Chapter XXXII: Jane and Jerry

Under the first grey of dawn, Maynard posted a letter in the empty wrens' nest and then proceeded down the hill to Lower Town. He was on an errand from Falcon Farm to Mr. Chaffe, and then he would proceed to a farm on the moor, about the purchase of two heifers. For Stockman had long since found that Lawrence knew as much concerning cattle as himself. The present arrangements had been made before the cowman gave notice, and his latest letter to Dinah chronicled the fact that he had done so. He answered also her last note. The letter-box worked well and many communications had been exchanged. Dinah's were full of love and ardour. Her plans amused him. They shared one determination; to take nothing with them. They would sail from Plymouth for Australia presently and they would be married at Sydney as soon as possible after landing. Maynard's money was more than enough and their passages would be state-aided. Preliminaries were complete and there remained only to fix their place of meeting and date of sailing. Then they would simultaneously disappear.

Mr. Chaffe was already in his workshop when Maynard appeared.

"Early birds both!" said he. "I know what you've come about, however. Joe wants me to look into his stables, where the dry rot have got, and see how much must come out and be made good."

"That's right, Mr. Chaffe."

"I've been waiting and expecting it since Palk made the sad discovery. But no doubt your master has his mind pretty full of greater things."

"He has, I'm afraid. And it's making him fall short of his usual sense here and there."

"A man full of sense, however."

"So I've always found him, and full of human kindness also. I've a lot to thank him for--a very good friend to me. But a few days agone I gave notice, because I'm going farther afield before I'm too old, and he took it very bad indeed."

"My! You going too? Where?"

"To Australia. I want to see a bit of life and start fresh."

"And Joe didn't like it?"

"No; but he'll easily find a new cowman. There's nothing to get so savage about that I can see."

"He'd come to look at you as part of his show. No doubt, falling on his other troubles---- But he knows where to look for comfort I should hope. After all, it's but a passing thing. I always say that we who live in a Vale ought to know what a vale means. Life's gone a thought too flowing and easy with Joe. This is all meant to make him think of Beyond."

"Thought of the next world don't make trouble anything less than trouble."

"It ought then."

"Look after this world and the next will look after itself, Mr. Chaffe."

"A very dangerous opinion, Maynard, and I'm sorry you think so. It shows a weakness in you. That ain't the Christian standpoint and you know it."

"Your views are behind the times perhaps."

"Far from it: they're ahead of the times. It's the still, small voice ain't heard in these days. The world knows its noisiest men, not its greatest; and so it don't know its Saviour--not even yet."

"Life's life, Mr. Chaffe, and what you hold runs counter to life. It's no sense preaching earthly misery to humans, because they're built to hate misery and seek happiness."

"I don't preach misery. I only preach that happiness must be looked for in the next world, not this one. It don't belong here and never will."

Maynard shook his head.

"I've thought of these things and I see your Church standing between man and a lot of lawful happiness. Let the Church help to clear up the cruel mess in this world."

"Then join the brotherhood of God and do your share."

"Only the brotherhood of man can do it. Justice ain't the possession of you Church people alone. And while you demand such a lot of injustice, you'll only lose your friends. Take marriage. You won't let marriage be a human thing, nor yet divorce. You let marriage be a trap for people--easy to get in, impossible to get out--then you've got the face to say it's God's will--the God of love and mercy!"

"I'm sorry to hear you talk in this wicked way, and I know where you learnt such bad learning," answered Arthur. "But Enoch Withycombe wouldn't say those things now, Maynard. He's in the Light now, and it would make him a very sad man to hear you."

"I didn't get my opinions from him. I only keep my eyes open and see how life goes; and I know there's hundreds and hundreds of poor people living in misery to-day, because you say God brought 'em together, instead of the Devil."

"We'll talk about this another time. I must try to open your eyes if I can. You stand on very dangerous ground and your little bit o' learning's like a Jack o' Lantern--it'll land you in a bog if you don't watch it. John Bamsey's much the same, only his doubts take him in another direction. The mischief with you young men is that you think your own twopenny-halfpenny opinions matter; and in his case, he lets a small thing like his own experience poison his life and spoil his Christian outlook."

"Your own experience isn't a small thing," argued Lawrence, but the carpenter declared personal experience a very trumpery matter.

"Only the weak mind will let the things that happen to it influence conscience and the knowledge of right and wrong," he said. "Our faith is founded on a Rock, remember, and our bad luck and earthly frets and cares did only ought to make us cling the stouter to that Rock."

