A Married Bachelor.

Evening Post, Volume LXXXII, Issue 25, 29 July 1911, Page 10

A Married Bachelor.

By J.. S. FLETCHER, .Author of " Picturesque Yorkshire," *• the Threshiag-FIoor," etc. £All Bights Reserved,]

It had been threatening to rainr all that summer aflem»on, and now, as Hesleton turned ou'f, of the high road into the by-lane which made a short«nt to his farmstead, the overcharged «lottde broke, and the splashing drops came down with a fury that was almost torrential. He wa»a still a good half-mile-from home, and 1/e ran for a shed that stood in one> of his own, meadows 1 not isx from the waj/side, a shed primarily intended as a shelter for cattle and sheep. By the time he had reached it 3iis sHouldem weffe drenched, and, recognising for a> moment that the downfall might Iva mote than a, passing shower, he hesitated as to whether or not he should make a dasn. for horn*. Then, remembering thajt he was no looge'r a vety young mm, and not fitted to sprint. & few hundred yard*, he entered th© shed, and, taking off his fifiooting f/acfeefc, shook away the glittering drops that had clung there.. tJnlighted, save by the narrow door!way ff6',n the meadow side, the shed IW«b very dark. Having no need for its specific iise until winter came on, Hesleton had caused it to be filled that summer with hay from an adjacent field, ahd there was accordingly mow little room in it. But he knew that a disused <iom bin stood in & far cotnei 1 , and, t-eing tired after a long walk over liis l*nd, he went to it and sat down in t«e i darkness to listen to the rain spattering Upon the fed tiles above his Jusad and 'to ruminate on the chances of the coming hafvesfc, And he said to himself with a grim laugh that, ,while he wanted rai'a for his turnips, he certainly wanted sunshine, and plenty of it, for ii« eortf. " That's the wo*sfe of being & i at mef ," foe said, half aloud, " you m&t all sorts of weafHer at the same tim«. And you ' jean't have 'em." ' A woman's voice, flurried, excited, fn< femtttfed hi* .train of thought, Heheard the gate of the meadow through which h« himaelf had just pawed close .with a shafp clang; then, came the sound of feet scurrying through the ,wefc gfa&e, and two women, whom he recognised as belonging to the village, framed into the ehed arid paused, gasping fot breath, just within the entrance. "Well, aad I'm sure, Sarah Brewis, to t think that it shoufd come down; like this here, and us both % out without umbrellas!" exclaimed one woman, & stout and red-cheeked matron wild got her breath <vith difficulty aftef her hasty retreat lo the ,shed. > >" And, fine *as ft wete— when we set off from home this KOfniftg ?' The' other Woman, a smaller replica of the first, made no immediate reply, For the moment she was busily engaged ift dashing the raindfops from her gown with'> tho aid of ' her ' pocket handfe&f * chief. "*Aye," she said at laefc, in a half commiserating voice, "and me with mv ijberf 'merino on ! flowsontevei 4 , if it doesn't do u« no good, it'll Ao good to ithe tland, Mary Gough. Om 1 Thomas iwere saying this morning that they want jratd for the turnips." "-Why, it's an ill wind that blows nobody some good," said Mrs, Gough, i" and as long a* ws've , got to wait— icrf ,I'm none going to spoil my best feonnet— we may as well seat ourselves. It's; a long time since I eat myself on. & hay-mow. Let's see, thi« here shed fa in 1 Mestur Heeleton's land, isn't it?" It's his ten-acre meadow," assented to! Brewifi. Mte. Gough seated herself in. the hay, itook a paper of dnger-nuk from her anarfeet basket, offered it to her companion, helped herself,' ahd began to niuncii contentedly. Suddenly she eighfid. "Aye, poor Mestttf Hesleton!" she eaid. "Im sorry for him— l'm afraid there's trouble in atom Of course,, he's a rather high and mighty gentleman, and •thinks hisself a bit above meet in. these patte, but # he's none a bad 'un, and I don't like to see trouble come to nobody, Sarah Brewie, especially when ?t's 'an family matters, " "Whatj you mean about young Mennill '"coming home again? 