Chapter I: Jeremy

The market town of Brent differed but little from like boroughs linked by the artery of the railroad to centres greater than themselves. It grew, reacted to the ordinary stimuli and, upon discovery of Dartmoor as a healthful resort of pilgrimage, enlarged its borders to meet increasing demand.

An environment was created after the usual pattern, and from the village centre of shops and cottages, there extended good roads on which stood single and semi-detached houses with gardens about them. The class of shop improved to serve the class of customer; the atmosphere thickened from its primitive simplicity. Change increasingly dominated Brent, creating an environment wherein to be honest and fearless grew more difficult, while cowardice and hypocrisy were encouraged by the nature of things.

Human capacity was displayed at its customary levels; greed and creed, after the inevitable rule, dominated the minds of men and women and infected the minds of the children. Education progressed, but its evidences were often painful, and, along with it, things worthy of preservation departed for ever. Modern education promotes selfishness and egotism in the pupil, but neglects any valuable formative influence on character--the result of that narrow and unimaginative type of man and woman foremost in the ranks of the certified teachers.

Ambition at Brent was only understood in terms of cash; among many of the young men and women cleverness became only another name for cunning. They were brought up, generation after generation, on the ideals of their parents, which proved a far more penetrative principle than the teaching of their schools. Then dawned class consciousness and class prejudice; and the fresh point of view took shape in creation of new values and animosities. The timid admired the bold, who had courage to scant his service, yet draw his wages. The worker who robbed his employer, confident that trade unionism would support him in any open conflict, became the hero of the shop; while the employer retaliated without patience or perspicuity. Thus worthless and unsocial ideals were created in minds upon the way to adolescence.

The church stood in the midst--architecturally a very beautiful and dignified object. Its significance otherwise only related to form and ceremony. So many had ceased to go, that the timorous began to feel they, too, might stay away without suffering in reputation, or trade. There were various chapels, also, and a few spirits reflected the past and professed obsolescent opinions, while a small minority still actually practised them.

Of such were the postmistress and her husband, Judith and Barlow Huxam. To the Chosen Few they belonged--the woman from her birth, the man by adoption; for Judith insisted, as a condition of marriage, that Barlow must join her particular sect and he, much in love and of no deep convictions, did not hesitate to oblige her. And still the pair worshipped with that mournful denomination, while the Chosen Few lived up to their proud title and became yearly fewer. This fact brought sorrow, but not surprise, to Mrs. Huxam. Fewer, indeed, were chosen, for the good reason that fewer deserved to be. She took a long view, and though admitting that her own generation was painfully distinguished by a lack of just persons in all classes, yet hoped that better times might be coming and subsequent humanity provide a more handsome inheritance for the Kingdom.

Apart from her religious predilections, Mrs. Huxam was stern, but reasonable. She knew that offences must come, while regretting that more appeared to come from Brent than most other places. She was not censorious, though glad to remember that the mills of God always ground small in the long run; and she never wavered in conviction that all was for the best and divinely preordained.

Her husband she honoured and respected, and indeed he was a man worthy of respect and honour. He had earned admiration and applause, for to have lived with Judith through thirty-five unclouded years argued great gifts of patience and philosophy on the part of Mr. Huxam. They worked in perfect amity and their drapery establishment was still the most important shop in Brent.

Judith felt prouder of her own family than her husband's, and a slight to any member of the clan was an affront upon herself. A bachelor brother lived at Plymouth. He owned trawlers and prospered, letting it be known that his niece, Margery, would some day inherit his possessions. Mrs. Huxam's father, Tobias Pulleyblank, a saddler, had been dead ten years, and her mother passed a year earlier. But other Pulleyblanks still flourished round about. They lifted steadfast lights on a naughty world, and nothing had disappointed Judith Huxam more than to find that Pulleyblank blood was not pre-potent in the veins of her own boy and girl. They both lacked that steel of character and indomitable will power she herself possessed; and though Margery Bullstone, the elder child, married to a prosperous man, had done her duty and given her mother just cause for gratification and contentment, of Jeremy, her son, this could not be admitted.

It happened that Jeremy Huxam's parents were now dwelling on this subject, for, upon the following day, Jeremy was due to return home. Once more he had been tried in the ranks of men and found wanting.

Barlow and his wife were in bed. They retired early and, as a rule, conversed for an hour on the interests of the day before sleeping. When Mr. Huxam stretched his hand for a little box beside him and took a mucilaginous lozenge for his 'tubes,' that was the signal that conversation must cease and sleep be sought.

"Jeremy certainly is a puzzling man," he confessed, "and I wish there was more of you in him and less of me. He's not altogether soft, and he's not altogether lazy, and he's always civil spoken and respectful, and everybody likes him; yet what does he amount to? A dead weight on our hands, and no sooner, after unheard-of efforts, do we launch him into deep water, than he's back on the beach again."