They talked but did not convince each other. Then Lawrence went his way, leaving in the mind of Mr. Chaffe considerable uneasiness. In the carpenter's knowledge there were not a few who professed similar opinions, and it greatly saddened him to see the younger generation slipping away from the faith of its fathers. He held that no sound democracy was possible without religion, and to hear young men say that religion had no more to do with democracy than football, was a serious grief to him.

Meantime there had happened behind Lawrence Maynard's back a thing of much import. Though the hour was still early, two people entered the lane through the woods some fifty minutes after he had descended it, and their arrival synchronised at the region of the ivy bank and the wrens' nest. A few seconds more would have seen Jerry Withycombe past the spot, on his way to work in the valley; but chance so willed it that, as he rounded a bend on his way, he saw beneath him, but still far distant, a woman's sun-bonnet, and he recognised its faded blue. She with whom his melancholy thoughts were concerned was evidently approaching, and the fact that she should be out so early, and on the way she knew he must be travelling to his work, created sudden, deep emotion in the woodman. His quarrel with Jane bulked larger in his eyes than in hers. She continued to be obdurate about a trifle, from no opinion that the trifle really mattered, but because it gave her a sense of freedom and a loophole if she so desired. She continued to be really fond of Jerry, and it wanted no great change of mind to bring them together. Indeed she proposed ere long to make it up. And now it seemed as though she were about to do so, and had put herself to trouble and risen early to meet him on his way.

A few moments, however, brought large disappointment for the man. At sight of the sun-bonnet, he had backed and waited to watch. Now he quickly perceived the approaching figure was not Jane's slim shape, but Dinah's ampler proportions. He was cast down from a great hope and scowled at the innocent Dinah. Then a ray of light shot his darkness, for it occurred to him that Dinah might be a messenger of good tidings. At any rate the sun-bonnet was Jane's--picked up haphazard no doubt, when Dinah set forth.

He waited and watched a few moments before proceeding, then marked Dinah stop and do a strange thing. She had not come to seek him it seemed after all; but something she sought and something she found.

In truth the lover of Lawrence was there to leave a letter. She did not expect one and was the more delighted to find the note left an hour before. Jerry saw her peep about, to be sure she was alone, then go to the green bank, insert her hand and bring out a small white object from the ivy. She stood and evidently read a letter. Still he held back, in great wonder at this scene. Dinah next produced something from her own pocket, opened it and appeared to write. She was adding a few words to the note that she had brought. She then put it in the nest and was quickly gone again down the hill.

Jerry waited till Dinah had disappeared; then, having marked the spot where she stood, he shouldered his frail and proceeded. Already he had a suspicion of the truth and presently made cautious search under the ivy-curtain. Nothing rewarded him until he found the old nest and a piece of paper therein. It was folded closely but conveyed no information on the outside. He held it in his hand a few moments and his mind worked in a selfish direction. Here was an item of tremendous interest to one person. He did not doubt that the letter was intended for a man, and felt very sure the fact proved his own sweetheart's assurance: that Dinah was secretly engaged, if not married. His thoughts were with Jane, and it seemed to him that chance had now thrown him an admirable opportunity to win her back. For such a secret as this would be meat and drink to her. Nor need it hurt Dinah. Jerry had not the slightest desire to hurt anybody; but he felt that his information might be well worth Jane's forgiveness; and if Dinah were indeed courting a local man, no harm could befall either her, or him, by the fact of their secret escaping. There might be a good joke in it: that anything to distress and confound the secret lovers could spring from his discovery he did not guess.

To him, then, this post office of Dinah and an unknown appeared a great and delightful find, capable of doing him a very good turn. It meant a triumph for Jane--a sort of triumph she would appreciate; but it also meant a bargain that should recover Jane's friendship before completion.

To find the unknown man would be easy now; indeed Jerry guessed that he had only to open the letter to learn it; but that was not an action possible to him. He restored the folded paper to its place, marked the spot very carefully and was content to leave the rest to Jane. She would have to see him, and that for the moment she declined to do; but he proposed to himself a visit after his day's work and doubted not that, if he pressed it forcibly enough, she might consent. Failing that, he would have to proceed single-handed with his inquiry. He felt sure enough that Jane had all along been right in her conviction that Maynard was the man, and he already anticipated her triumph if this should prove to be so.