1 ' said Mr«. ißuswis. "Aye, for sure !" replied Mrs. Gough. "'For you've got to remember, Sarah, ifchafc Mestur Hesleton's a good five-and-twenty year oldef nor what hie missis as, and we all know— if he doesn't— that f her and young Dan, Mennill wer« «weetheart« before San went off to foreign parte."' < "Oh, aye, everybody knows that," #a-kl -Mrs. Brewis. "Aye, and they'd ha* been wed it flDan had only had .the brass," continued Mtei Gough. "You needn't tell me— *he daes wedded "Hesleton" because • he' ,were» rich man. Hei? folk were poor «nough. And I'm sure nobody can say, dookfig at 'etn, that- there's much signs of love atween, 'em. Have you ever noticed 'em going to church— their faces d* aej cold as them stone images in, >the icttttrch porch. She didn't look like *hat when her and young Dan used to go courting !" •Mrs, 'Brewie dived into the depths of (her market basket and produced a ittnall flat bottle. She withdrew the flork'and handed the bottle to her N iftend. '-'Take a drop, Mary/ she said, "It's coM to the stomach sitting in this' shed. lAye;* well, of course, we shall see what we 'shall see. It would made a deal of difference naturally, if there'd been any ehilder/ When a woman's got childer to one man, it's not oft that ehe thinks ought about another." "Nc, and she hadn't need!" exclaimed Mrs Gough, returning the boU tie and smacking her lips. "Take another ginger, Sarah. Aye, aa you say, we' shall see what we shall see. But they 6&y she's left a deal to herself ia y6ttng Mm, Hesleton, for Mestur Hesleton s a busy man, and he's a handsome- lad, is Dan Mennill. and now he's 'been in foreign part,? he'll have a way .vrtth him, no doubt, that'll ba vo/v agreeable to young ladies. And it all flomes to this here, Sarah, as I've heard my poor mother say many a time— it doesn't do for May to wed with December, no, hoi 1 with September neither, co thare!" The rain ceased at last; the women Look up their baskets and went away; ths ekiee ckiared and the sun cam& out, .but Heskton sat in his dark cornei? of itho ehed, his elbows on his Knees, hitf face in lite hands, thinking, Me was Joe-king bjftck, trying to understand, to realise, something that had never pr*< pefited il/self lo him before. It wa^ just three years flince he had teftme, d etiaiiger. to the village, com* to etitc/r oh tht* tenancy of the largest, ifa.™ ill the neighbourhood. ( He was a Irich man, a mnn oi some importance, an'l hie advpiit htid bc-tt hailed With general satisfaction, (or he brought a d'pputiition with him from another part of Ib- count}. Before long lie wae on tin? board of Otiatrlianu; a chtifch vfli'dun, and a county magistrate, Men Jiiiwv him fiT a rriati nf vast energy and fifenb administrative ability; itwaswoti" dcrful. they said, what a lot of work •J'jin Jfftsletoti could crtrvvd into one flay. Within a year of his coming ho hit] found time to do all sorts of things »-anioii^«t them, to marry. Looking back upou it now, in the light ot M hut two gossiping women had «aid, !)f> began to wonder how it was thftl- lii« marriage had come about co quickly. Ho w* s fwtj'-Mum yew*

of age when he came to the village, and he had never had time to 1 consider the idea of taking a wife. But on the first Sunday after his arrival ho had fallen head over ears in love with Letty Cray, the daughter of Cray, the corn* miller, a girl of twenty, who was acknowledged to be the beauty of the neighbourhood. And ek months later they had been married. He could scarcely .remember now if there were, or were not, any incidents of their engagement— courtship it could not be called, since all wae done in, such a strict and formal manner. He remembered that he used to spend several evenings a week at the corn-miller's house, He remembered that in. due time he proposed for Letty to her father and mother. He remembered that they had given their consent without he&ita* tion or question-— and. that the mother had asked him not to speak to the girl herself for at any rate, a> week or two. And he remembered, finally, that when he had epoken. Letty had accepted hia proposal quietly; there had been, now that he came to think of it at this distance of time, Something of the air of a bueine&e transaction about