The Old Adam: A Story of Adventure

ying a large basket, weighted with all the heaviness of Fossette. Sophia, despite her age, climbed the steps violently, and burst with equal violence into the parlour, where she deposit

hia. "Did you hea

nstance. "What

tice. Her time will be up in three weeks. It's best to be indifferent. If once they see they can upset you…. However, I w

e head, examined the skin. Fossette was a sick dog and behaved like one. Fossette, too, w

e," said

lso knelt t

said Sophia.

animal. Fossette foolishly hoped by such appeals to be spared th

one vice, jealousy. Fearing that Fossette might be receiving the entire attention of his mistresses, he had come to inquire into the situation. When he found the justification of his gloomiest apprehensions, he nosed obstinately up to Constance,

appishly, and retired to the kitchen again, disillusioned, tired of the world, and nursi

ce said

he present occupant of the cave for yet another three weeks. Evidently they were in the midst of a crisis. To judge from Constance's face every imaginable woe had been piled on them by destiny without the slightest regard for their powers of resistance. Her eyes had the permanent look of wo

stay in a place more than six months. She liked change. And employers did not like change. She was shameless with men. She ignored all orders as to what she was to eat and what she was not to eat. She lived up to the full resources of her employers. She could be to the last degree slatternly. Or she could be as neat as a pin, with an apron that symbolized purity and propriety, as to-night. She could be idle during a whole day, accumulating dirty dishes from morn till eve. On the

nto their appointed positions with disdain; she made slightly too much noise; when she turned

s endowed Mr. and Mrs. Povey with all the treasures of the house at Axe. And it was as good as ever; better than ever. Dr. Stirling often expressed the desire for a corner cupboard like Mrs. Baines's corner cupboard. One item had been added: the 'Peel' compote which Matthew Peel-Swynnerton had noticed in the dining-room of the Pension Frensham. This majestic piece, which had been reserved by Sophia in the sale of the pension, stood alone

ve been possible. But there was no access to the upper floor except through the parlour. The parlour could not therefore be turned into a kitchen and the basement suppressed, and the ladies of the house could not live entirely on the upper floor. The disposition of the rooms had to remain exactly as it had always been. There was the same draught

ng sixty, with immense experience written on the fine hardness of her worn and distinguished face! Though her hair is not yet all grey, nor her figure bowed, you would imagine that she would, in her passage through the world, have learnt better than to expect a character to be consistent. But no! She was ever disappointed and hurt by Constance's inconsistency! And see Constance, stout and bowed, looking more than her age with hair nearly white and slightly trembling hands! See that face whose mark is meekness and the spirit of conciliation, the desire for peace-you would not think that that placid soul could, while submitting to it, inly rage against the imposed weight of Sophia's individuality. "Because I wouldn't turn out of my house to please her," Constance would say to herself, "she fancies she is entitled to do just as she likes." Not often did she secretly rebel thus, but it occurred sometimes. They never quarrelled. They would have regarded separation as a

o converse with negligent ease upon indifferent topics, as though nothing had occurred that day to mar the beauty of ideal relations between empl

u, Maud," said Sophia, as the

" replied Ma

and left th

fered from sheer, you

ough they felt that they had lived too long into an age of decadence and open shame. Constance's face showed despair-she might have bee

stepped to the door. "

ans

do you

ense was

no a

uts this door, or she leaves this house at

nt. The horror of existence closed in upon her. She could imagine nothing more appallin

he moment held the future of at least th

, "did you not h

om a book-doubtle

ma'

"I asked you to shut the parlour door, a

ld have trampled on the fragile and weak Sophia. But something in Sophia's gaze compelled her to obey. She flounced; she bridled

wed her up the steps. "Your young eyes may be very good now, but you are not going the

er. And as Maud clicked the door to, the sisters breathed relief. They

that they were at the end of their resources. The illness of Fossette, without anything else, had been more than enough to ruin their tranquillity. But the illness of Fossette was as nothing to the ingenious na

her think she can sp

ruly that woman's sp

cloth, and rubbed bits of fowl over the plates, and dirtied knives and forks. Then she put the slices of fowl and bread and toma

he rang the bell, a

d, Maud. You c

ory of the door, should incur new risks. She simply did without. On empty stomachs they tried pathetically to help each other in games of Patience. And when the blithe Maud passed through the parlour on the way to bed, she saw two dignified and apparently ca

g Harrop, had died a few years before at the age of over seventy, and the practice was much larger than it had ever been, even in the

all in," said Mrs.