That night he called at Green Hayes and it was Dinah who answered his knock. Jerry felt uncomfortable, but salved his conscience and invited her friendship.

She, knowing very well why he was come, left him and returned to the kitchen.

"Jerry wants to see you half a minute, Jane," she said. "He won't keep you, but he's got something to say as you must hear. It's a wonderful thing, he says, and will interest you a lot."

Jane, however, showed no immediate inclination to respond.

"Like his cheek," she said. "Didn't I tell the know-naught fool that when I wanted him I'd let him know?"

"Well, he wants you. And he's bursting with news seemingly. He begged me very earnest to ask you to see him."

"Perhaps his patience is out," said Mrs. Bamsey. "Perhaps he's come to give you up, Jane."

"No," she said. "I ban't feared of that. I only want him to see sense over a little matter here and there. If we are to be married in the autumn, he's got to understand about a few things."

Jane's secrets were secrets no longer. Her dream of a shop at Ashburton was now common knowledge.

"Go to him then. You've kept it up long enough if you really want him," said her mother.

"What should he have to tell me, except he's come round to my views?" asked Jane.

"Perhaps he has," replied Dinah.

Jane rose, dropped a story book and went out. There was a mumble of voices. Then Dinah and Faith heard her go down the garden path with Jerry.

"Thank goodness that's over," said Dinah. "Now you'll have peace, Mrs. Bamsey."

"I don't know," answered the elder. "They're not really well suited. Jane did ought to have taken a town man."

"She'll break him in to bricks and mortar after a bit," prophesied Dinah. "They love each other properly enough."

"If that was so, there'd be no talk of breaking in," said Jane's mother.

Meantime Jerry had spoken.

"It's very kind of you to see me," he said, "and you won't regret it. I've got a great piece of news for you, and it's a triumph for you, Jane, and if you agree to come round and make it up and be same as you was, I'll tell you."

"What's the great news you'd be likely to hear?"

"I didn't hear it: I found it out. And it'll be a lot more to you than me for that matter."

They talked like children.

"Very well then I'll hear it."

"And be friends?"

"I'll be friends, if it's such great news as you say."

"No; that means you'll go back on it after. You must be friends. And we'll regard it still open about the shop. And you needn't fear my news ain't great. 'Tis a triumph for you, and everybody will say so."

Jane's triumphs were few. She considered. She had not the faintest idea of the matter in his mind, yet was glad to be close to him again and hear his voice.

"All right then," she said. "The shop can wait."

"Will you come out for an hour? Then you shall see something, as well as hear tell about it."

She turned, picked up the sun-bonnet that Dinah had donned in the morning, and followed him.

He made her kiss him and then they went up the hill as he told his story in every particular.

"And why for I've fetched you out," he said, "is because you shall see it with your own eyes."

She was deeply interested.

"And 'tis greatly to your credit," declared Jerry, "for you've seen through it from the first, like the clever one you are. 'Tis a feather in your cap, Jane."

"It fits in very suent," she answered, "because Maynard's given warning and be off presently; and if 'tis him, then no doubt they'll be off together. And God knows that won't trouble me."

"Why all this secret business?" asked Jerry. "There's no law against 'em marrying if they want to. What be they shamed of?"

"Can't you see that? The man who's after Dinah must know all about the past and how she served John. He's feared of John. My brother's took this like any proud man would. He's not going to have his name dragged in the dirt and take his wicked wrongs lying down."

Jerry was concerned.

"You don't mean to tell me this is any business of John's? Surely to God he's got sense enough to----?"

"You can leave John," she said, to calm his anxiety. "I'm not one to make trouble I'm sure. I'm only telling you. The chap after Dinah is afeared of John, and that's why they're keeping it close hid. What other reason can they have?"

"Then I do beg you'll respect their secret plans so far," urged Jerry. "I'm not telling you this for any mischief against anybody. I only wanted for you to have the pleasure of finding yourself in the right; and I thought 'twould be a bit of fun to let everybody know of it, and surprise Dinah and him and have a laugh at 'em--all friendly and well meaning. But if you tell me Johnny still means to be evil disposed to anybody as looks at Dinah, then the case is altered, for that means trouble."

But Jane was not prepared to lose the salt of the adventure for Jerry, or anybody. She kept her intentions secret, however.

"John's not a fool. I didn't mean that he'd do anything. What could he do? I only meant that the man, whoever he is, feels frightened of him. Of course there's no reason why he should be. Only a coward would be. So he's fair game anyway."

