JOAN HASTE - H. RIDER HAGGARD (inspirational novels txt) 📗

to undeceive her, since to do so would have involved long explanations, on which at the moment she had neither the wish nor the strength to enter; moreover, she was sure that Mrs. Bird would disapprove of this strange contract and oppose it with all her force. Even then, however, she could not help reflecting how oddly things had fallen out. It was as though some superior power were smoothing away every difficulty, and, to fulfil secret motives of its own, was pushing her into this hideous and shameful union. For instance, though she had never considered it, had not Mrs. Bird fatuously taken it for granted that her visitor must be Sir Henry and no other man, it was probable that she would have found means to prevent him from seeing her, or, failing that, she would have put a stop upon the project by communicating with Henry. For a moment Joan was tempted to tell her the truth and let her do what she would, in the hope that she might save her from herself. But she resisted the desire, and answered simply,--

"Yes; I shall probably be married to-morrow or the next day."

"To-morrow!" ejaculated Mrs. Bird, holding up her hands. "Why, you haven't even got a dress ready."

"I can do without that," she replied, "especially as the ceremony is to be before a registrar."

"Before a registrar, Joan! Why, if I did such a thing I should never feel half married; besides, it's wicked."

"Perhaps," said Joan, smiling again; "but it is the only fashion in which it can be arranged, and it will serve our turn. By the way, shall you mind if I come back to live here afterwards?"

"What, with your husband? There would not be room for two of you; besides, a baronet could never put up with a place like this."

"No, without him. We are going to keep separate for a year."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird, "what an extraordinary arrangement!"

"There are difficulties, Mrs. Bird, and it is the only one that we could come to. I suppose that I can stay on?"

"Oh! yes, if you like; but really I do not understand."

"I can't explain just at present, dear," said Joan gently. "I am too tired; you will know all about it soon."

"Well," thought Mrs. Bird, as she left the room, "somehow I don't like that baronet so much as I did. It is all so odd and secret. I hope that he doesn't mean to deceive Joan with a false marriage and then to desert her. I have heard of people of rank doing such things. But if he tries it on he will have to reckon with me."

That afternoon Joan received the following telegram: "All arranged. Will call for you at two the day after to-morrow. Samuel."

CHAPTER XXXIV(THE OPENING OF THE GATE)

 

It was a quarter to two on the Thursday and Joan, dressed in the black silk gown that she used to wear when on duty at Messrs. Black & Parker's, awaited the arrival of her intended husband in the little sitting-room, where presently Mrs. Bird joined her, attired in a lilac dress and a bonnet with white flowers and long tulle strings.

"What, my dear, are you going to be married in black? Pray don't: it is so unlucky."

"It is the best dress that I have," answered Joan.

"There is the pretty grey one."

"No," she replied hastily, "I will not wear that. Besides, the black one is more suitable."

"Joan, Joan," cried Mrs. Bird, "is everything right? You don't look as you ought to--not a bit happy."

"Quite right, thank you," she answered, with an unmoved countenance. "I have been shut up for so long that the idea of going out upsets me a little, that is all."

Then Mrs. Bird collapsed and sat silent, but Joan, moving to the window, looked down the street. The sight was not an inspiring one, for it was a wet and miserable afternoon even for London in November, and the rain trickled ceaselessly down the dirty window-panes. Presently through the mist Joan saw a four-wheeled cab advancing towards the house.

"Come," she said, "here it is." And she put on a heavy cloak over her other wrappings.

At the door she paused for a moment, as though her resolution failed her; then passed downstairs with a steady step. Mr. Rock was already in the passage inquiring for her from Maria.

"Here I am," she said; "let us go at once. I am afraid of catching cold if I stand about."

Apparently Samuel was too much taken aback to make any answer, and in another minute they were all three in the cab driving towards the nearest registry.

"I managed it all right, Joan," he said, bending forward and raising his voice to make himself heard above the rattling of the crazy cab. "I was only just in time, though, for I had to give forty-eight hours' clear notice at the registry, and to make all sorts of affidavits about your age, and as to your having been resident in the parish for more than fifteen days."

Joan received this information in silence, and nothing more was said until they arrived at the office.