the whole matter. As he rose from the old corn-bin John Healeton alaoi brought back to his- recollection the fact that within, a month of their marriage, Letty's father, Simon Cray, had borrowed from him a thou--sand pounds wherewith to pay off a, mortgage on his corn-mill. And when he thought of that Mrs, Gough's words came into his mind— "The lap* wedded Hesleton because he was a ticii man I" He pulled himself together at last, and leaving the shed went slowly toward* his farmstead. I*or the first tiffle in his life there wait something in hid heart and brain which had never been there before. He had a sincere, a true devotion to the girl who was his wife, and it had never come into his head to even wonder if she had had lovers before him. But now— who^was this Dan Meaiiill? He knew a family of Meflflills, fatfm&fS, Ofl the outskirts of the village. The father was a confirmed sot; the son at home waft little better; the two daughters were loud and flashy. Sure ly this Dan would not be any relation of theirs. And yet— what else could He be? And if it were true, as the woman said, that he and Letty had been lovers, why had ehe never told him, her hua« band, of it? Bub he did not pursue that thought} something elementary within him told him that he was not sufficiently skilled in femininity to feel sure .whether it was right to expect Letty to lay bare all her soul to him. And he suddenly gave himself a vigorous shake. "Bah!" he exclaimed "What a. fool I am to attach any importance to the idle gossip of a. couple ot old women. 1 As if Letty wasn't, only, too well content with, her life 1" Then he dismissed the subject from hiu mind, and strode briskly homeward. fi« looked with proud .eyes at the substantial farmstead with its well-kept buildings, well-stocked orchard, trim gardens, and general air of prosperity-— what Woman, he thought, being mietreee of that, Would exchange ifc for— what? The same thought was in. him aa h« stepped into the entrance hall— there on one side was the best parlour, bright and cheery with books and pictures and everything that waa comfortable, and with the fine piano which he had given his wif o for a- wedding present ; there on, the other wae the diningroom, and the table wad s»et for a high tea, All that, he said, meant home, and women cared, in hie opinion, for nothing co much ac for home. That, at any rate, Was what he had been taught. Hte wife was waiting tea for him } ( he thought she had never looked prettier, but Tie forgot to tell her so. They ate and drank together after their ( asual fashion; ehe politely interested in his accounts of his day's doings ; he talking of the weather, the crops, the prospects of harvest, what duties he would hay« at Quarter Sessions or at the next meeting of the Guardians. He was a great talker, and of the sort who never take the trouble to see if their subjects of conversation are agreeable, and his monologue invariably lasted through >a meal. It was the result of bachelorhood of long standing, and Hesleton wae eubhmely unconscious of it. He lighted a cigai 1 a& soon as tea was ovef, and, having put out of his mind the old women's gossip, began to whistle between the puffs of smoke. fo* i a moment he stood gazing out of the window over the smooth lawns of the garden. And. suddenly his wife spoke. "Shall you be Very busy to-night, John?" she asked. "Busy? Why?" hi said. ' "I— JT thought perhaps you would take me for a drive," she sa-id. "I'm going to be very busy," he said. "I've got to give Martin all his orders for to-morrow, and I'm expecting Stevenson, the pig-buyer, about those young pigs, and then Ive got th« week's books to go" through, and after that I've the Highway accounts to check. But you shall go, in your ponycarriage, Letty ; I'll tell Bill to harness the pony afc once." ■ She had no wish to go alone, but the pony and carriage had beefl his last birthday present to her, and it seemed ttngererous not to use* it, So she acquiesced, and went off to get ready and Hesleton, presently saw hei drive away into the summer evening.