That evening Jethro ciiovo. towards Oxford ; and Warwickshire knew him no moro.