had said to herself at the beginning of her sojourn in Bursley, and long afterwards, that she should never get accustomed to the exasperating provinciality of the town, exemplified by the childish preoccupation of the inhabitants with their own two-penny affairs. No characteristic of life in B

m to see whether the doctor's ca

she called ou

phia," said Constance. "I

to superintend the openi

radiant, acco

at dizziness was going on," sa

ce the first days of their acquaintanceship they had alw

arrived, with a telegram addressed to Mrs. Scale

to-day?" the doctor asked, w

f your society," said S

to the drawing-ro

indow. Then with a grunt: "Well, that's no use, anyway!" she went ups

she did. Nothing will convince me that she didn't poison that dog with the mice-poison we had last year. She was vexed because Sophia took her up sharply about Fossette last night, and she revenged herself on th

es suddenly fi

time, hadn't ye?" he

was to buy a fox-terrier, and ever since we've always had a fox-terrier in t

ed, I said to my wife I'd never have another dog-unless she coul

quite

oner the better. She went straight off to Oldcastle and bought me a spaniel pup, and

ed the tale of Spot's death from the beginning, and took it as far as his burial, that afternoon,

ong time. He was an old dog. Well, you've still g

s ill. The fact is that if Fossette hadn't been ill

ath. It seemed very hard to her that Fossette, whose life had once been despaired of, should continue to exist, while Spot, always healthy and uns

ll now!" she repeated,

lations of the sisters, and he changed the subject. One of his great qualities was that he refrained

that he'll be round in about an hour or so to take you for a spin. He was

said Constance. "But this

t. Splendid June weather. No dust after all that rain. It'll do ye all the good in the world. I must exe

" murmured Constance, not quite

a had, then, in a manner betrayed him. Constance and the doctor discussed that matter with frankness, the doctor humorously accusing her of being 'hard' on

e for ye, has Dick!

exist. However, when it had recovered from the shock of seeing Dick Povey's announcement of bargains in the Signal, the district most sensibly decided that there was no reason why Dick Povey should not sell bicycles as well as a man with normal parents. He was now supposed to be acquiring wealth rapidly. It was said that he was a marvellous chauffeur, at once daring and prudent. He had one day, several years previously, overtaken the sisters in the rural neighbourhood of Sneyd, where they h

latest, I suppose?" s

Sophia asked

ballooning. It seem

deprecating noi

ting on the music-stool, and saying to himself, behind his mask of effulgent good-nature: "I

Hanbridge. Bursley would die fighting. Both Constance and Sophia were bitter opponents of Federation. They would have been capable of putting Federationists to the torture. Sophia in particular, though so long absent from her native town, had adopted its cause with characteristic vigour. And when Dr. Stirling wished to practise his curative treatment of taking the sisters 'out of themselves,' he had only to start the hare of Federation and the hunt would be up in a moment. But this afternoon he did not succeed with Sophia, and only partially with

t the drawingroom door. It was Sophia who did the running about, owing to the state of Constance'

n approached Constance, holding out her h

that!"

ctant of new anxieties and troubles. Constance str

dangerously ill here.

hest

t was. Constance was astounded at her sister's self-control, which entirely passed her comprehension. Constance felt that worries would never cease, but would rather go on multiplying until death ended all. First, there had been the frightful worry of the servant; then the extremely distressing death and burial of Spot-and now it was Gerald Scales turning up again!

vanish never to be heard of again. The time surely arrives

inally and for ever. She had forgotten him. It was years since he had ceased to disturb her thoughts-many years. "He MUST be dead," she had persuaded herself. "It is inconce

e, and more than my share!" The end of her life promised to be as awful as the beginning. The mere existence of Gerald Scales was a menace to her. But it was the simple impact of the blow that affected her supremely, beyond ulterior things. One might have pictured fate as a cowardly brute who had st

tance moaned. "Wha

a disgusted air. Under th

again like a bad penny, doubtless a disgrace! What had he been doing in those thirty-six years? He w

g them. As she collected her wits from the stroke, she was princi

Constance asked. Co

foot, glancing o

o see him?" Con

" said Soph

n to go. Why should she go? Gerald was nothing to her, and had no claim on her of any kind. This she hones

emanded

ia n

of the journey to Manchester put Constance out of her wits,

ike me to co

must go

in the house alone, and the idea of shutting up the house without n

ct they both desce

the stairs. She wiped her eyes resolutely. "I wonder whatever in this world ha

t he was hammering at the door in his lively style. There was no avoiding him. The door had to be opened. Sophia opened it. Dick Povey was over forty, but he looked considerably younger. Despite his

ce behind Sophia; he often so addressed them. "Has Dr. Stirling w

ed a young wo

confused and blushing, obeyed. "This is Miss Lily Holl," he went on. "I don't know whether you would remember her. I don't think you do. It's not often she

entry into the large realms of mutual love. But the sisters, even in their painful quandary, could not help noticing what a nice, quiet, ladylike girl Li

ophia. "I've got to go to Manches

rouble," Constan

the egotism of their happiness had blinded them. They felt that long, long years had

orry to hear th

e trains to Manches

ve you there quicker than any train, if

e," Sophi

ourself in my hands; I'll guarantee at Deansgate you

ut

I'm quite free for the

ed in low, solemn tones. The pair were waiting to be enlightened as to the nature of the trouble; Constance, however, did not enlighten them. How could Constance say to them: "Sophia has a hus