^ His only thought was that it was good to be able to give her all these things. Then he burned away to find his foreman with whom he was busy for an hour. Then, came {he pig-buyer, a bluff, plain-spoken man, who from long acquaintance with the objects of his merchandise had come to resemble them somewhat, in personal appearance. Their business- in the yard over, Hesleton, after the usual custom, invited him into the house to toke o. glass of spirits. "Tell ye what, JTesleton," said the j pig-buyer in his blunt fashion, "yoti's a I tight FiriaTt little pony and carriage 'at your misjis drives— Gow, it is so !" "Oh, you've seen it, have you?" said Hesleton carelessly, pushing a box of cigars towards his guest. "Aye, I passed her at the Four Cross Hoads— she'd stopped to speak to that there young Dan Mennill, as has just Come home fro' foreign parts," answered the pig-buyer. "'^. c '} cc what, there's no doubt *at travillin' does improve tho young 'tins— he were allus a fine lad, Dan, but he's changed into a. right strappin', handsome man and no mistak'. But of cout&e, you wouldn't know hirn^-ho'd gone when ye cam." '"la he one of the Mcnnills of Low End?" asked Hesleton. "Aye, but varry different fro 1 any on 'em," answered the pig-buyer. "Varry different— might be another stock, Now &bottfc that theer Berkshire boar o' Yours. HeSleton?--d'ye want to sell liim? 'Cos if ye do--*" When the pig-buyer had concluded his business and gone. Ilesletoti got out his account books, and kiO down to his desk. JPor some reason which he could flot explain tho figures poemed to have no mea-mng, and he had clone nothing with them when Letty returned.' a little later. Ho did not look at hei' as she came into the parlour, but affected lo be htisy with Hie honks. " tta.il a niio drive?" he a&ked. ( "Yes," she answered, almost tntllf< feteAtfyr '

"See anybody?" These were the two questions he invariably put to he? when she came in from a solitary drive. "I met Dan Mennill, who has just corns home from India," she said, just as indifferently, "ne arrived this afternoon." "I didn't know there was a- Dan* Mennill," said Hesleton. "He went before you came," she answered. "We were all boys and girls together, but I should scarcely have known him." "I ( hope h© is not lite his brother-— or his father,' said Hesleton. I "Anything but," she said. "You would like . him, John-^I have asked 1 him to call." Then *he wefli upstairs to tnke off her things, and Hesktan. w*nt oft with his books, wondering. Those gossiping old women ! Were, their woi'ds title, ot was it ... The rest of that ,- ervening passed, as most, evenings passed with them. Hesleton, mastering the strange feelings which had come upon him, settled down to his books aad papers; his wife took up her_ needlework. Alt half-past nine the maid-seTvant brought in tbe supper tray ; while he munched' his sandwiches and drank his ale, Hesleton talked of the bargains which, hei had jiist made about the pigs, Letty, as usual, listening politely to his enthusiasm about the quality of his stock. Then his turned to his desk again, and Letty olice more took up _ her work. But after a while she let it drop on her knee, and she sat thinking , . « and looking into faf distances. Once or twice shtt turned and glanced at hier husband, And she repressed what might have been a heavy sigh. At 10 o'clock Letty rose, put her work away, and , going over to ' Hesleton's desk bent down and kissed his Sorehead. "Good night, John," she said. Hesleton turned and patted her armit was a trick of his which had always amused her — it made her think of fih© way in which he patted his favourite horse. "Good-night, dear, good-night," he said. "I'll get through as quickly as I can, Get to . sleep, Letty, get to sleep." She moved away to the parlour door, knowing very well that he would stay up for two hours- yet, fie would finish ,his work j then he would put on his slippers,* then he would light a cigar; then he would mix himself a whisky and soda; and then he would settle down to read. He had done these things for nearly thirty years every night, and she supposed he would go on doing tkern for ever. Married, he_ was still a bach*, lor in habit. Something prompted her that night to- turn back, and, to lay fler hand on his arm. "John !" eh© said. ' Hesleton looked up surprised. "What is it, Letty?" he said, utterly unconscious oi the wistful look in \ms eyes. • ,i "I— T wish I could help you with .