"It's lack of purpose," said Judith. "He's like one of them ants you see in the woods. They'll tug and tug and wander this way and that, pulling along a scrap of rubbish; and they'll climb up a stone and fall off a score of times and get no forwarder. Yet you can't deny the creatures are busy enough. Of Jeremy you can only say that he's himself and made as his Maker willed him to be. He'll never treat time like a servant, but let it master him. That's what our Thomas understood, though only a child when he died."

"True," answered Barlow, "and seeing that nobody can tell how little time may be granted them, it's a cruel sight to see the precious stuff frittered away. Some fools just kill time--murder it, because they haven't the brain power to know what to do with it; and such men ought to be took in hand, like other criminal malefactors, in my opinion, and set to do the world's work whether they want to or not. But Jeremy's not like that. He's wishful to do some good; yet things all fall to pieces when he touches them."

"Incompetence is the only word for it," said Judith.

"And with competence writ large before his eyes from his youth up!" mused Barlow. "Generally it's just the opposite, and you see children either give their parents away, or offer a good advertisement for their homes, as the case may be. A child's terrible clever at echoing and copying what goes on around him, being just so remorseless in that matter as a parrot. They'll pick up the good, or bad, manners or customs and the general outlook of their elders, and be a sort of running comment upon their fathers and mothers to the quick eye that marks 'em; for, unless they are idiots, children will be learning, and we be teaching 'em something all the time, whether we want to, or don't. Yet Jeremy breaks the rule, for what did he learn except to be hard-working and God-fearing? And that unfortunately ain't enough to make a success of life, though, no doubt, if we were all nearer Christ in thought and deed, as well as profession, it would be."

"Yes," said Mrs. Huxam. "No child of mine, or yours, ever gave us away, because, thank God, there was nothing to give away. But they well might have shone a bit brighter in our mortal view. However, that's God's affair."

She reviewed her children and took comfort in an interesting psychological fact.

"So there they stand--Jeremy, a slight man, of good intentions, but no driving power--and Margery--all right, in the keeping of a man of character, though I never pretended his character was all I could wish in the way of religion. But what shows to me the wisdom of God so amazing clear is Margery's children. Three out of the four are full of Pulleyblank!"

"You may say they have a big pinch," admitted Barlow; "and what does that amount to? Why, that the Lord knows a good thing when He sees it. The Pulleyblank character has helped to make England what it is, and if the world of men and women were flooded with it, the Chosen Few would soon rise up to be the Chosen Many."

"We can't hope that," she answered, "because the Word says 'no'; but Margery's two boys and her eldest girl have got character, and if they see enough of us as time goes on, so much the better for them."

"Margery's got character too--she thinks right," declared Mr. Huxam.

"She does--I'm not judging her. Jacob Bullstone is a difficult man in some ways, though where she's concerned I don't quarrel with him. Margery is a very good wife; but she was always fond of pleasure in season and out; and that's the weakness."

"Well, Bullstone ain't. By no means a pleasure-loving man; and we must give him credit in his children also. They've been brought up to the dignity of work. They're not spoiled."

"He'll claim the credit, no doubt; but I shan't be sorry when they're out in the world."

"The blessing is that they've got what Jeremy never did have," said Mr. Huxam; "and that's an idea of what they want to do. John Henry will be a farmer, and there's no shadow of turning with him, young as he is. That's Pulleyblank. Then Peter's for the dogs. He'll carry on his father's business. They're not particular good scholars, so schoolmaster tells me, but they'll go to work presently, knowing all they need to know about learning in general. And you can get on without a lot of learning, so called, amazing well. Then Avis is handsome and will be married in a few years. And that only leaves Auna."

"To call a child after the river was a silly thing, and I never thought the same of the man after he did it," said Judith.

"It was poetry," explained Barlow. "And you can't fairly blame him. Margery loves the river and she would have it so."

"He ought to have withstood her. My wish was 'Mary.' We haven't had a 'Mary' since my aunt died."

"Auna's the living daps of what her mother was at eleven years old," continued Mr. Huxam. "But Jeremy's the matter now. I'm going to propose that he sees his brother-in-law as soon as may be. Jacob Bullstone will help him for his wife's sake, if it can be done. He's always been very well disposed to Jeremy."

"What can he do?"

"Who knows? We never yet did ask him to lend a hand, and this may be the appointed time."

Mrs. Huxam was doubtful.

"I shouldn't much wish to be under any obligation in that quarter," she said.

"You won't be," he replied. "It's Jeremy who goes to the man, not you. And Jeremy's the sort must be under obligations. He's built so. There's plenty others like him. They give the stronger Christians a chance to shine and practise the virtues. You must have weak members for the righteous to show their light before men."

He stretched for his jujubes and Judith, heaving a sigh, settled down.