"If 'tis to be a laughing matter, I'll go on--not else," vowed Jerry; but she assured him that nothing but laughter would end the incident in any case.

They climbed the hill and he picked up his marks; then bade Jane light matches while he hunted for the nest. It was quickly found; she put her hand in and drew out Dinah's letter deposited that morning.

"He haven't come for it yet," said Jerry. "So us had better be moving, for he might be on his way this minute."

But Jane delayed and held the letter in her hand.

"If he only comes by night, we shall never find out who it is," she answered. "And you've been a very clever chap indeed, Jerry; and the rest you can leave with me. And don't you fear no trouble--of course not."

There was an obvious desire in her mind; but she guessed what Jerry would think of it and so kept it hidden and returned the letter to the nest.

"Well, you're a great wonder to find this out," she said, "and I'll keep my word and be friends. Don't you whisper a word to a soul yet. Leave it to me."

"No, no--this is your bit of fun," he declared. "They'll puzzle like fury to know how it slipped out, and us'll all roar with laughter at 'em I expect."

Indeed, he laughed in anticipation.

"Hush!" she said. "The man may be on his way now. I'll see you Sunday afternoon. And I'll find out for sure who the chap is by then, if I've got to hide and watch for him."

Jerry was overjoyed and embraced her.

"Sunday, then, and thank God we'm all right again, and us must never fall out no more, Jane; and I shall always feel kindly to these people, whether or no, because they've done this good deed for us."

Then they parted, each promising the other to keep a sharp look out on any passer-by. Jerry went his way in the best possible spirits and Jane started to run down the hill. But she did not run far and after her lover was out of the way, she stole back. She had kept his box of matches and now did a thing Jerry had probably forbidden. Not perhaps that his objection might have stopped her, but Jane's mind moved swiftly. Before all else it was desirable to find out the man, and she felt that nobody but a fool would waste time in detective operations while so simple an expedient as opening a letter offered. She had observed that Dinah's missive was merely folded, not sealed, and now she returned to the nest, found it and satisfied herself. Jane's honesty reached a point that amply soothed conscience. She had no intention to read the letter: that she would have held an improper action; but if the first words indicated the recipient, as she doubted not they would, then a great deal of time and trouble might be saved.

Jane opened the letter, having first listened that no approaching footfall broke the silence. Then she struck another match, read the words, "My darling Man," and hesitated. The match went out and she stood with the letter in her hand. Experience told her, from her own occasional communications to Jerry, that one might begin with an endearing but vague term and yet, at some later point in one's communication, mention the loved object by name. Dinah's large, free handwriting was easily seen and Jane considered that it would be possible to skim the letter, without really reading it, on the chance of finding the information she desired. This astute reasoning was rewarded, for, on the second sheet, as her eyes flickered along the lines, the name "Lawrence" very clearly appeared. Then she stopped, dropped her match, folded the letter carefully, restored it to its place and was gone.

"There's only one 'Lawrence' in these parts," thought Jane. Her reflections were now entirely with her brother. She did not echo Jerry's wish, that the matter should end in laughter, and clever though Jane was in some directions, there was a streak of malevolent idiocy about her in others. She now cherished a vague opinion that the man ought to suffer for his secret love-making. She despised him for a coward and rejoiced to think that John might do something drastic in the matter. That Maynard should be called upon to suffer seemed entirely reasonable to Jane; while as far as Dinah was concerned, she panted with delight that her little schemes were now to be made as public as the bird's-nest she had trusted with them. She hated Dinah and had always done so. Anything therefore that could make Dinah miserable must commend itself to Jane.

"And she shall know who she's got to thank, too," reflected the maiden; "there wouldn't be much in it for me if she didn't hear who'd found her out."

Full of these unamiable intentions Jerry's sweetheart returned home and announced that she and her lover were reconciled.

"Thank the Lord for that, then," cried Dinah. "And don't you give him a chance to quarrel again. 'Tis good time lost, Jane."

"You mind your own love affairs," answered the other tartly. "Us all know you've got 'em; but be too shamed of 'em, seemingly, to make 'em public."

With this crushing response Jane retired while Dinah stared after her.

"Don't mind the girl," said Faith Bamsey. "You be such a woman of mystery since you went off about your affairs, that you mustn't quarrel with people if they fling their words at you."

"I don't want to quarrel with anybody, Mrs. Bamsey," answered Dinah.