From that moment till the end of the ceremony, so far as her immediate surroundings were concerned, Joan's mind was very much of a blank. She remembered, indeed, standing before a pleasant-looking gentleman with gold spectacles and a bald head, who asked her certain questions which she answered. She remembered also that Samuel put a ring upon her finger, for she noticed how his long white hands shook as he did so, and their hateful touch for a few instants stirred her from her lethargy. Then there arose in her mind a vision of herself standing on a golden summer afternoon by the ruins of an ancient church, and of one who spoke to her, and whom she must never see again. The vision passed, and she signed something. While her pen was yet upon the paper, she heard Mrs. Bird exclaim, in a shrill, excited voice--

"I forbid it. There's fraud here, as I believed all along. I thought that he used the wrong name, and now he's gone and signed it."

"What do you mean, madam?" asked the registrar. "Pray explain yourself."

"I mean that he is deceiving this poor girl into a false marriage. His name is Sir Henry Graves, Bart., and he has signed himself there Samuel Rock."

"The good lady is under a mistake," explained Samuel, clasping his hands and writhing uncomfortably: "my name is Rock, and I am a farmer, not a baronet."

"Well, I must say, sir," answered the registrar, "that you look as little like the one as the other. But this is a serious matter, so perhaps your wife will clear it up. She ought to know who and what you are, if anybody does."

"He is Mr. Samuel Rock, of the Moor Farm, Bradmouth," Joan answered, in an impassive voice. "My friend here is mistaken. Sir Henry Graves is quite a different person."

Mrs. Bird heard, and sank into a chair speechless, nor did she utter another syllable until she found herself at home again. Then the business went on, and presently the necessary certificates, of which Samuel was careful to obtain certified copies, were filled in and signed, and the party left the office.

"There's something odd about that affair," said the registrar to his assistant as he entered the amount of the fee received in a ledger, "and I shouldn't wonder if Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Rock make their appearance in the Courts before they are much older. However, all the papers are in order, so they can't blame me. What a pretty woman she is!--but she looked very sad and ill."

In the waiting-room of the office Joan held out her hand to Samuel, and said, "Good-bye."

"Mayn't I see you home?" he asked piteously.

She shook her head and answered, "On this day year, if I am alive, you may see as much of me as you like, but till then we are strangers," and she moved towards the door.

He stretched out his arms as though to embrace her; but, followed by the bewildered Mrs. Bird, she swept past him, and soon they were driving back to Kent Street, leaving Samuel standing bare-headed upon the pavement in the rain, and gazing after her.

In the passage of No. 8 Sally was waiting to present Joan with a bouquet of white flowers, that she had found no opportunity to give her as she went out. Joan took the flowers and, bending down, kissed the dumb child; and that kiss was the only touch of nature in all the nefarious and unnatural business of her marriage. Mrs. Bird followed her upstairs, and so soon as the door was closed, said,--

"For pity's sake, Joan, tell me what all this means. Am I mad, or are you?"

"I am, Mrs. Bird," she answered. "If you want to know, I have married this man, who has been in love with me a long while, but whom I hate, in order to prevent Sir Henry Graves from making me his wife."

"But why, Joan? but why?" Mrs. Bird gasped.

"Because if I had married Sir Henry I should have ruined him, and also because I promised Lady Graves that I would not do so. Had I once seen him I should have broken my promise, so I have taken this means to put myself out of temptation, having first told Mr. Rock the whole truth, and bargained that I should not go to live with him for another year."

"Oh! this is terrible, terrible!" said Mrs. Bird, wringing her hands; "and what a reptile the man must be to marry you on such terms, and knowing that you loathe the sight of him!"

"Do not abuse him, Mrs. Bird, for on the whole I think that he is as much wronged as anybody; at least he is my husband, whom I have taken with my eyes open, as he has taken me."

"He may be your husband, but he is a liar for all that; for he told me that he was Sir Henry Graves, and that is why I let him come up to see you, although I thought, from the look of him, that he couldn't be a baronet. Well, Joan, you have done it now, and as you've sown so you will have to reap. The wages of sin is death, that's the truth of it. You've gone wrong, and, like many another, you have got to suffer. I don't believe in your arguments that have made you marry this crawling creature. They are a kind of lie, and, like all lies, they will bring misery. You have a good heart, but you've never disciplined it, and a heart without discipline is the most false of guides. It isn't for me to reproach you, Joan, who am, I dare say, ten times worse than you are, but I can't hold with your methods. However, you are married to this man now, so if you're wise you'll try to make the best of him and forget the other."

"Yes," she answered, "I shall if I am wise, or if I can find wisdom."

Then Mrs. Bird began to cry and went away. When she had gone, Joan sat down and wrote