Clara Hopgood
Page 21'We cannot,' said Madge, 'all of us come to terms after this fashion
with our consciences, but we have had enough of these discussions on
morality. Let us go out.'
They went out, and, as some relief from the straight road, they
turned into a field as they came home, and walked along a footpath
which crossed the broad, deep ditches by planks. They were within
about fifty yards of the last and broadest ditch, more a dyke than a
ditch, when Frank, turning round, saw an ox which they had not
noticed, galloping after them.
'Go on, go on,' he cried, 'make for the plank.'
He discerned in an instant that unless the course of the animal could
be checked it would overtake them before the bridge could be reached.
The women fled, but Frank remained. He was in the habit of carrying
a heavy walking-stick, the end of which he had hollowed out in his
schooldays and had filled up with lead. Just as the ox came upon
him, it laid its head to the ground, and Frank, springing aside,
dealt it a tremendous, two-handed blow on the forehead with his
knobbed weapon. The creature was dazed, it stopped and staggered,
was a little hysterical sobbing, but it was soon over.
'Oh, Mr Palmer,' said Mrs Hopgood, 'what presence of mind and what
courage! We should have been killed without you.'
'The feat is not original, Mrs Hopgood. I saw it done by a tough
little farmer last summer on a bull that was really mad. There was
no ditch for him though, poor fellow, and he had to jump a hedge.'
'You did not find it difficult,' said Madge, 'to settle your problem
when it came to you in the shape of a wild ox.'
'Because there was nothing to settle,' said Frank, laughing; 'there
was only one thing to be done.'
'So you believed, or rather, so you saw,' said Clara. 'I should have
seen half-a-dozen things at once--that is to say, nothing.'
'And I,' said Madge, 'should have settled it the wrong way: I am
sure I should, even if I had been a man. I should have bolted.'
Frank stayed to tea, and the evening was musical. He left about ten,
but just as the door had shut he remembered he had forgotten his
stick. He gave a gentle rap and Madge appeared. She gave him his
'Good-bye again. Thanks for my life.'
Frank cursed himself that he could not find the proper word. He knew
there was something which might be said and ought to be said, but he
could not say it. Madge held out her hand to him, he raised it to
his lips and kissed it, and then, astonished at his boldness, he
instantly retreated. He went to the 'Crown and Sceptre' and was soon
in bed, but not to sleep. Strange, that the moment we lie down in
the dark, images, which were half obscured, should become so
intensely luminous! Madge hovered before Frank with almost tangible
distinctness, and he felt his fingers moving in her heavy, voluptuous
tresses. Her picture at last became almost painful to him and shamed
him, so that he turned over from side to side to avoid it. He had
never been thrown into the society of women of his own age, for he
had no sister, and a fire was kindled within him which burnt with a
heat all the greater because his life had been so pure. At last he
fell asleep and did not wake till late in the morning. He had just
time to eat his breakfast, pay one more business visit in the town,
the horses were being changed, he walked as near as he dared venture
to the windows of the cottage next door, but he could see nobody.
When the coach, however, began to move, he turned round and looked
behind him, and a hand was waved to him. He took off his hat, and in
five minutes he was clear of the town. It was in sight a long way,
but when, at last, it disappeared, a cloud of wretchedness swept over
him as the vapour sweeps up from the sea. What was she doing?
talking to other people, existing for others, laughing with others!
There were miles between himself and Fenmarket. Life! what was life?
A few moments of living and long, dreary gaps between. All this,
however, is a vain attempt to delineate what was shapeless. It was
an intolerable, unvanquishable oppression. This was Love; this was
the blessing which the god with the ruddy wings had bestowed on him.
It was a relief to him when the coach rattled through Islington, and
in a few minutes had landed him at the 'Angel.'