-fll those papers and books," she saiid. "Don't you think L could ?"- Hesleton laughed. i "Nonsense, little woman !" ho-exclarin-ed. "Why should you bother yourscdf with such things?" She lingered, looking at hiffl with yitt another expression which he did not understand. "But, John," she said, "isn't it-« isn't it lonely for you to sit up by your, self 1 Would you not like me to sit up with you?" Hesleton laughed again, and again patted her arm. "I'll take caie you don't, chiiW," he said. "I'm not going to have you robbed of your beauty sleep ! Lo.bely !— why, I'ite got all the papers to read." She then went away, and Hbsleton Once more turned to his desk, li.ut he suddenly laid down his pen and Scaring at nothing began to think. V?as sho dissatisfied? Ho grappled with Uhi«problem for some minutes, and theii tossed it aside. Impossible ! How co uld any woman be dissatisfied who had; a comfortable home, with everything i she wanted, servants, hei' own poriy-ca triage, a fine piano, a croquet lawn, go wns, fallals, everything, and a defined and good position? Impossible! And kicking up his desk he lighted a cigar, m bced himself a drink, and took up the little pile of papers which he had been too busy to look at during the day. "When he t went to bed that flight Hes(eton, shading the candle with .his hand, stood for a moment looking at< hi 3 sleeping wife. She looked little more than a girl as she lay there with ,her hair spread out over her pillow, and for a moment he remembered what old Mary Gough had said about her looks when she and Dan Mennill used to go court' ing. Courting ! He strode s rtvay from the bed and set the candle itlown, and taking out his watch began <tei wind it with sharp jerks. Courting !- -it was all bosh, he told himself. Letty', had been perfectly motionless as she to [Id of her meeting with Mennill. And yet Mennill was young and he was ol tl, even if he was scarcely December to Letty's May. Then, while thinking of these things in a vague, indefinite way, hft suddenly remembered aft important business transaction, which wtj.nld engage his attention in the mornii ig, and he turned instinctively to it, anitf was still considering it when he fell ae'leep. It was Hesleton's habit— -a curious one for a farmer, but one which had grown upon him during hite bachelor rays— to rise at a late hour. ,He had a trick of waking at half -past 6, of holding a brief conversation with his foreman (who from long experience wan perfectly congn'sant of all his ma»Ler'« little ways) through the bedroom w jnclow, and of then retiring to his couc h again to sleep until lie was minded tc» rise. This habit had originated in the < ither habit of sitting up very late, and I Ktty, whom it had at first surprised greai ily, was by this time assured that it was one which her husband would nevei? ( bre ttk off. But on tins particular morning, because of his business <: pg'agement, partly because fie- awoke wide awake, Hesleton rose at for him ai >• unusually early hour, with the result iJiat by tho time afternoon arrived 1 and dinner was over, h& felt the need of » nap. tt, was his practice to •Walk out ov dr his land ill tile aflernooii/^and. he hac! got as far as the end of his garden w tfch this intention when' drowsiness ovcirtook him. He turned lilt o '.a summer House which he had' built when he came ito the farm, and stretching himself' out hi one of the big'-baskefc chairs which wer-l kept there feu fast 'asleep. ' | • 'It was a hot '.^une afterncjon, and the langiu>rousn.fss of it, and the hum of • bees in their hivea and jfimougst, the flowery, ' tho cooing of ,woo 1-pigeons in - the" coppice, close by,- and th> murmur of , a tiny ( stream tjlatf flowed at the, edge of the, garden helped, to keep^fi^rieton eleep- . ing lofger than he hadinlj(.nded. He . woke siiddenly,' to t^allse J .hat .Voices , were at hand, and becoming wideawake he/ heard Letty talking to| someone, a whose voice ,\Va'a unfaniliar. Then he took in tho situation- (■ -outside the Biimmerhouse, fßqin'g^N.'mii |iic .waterfall, was a rustic btoch. ,011 w deli his wife a,mt her comp&iiou 'were evidently sitting, unconecm^s-dE his'cl< |c nwjhbouritood. And their voices sutatded clearly through the open windows Letty was speaking when Hcsk-tnn xealised matters. "I hope you'll be very Jiappy, Dan," elic sa-kl. "Sure to t)C— 'iit loaat, ifc'fl be my fault if I'm no!."' said llif mtu/J's \oico heaitily. "She's a. briek — a ilitsa-l good 'un, Wtty," v , . ,