Jeremy Huxam was the sort of son a mother is bound to love, even though her respect has vanished and her ambition disappeared. He had a charming face, charming manners and a sanguine nature, easily elated and easily cast down. He was fair, with an amber moustache, which did not conceal a small and pretty mouth. He had large, grey eyes and a trifling forehead, over which hung bright, curly hair. He was a sort of womanly edition of Mr. Huxam, but taller and more gracefully built. Jeremy attached importance to his clothes and dressed well. His voice was gentle and he often laughed. He was exceedingly selfish; but he had the knack to please, and had won many friends, for his own urbane sake as well as his father's. But new enterprises, begun in hope, always sank into doubt and ended in exasperation. He was an attractive, futile person, and would continue to be so.

Mrs. Huxam, remembering her own mighty influence for good on her husband, sometimes thought that, did her son take a wife, the situation might be saved; but Barlow deprecated any such enterprise at present, pointing out that the sort of wife Jeremy would be likely to choose was ill-calculated to fortify his spirit, or strengthen his footsteps.

Now that opinion of the past echoed with resounding chaos upon his parents' ears, for Jeremy Huxam returned from Plymouth on the following day a married man. It was the second, shattering shock in the lives of Barlow and Judith.

His father went to meet Jeremy, who emerged from a third-class carriage on the arrival of the train, and then handed out a very fine young woman. He beamed upon Barlow, shook him warmly by the hand and turned to the girl who stood behind him.

"Jane," he said, "this is my dear father, and now he'll be yours."

Then he introduced his wife.

"A bit of a surprise, father. You don't remember Jane Parsons, I expect, daughter of Mrs. Parsons up at Bullstone Farm in the old days; but she's Jane Huxam now and has honoured me by marrying me. And, from this great event, there's no doubt my fortunes will change."

Jane Huxam, dark and tall, with a humble expression and a loose mouth, shook the postmaster's hand very nervously and hoped he would forgive them.

"We've known each other a longful time," said Jeremy, "and remembering you thought so well of the Catt family, I was pretty sure you'd be glad to hear that Jane cared for me. And it's the turning point, and it will be like your unfailing kindness, father, if you take us hopefully before mother, as if you was pleased about it."

"We feel that as man and wife we shall be able to get on a lot better in the world than separate," explained Jane. "Nothing will be difficult to me when I think of Jeremy."

"Same here," declared her husband. "I always wanted a home-grown wife, and we're both that fond of Brent that we shall be a lot happier here. Jane's properly glad to be back, and I'm very wishful to find work near you and mother. I missed you both a lot. Of course you'll say that we ought to have told you the glad news, and you must understand Jane was set on doing so. But the fault is entirely mine, dad."

Having said these things hastily, Jeremy went to see after the luggage, and Mr. Huxam, who had been too astonished to do more than stare and listen, turned to his daughter-in-law.

"And when you naturally asked my son to let us hear about this, what reason did he give for refusing?" he inquired.

"Truth's truth, Mr. Huxam," answered Jane, twisting her wedding-ring, "and I've told him we must speak the truth in everything, else such a woman as Mrs. Huxam would turn against us. It's like this. I was assistant at a pastry-cook's and, of course, I've known Jeremy since we were children, and he often came to Bullstone Farm after his sister married Mr. Jacob. So we met in Plymouth, and I went with Jeremy on a steamer, for one of they moonlight excursions to the Eddystone Lighthouse. And, coming home, he offered for me, and I said 'yes.' Then I was all for telling the great news; but he wouldn't."

"And why wouldn't he? There must have been a reason."

"The reason was that he much feared his mother would rise up and forbid it," said Jane. "Truth's truth, Mr. Huxam, and I won't begin my married life with a lie, even if we have to live in a gutter. He felt cruel sure that Mrs. Huxam wouldn't like him marrying, though he never said she wouldn't like me myself. He felt sure that you would like me, because you had a very high opinion of my late grandfather, Mr. Matthew Catt, and of the Catts in general; but he weren't going to take any risks, and being a man of tender mind, he knew it would hurt him dreadfully if his mother was to put down her foot against the match. And he felt, rather than face such a sad thing as that, and cause his mother pain, and suffer a lot himself, and perhaps even be drove to break it off, which would have pretty well killed me--in a word, Mr. Huxam, he felt 'discretion was the better part of valour.' That was his own wise words. And so we were married quite lawful and regular in a church, and he's got the lines. And if love can make him a success, he'll be one in future. He's a wonderful man really."

Jeremy returned.

"Tom Bonus will bring along our two boxes," he said. "It's very comforting to see faces you know round about you again, and I hope I shan't be called to leave Brent no more. My next job will be tackled with all the determination of a married man, dad; and, if it suits me, I shouldn't wonder if I surprised you."

Mr. Huxam began to collect his shattered wits.

