Marcella Part 103

"I think so," she said eagerly. "I shall live here very simply, and acc.u.mulate all the reserve fund I can. I have set all my heart upon it.

I know there are not many people _could_ do such a thing--other obligations would, must, come first. And it may turn out a mistake.

But--whatever happens--whatever any of us, Socialists or not, may hope for in the future--here one _is_ with one's conscience, and one's money, and these people, who like oneself have but the one life? In all labour, it is the modern question, isn't it?--_how much_ of the product of labour the workman can extract from the employer? About here there is no union to act for the labourers--they have practically no power. But _in the future_, we must surely _hope_ they will combine, that they will be stronger--strong enough to _force_ a decent wage. What ought to prevent my free will antic.i.p.ating a moment--since I _can_ do it--that we all want to see?"

She spoke with a strong feeling; but his ear detected a new note--something deeper and wistfuller than of old.

"Well--as you say, you are for experiments!" he replied, not finding it easy to produce his own judgment quickly. Then, in another tone--"it was always Hallin's cry."

She glanced up at him, her lips trembling.

"I know. Do you remember how he used to say--'the big changes may come--the big Collectivist changes. But neither you nor I will see them.

I pray _not_ to see them. Meanwhile--all still hangs upon, comes back to, the individual, Here are you with your money and power; there are those men and women whom you can share with--in new and honourable ways--_to-day_.'"

Then she checked herself suddenly.

"But now I want you to tell me--will you tell me?--all the objections you see. You must often have thought such things over."

She was looking nervously straight before her. She did not see the flash of half-bitter, half-tender irony that crossed his face. Her tone of humility, of appeal, was so strange to him, remembering the past.

"Yes, very often," he answered. "Well, I think these are the kind of arguments you will have to meet."

He went through the objections that any economist would be sure to weigh against a proposal of the kind, as clearly as he could, and at some length--but without zest. What affected Marcella all through was not so much the matter of what he said, as the manner of it. It was so characteristic of the two voices in him--the voice of the idealist checked and mocked always by the voice of the observer and the student.

A year before, the little harangue would have set her aflame with impatience and wrath. Now, beneath the speaker, she felt and yearned towards the man.

Yet, as to the scheme, when all demurs were made, she was "of the same opinion still"! His arguments were not new to her; the inward eagerness over-rode them.

"In my own case"--he said at last, the tone pa.s.sing instantly into reserve and shyness, as always happened when he spoke of himself--"my own wages are two or three s.h.i.+llings higher than those paid generally by the farmers on the estate; and we have a pension fund. But so far, I have felt the risks of any wholesale disturbance of labour on the estate, depending, as it must entirely in my case, on the individual life and will, to be too great to let me go further. I sometimes believe that it is the farmers who would really benefit most by experiments of the kind!"

She protested vehemently, being at the moment, of course, not at all in love with mankind in general, but only with those members of mankind who came within the eye of imagination. He was enchanted to see the old self come out again--positive, obstinate, generous; to see the old confident pose of the head, the dramatic ease of gesture.

Meanwhile something that had to be said, that must, indeed, be said, if he were to give her serious and official advice, pressed uncomfortably on his tongue.

"You know," he said, not looking at her, when at last she had for the moment exhausted argument and prophecy, "you have to think of those who will succeed you here; still more you have to think--of marriage--before you pledge yourself to the halving of your income."

Now he must needs look at her intently, out of sheer nervousness. The difficulty he had had in compelling himself to make the speech at all had given a certain hardness and stiffness to his voice. She felt a sudden shock and chill--resented what he had dismally felt to be an imperative duty.

"I do not think I have any need to think of it--in this connection," she said proudly. And getting up, she began to gather her papers together.

The spell was broken, the charm gone. He felt that he was dismissed.

With a new formality and silence, she led the way into the hall, he following. As they neared the library there was a sound of voices.

Marcella opened the door in surprise, and there, on either side of the fire, sat Betty Macdonald and Frank Leven.

"_That's_ a mercy!" cried Betty, running forward to Marcella and kissing her. "I really don't know what would have happened if Mr. Leven and I had been left alone any longer. As for the Kilkenny cats, my dear, don't mention them!"

The child was flushed and agitated, and there was an angry light in her blue eyes. Frank looked simply lumpish and miserable.