of a man of courage and action ; something in it was expressive of cheery, determination. "I suppose you've got a jjart-rait of . heor, Dan?' ' asked Letty. "Down at home— 'yea, I'll bring it up next time I come," answered the man's voice. "I wonder what you'll think of her." Letty laughed. "Never mind what I think of her, Dan," she said. "The only important thing ie what you think of her." "Oh, of course, I think no end of her 1" exclaimed the man. Then with A nervous laugh, he continued. " I say, Letty, now that you're married, you might give a fellow some tips about"well, about what a woman ex'pgcG;— -I mean what ehe wants in a husband. After all, you know, we men are such asses — we don't understand lots of things." Letty laughed again— a shrewd' listener would have detected a oertain note in that laughter which was not of mirth. "There's only one thing that a woman, wants in her husband, Dan," she said in a low voice. "Only one? Then that's— love, eh?" "That's all." she answered. "Nothing else?" "That's all," she repeated. "What about pretty frocks, and plenty ol money, and — ?" "Don't, Dan!" she said. "That's nonsense. A woman likes nice things, but they're— nothing. If you want my advice— tips— as you call it— let your wife see every hour that you loyfe her, and then she'll be happy, even if she's only one gown to her back. And give her as much of your company as you Can — don't leave her alone." There was something very earnest in Letty'e tone, and her companion made no answer. For a moment or two there was silence*, then Letty spoke again,' "Corns round to the poultry irun^Dan, and I'll show you my prize Dorkinge," she said. Hesleton heard them rise and go away, and after a moment or two left the garden and went over his land. And as he passed from field to field he thought deeply about things which had never occurred to him before. J±e went home at teatime to find his wife and Dan Mennill playing croquet in the garden. ]?or Lefcty there came a surprise— Heeleton wae usually extremely reserved in the presence of strangers ; on this occasion he seemed to throw off all restraint, and to exert himself to do honour to a guest. fie pres&ed Mennill to stay to tea and supper, made much of him, talked to him about his travels, and when he left late in the evening ac compartied him to the efld of the garden, and asked him to come again. Letty was in the parlour when, he went back, putting away her work* basket. Hesleton went up to her and put his arm round her. A quick flush of colour came into her face as she turned and looked at him, and saw something new in his eyes. "Letty!" he said softly, "Yes, John?" she said. J'Letty, I was in the summerhouae this afternoon when you and Mennill were talking. I'd been asleep—you woke me." "Yes? 1 ' she said, He released his hold of her, and dropping heavily into a chair bowed his head upon his hand. "I heard what you eaid," he went on, "about — about what a woman wants. I'm afraid I'm— not what I ought to be. I expect I'm nothing but aft old bachelor still 1 It's hard to get out of confirmed habits— and no doubt I'm selfish, and perhaps don't think. I always was dense about women. But, oh, Letty, I love you !" She was on her knees at his side by that time, and had got her arms round him, and she pulled hi* head down, to heTs and began to rock him as if he had been a baby. And Hesleeton began to understand much. " John !" she whispered, after a long silence. "John !" "Yes?" he said. "John !— there's— there's going to be another bond between us !" Then Hesleton, clasping her to him, understood moTe.