"I don't want no more surprises," he answered. "We'll walk round the long way, and just let me get law and order into the situation afore we go home. I blame you a very great deal; but that's neither here nor there. My rule is to face facts and never waste time thinking how much nicer it would be if they was different. You're married--that's the first thing to grasp--and the second and more important is this that you are now going before your mother, wife in hand, and your mother don't know what you've done."

"We've come home properly worked up to face the music," said Jeremy. "United we stand, dad. We feel that very much indeed; and divided we should have fallen without a doubt. But well we know that there's nothing like the plain, unvarnished truth and----"

"Dry up and listen to me," replied his father. "As nought else will serve but the truth in a case like this, it ain't particular wonderful to hear you say the truth have got to come out. But why you hid the truth, you know; and Jane's told me, so I know also. That's your weak nature, and I'm not troubling myself about you, nor yet this woman, who may very like be too good for you."

"Far from it, Mr. Huxam," said the young wife. "With all his faults, Jeremy's a lot better than me."

"Don't eat humble pie, Jane," said her husband. "That's a thing that never pays with mother. She hates for people to cringe."

"It's your mother and only your mother I'm thinking upon at present," continued Barlow, "and according as your mother receives this blow, so it will be. At best it must shake her to the roots, because it shows up a very dark and unexpected side of you. Cowards are always cunning, and it don't astonish me so much, because it's well in keeping with your character to do a thing behind the scenes you wouldn't dare in the open; but his mother have always had a soft corner for him, Jane--the only soft corner she ever allowed herself for anybody--except her Maker--and so this is going to be an eye-opener for her. And an eye-opener, where the heart is set, always happens to be the most painful sort."

"You're speaking without allowing for the great powers of my wife, dad," murmured Jeremy.

"I am," admitted Mr. Huxam, "because I don't know anything about the great powers of your wife; but I know the great powers of mine, and her way of looking at everything; and her principles and her trust in even Higher Powers than her own."

"Our marriage was made in Heaven, if ever there was one, I'm sure," ventured Jane.

"It may, or may not have been. But Heaven never meant for you to keep it hid from Jeremy's parents; and if it was made in Heaven, Mrs. Huxam would have been the last to try and prevent it," answered Barlow. "The point for the minute is to break it to her, and I'm inclined to think I can do that a lot better than my son."

"Devil doubt it!" said Jeremy with great relief. "It's like your sense to see that, father. I quite agree. I quite agree. Supposing Jane and I go for a nice walk and come back home to tea?"

"Do Mrs. Parsons know?" asked Mr. Huxam.

"There again," answered Jeremy. "We didn't tell her. Not but well we know she'll be glad."

"She'll be proud," promised Jane. "It will be the proudest day of her life. She never hoped anything like Jeremy for me, Mr. Huxam. She knew there were a good few after me, but never thought of your son."

Mrs. Milly Parsons now dwelt in a cottage by Lydia Bridge, where the river took a great leap before descending into the meadows and woods of Brent. Thankfully Jeremy postponed the supreme moment of the day, left his father to break the news, implored him to do so in a friendly spirit and wandered off with his wife up the valley beside the river.

Then Barlow Huxam returned to his shop, called Judith from behind the counter for a moment and prepared to tell her what had happened.

"At my wish, Judy, our son has gone up over and won't be back till tea-time," he began, but Mrs. Huxam stopped him.

"Who is she?" asked Jeremy's mother quite quietly.

Again Barlow felt the solid earth slipping.

"You know?" he asked.

"Two boxes have come, and Bonus brought them," she answered. "I told him only one was Jeremy's, and he said very like, but that the other belonged to his wife."

"It's true. Wonders never cease in our family--well ordered though it may be. The world's to the young, and a proper mess they seem likely to make of it. You always thought that marriage would save or settle Jeremy, and we can only pray that it will save him."

Mrs. Huxam was pale. She mopped her face quietly with a white handkerchief and remained silent.

"Don't you take on," he begged. "Don't let it shake you."

"Does anything shake me?" she asked. "What right should I have to stand with the Chosen Few, Barlow Huxam, if anything shook me? It's the Lord's will and that's enough."

"There!" he said, "faltering creature that I am, I never thought of that."

"No--nor yet Jeremy. But a man don't marry a woman by chance. It had to be, and it is. And who is she?"

"Jane Parsons--child of Milly Parsons by Lydia Bridge, who was daughter of the late Matthew Catt of Bullstone Farm. The Lord's doing and marvellous in our eyes, Judy."

"Things done behind our backs are often marvellous in our eyes, when we first see them," she answered. "I shall take this as I take everything else, Barlow, knowing where it comes from."

"It may be a blessing in disguise. She's a fine girl and will have her mother's little bit of money. Farmer Catt left just in sight of four figures. They'll be here to tea. They're full of resolutions."