"Yes, here I am," said Betty, holding Marcella, and chattering as fast as possible. "I made Miss Raeburn bring me over, that I might _just_ catch a sight of you. She would walk home, and leave the carriage for me. Isn't it like all the topsy-turvy things nowadays? When _I'm_ her age I suppose I shall have gone back to dolls. Please to look at those ponies!--they're pawing your gravel to bits. And as for my watch, just inspect it!"--She thrust it reproachfully under Marcella's eyes. "You've been such a time in there talking, that Sir Frank and I have had time to quarrel for life, and there isn't a minute left for anything rational.

Oh! good-bye, my dear, good-bye. I never kept Miss Raeburn waiting for lunch yet, did I, Mr. Aldous? and I mustn't begin now. Come along, Mr.

Aldous! You'll have to come home with me. I'm frightened to death of those ponies. You shan't drive, but if they bolt, I'll give them to you to pull in. Dear, _dear_ Marcella, let me come again--soon--directly!"

A few more sallies and kisses, a few more angry looks at Frank and appeals to Aldous, who was much less responsive than usual, and the child was seated, very erect and rosy, on the driving seat of the little pony-carriage, with Aldous beside her.

"Are you coming, Frank?" said Aldous; "there's plenty of room."

His strong brow had a pucker of annoyance. As he spoke he looked, not at Frank, but at Marcella. She was standing a trifle back, among the shadows of the doorway, and her att.i.tude conveyed to him an impression of proud aloofness. A sigh that was half pain, half resignation, pa.s.sed his lips unconsciously.

"Thank you, I'll walk," said Frank, fiercely.

"Now, will you please explain to me why you look like that, and talk like that?" said Marcella, with cutting composure, when she was once more in the library, and Frank, crimson to the roots of his hair, and saying incoherent things, had followed her there.

"I should think you might guess," said Frank, in reproachful misery, as he hung over the fire.

"Not at all!" said Marcella; "you are rude to Betty, and disagreeable to me, by which I suppose that you are unhappy. But why should _you_ be allowed to show your feelings, when other people don't?"

Frank fairly groaned.

"Well," he said, making efforts at a tragic calm, and looking for his hat, "you will, none of you, be troubled with me long. I shall go home to-morrow, and take my ticket for California the day after."

_"You,"_ said Marcella, "go to California! What right have you to go to California?"

"What right?" Frank stared, then he went on impetuously. "If a girl torments a man, as Betty has been tormenting me, there is nothing for it, I should think, but to clear out of the way. I am going to clear out of the way, whatever anybody says."

"And shoot big game, I suppose--amuse yourself somehow?"

Frank hesitated.

"Well, a fellow can't do nothing," he said helplessly. "I suppose I shall shoot."

"And what right have you to do it? Have you any more right than a public official would have to spend public money in neglecting his duties?"

Frank stared at her.

"Well, I don't know what you mean," he said at last, angrily; "give it up."

"It's quite simple what I mean. You have inherited your father's property. Your tenants pay you rent, that comes from their labour. Are you going to make no return for your income, and your house, and your leisure?"

"Ah! that's your Socialism!" cried the young fellow, roused by her tone.

"No return? Why, they have the land."

"If I were a thorough-going Socialist," said Marcella, steadily, "I should say to you, Go! The sooner you throw off all ties to your property, the sooner you prove to the world that you and your cla.s.s are mere useless parasites, the sooner we shall be rid of you. But unfortunately _I_ am not such a good Socialist as that. I waver--I am not sure of what I wish. But one thing I _am_ sure of, that unless people like you are going to treat their lives as a profession, to take their calling seriously, there are no more superfluous drones, no more idle plunderers than you, in all civilised society!"

Was she pelting him in this way that she might so get rid of some of her own inner smart and restlessness? If so, the unlucky Frank could not guess it. He could only feel himself intolerably ill-used. He had meant to pour himself out to her on the subject of Betty and his woes, and here she was rating him as to his _duties_, of which he had hardly as yet troubled himself to think, being entirely taken up either with his grievances or his enjoyments.

"I'm sure you know you're talking nonsense," he said sulkily, though he shrank from meeting her fiery look. "And if I _am_ idle, there are plenty of people idler than me--people who live on their money, with no land to bother about, and nothing to do for it at all."