I

e!" he said, not without pride. "Now, we'll come back in about a couple of hours or so, just to take your orders, wh

es near Manchester, by selling silver-ware second-hand, or nominally second hand, to persons who wished to make presents to other persons or to themselves. He would send anything by post on approval. Occasionally he came to the Five Towns, and he had once, several years before, met Constan

her antiquities. The front of the counter was also glazed, showing vases and large pieces of porcelain. A few pictures in heavy gold frames were perched about. There was a case of umbrellas with elaborate handles and rich tassels. There were a couple of statuettes. The counter, on the customers' side, e

her parasol dangerously among such fragility and pointing

t, m

es

-five p

with more gold watches, adding to the extraordinary glitter an

ng I can recommend,"

kburn. I can guarantee

ere the accredited repr

calm and absol

t that she was among honest men. The young man raised his

oldero?" she ask

anged instantly to a sy

ssed in blue broad-cloth, with a turned-down collar and a small black tie. His waistcoat displayed a plain but heavy gold watch-chain, and his cuff-links were of plain gold. His eye-glasses were gold-rimmed. He had grey

which he then took off, holding them up in the ai

y." He took her hand, squeezing it commiseratingly, and drew her into the sanctum. "I didn't expect

a exp

a sort of parlour, and asked her to sit down. And he

you, Mrs. Scales," he said, stil

ad?" Sop

that he had passed away before I telegraphed. It all happe

, though it resembled grief. And she had also a feeling that she was responsible to Mr.

recollection goes. He asked me if I was the son of Mr. Till Boldero that had this shop in 1866. I said I was. 'Well,' he says, 'you're the only connection I've got. My name's Gerald Scales. My mother was your father's cousin. Can you do anything for me?' he says. I could see he was ill. I

?" Sophia as

e enigmatic. "Exhaustion

Sophia, lifting her ey

ro. "I suppose you wo

said

for a long time, you

mured, symp

'seventy,"

cales. Not since 'seventy!" He sighed. "You must take it as well as you can. I'm not one as t

into Soph

said. "You mu

tefully. "You were very good to take him in.

d man at that! … Oh, to think that if he'd only managed to please his uncle he might ha' been one of t

sat silent

will you wait a bit?" a

I'm sorry as my wif

id Sophia, firmly.

a door ajar. He pushed the door open. "I'll leave you for a moment," he said, always in the same very restrai

t he was old; she had said to herself that he must be very old, well over seventy. But she had not pictured him. This face on the bed was painfully, pitiably old. A withered face, with the shiny skin all drawn into wrinkles! The stretched skin under the jaw was like the skin of a plucked fowl. The cheek-bones stood up, and below them were deep hollows, almost like egg-cups. A short, scraggy white beard covered the lower part of the face. The hair was scanty, irregular, and quite white; a little white hair grew in the ears. The shut mouth obviousl

us rascal; but how trivial were such accusations against him! The whole of her huge and bitter grievance against him fell to pieces and crumbled. She saw him young, and proud, and strong, as for instance when he had kissed her lying on the bed in that London hotel-she forgot the name-in 1866; and now he was old, and worn, and horrible, and dead. It was the riddle of life that was puzzling and killing her. By the corner of her eye, reflected in the mirror of a wardrobe near the bed, she glimpsed a tall, forlorn wo

t his lecherous arm round her. She was as old now as Niepce had been then. Could she excite lust now? Ah! the irony of such a question! To be young and seductive, to be able to kindle a man's eye-that

. All that she had previously suffered sank int

lted and rattled; the people of Manchester hurried along the pavements, apparently unconscious that all their doings were vain. Yesterday he too had be

dead. I have been through too much. It is monstrous, and I c

iscreet knock

ice. The sound had recalled her with the swiftness of

Boldero

as a marvel of tact and good nature. "My wife is unfortunately not here, and

irs into the parlour. He

said. "I am forbidden

longed for tea. An occasional transgression cou

at can I

ust milk and water

up into the slop basin, a

ing?" she asked, after

ing except that he had come from Liverpool. Judging from his

murmured Sop

straits. You know, he could scarcely talk at all. By th

ned her. The linen collar was nearly black, its stud of bone. As for the boots, she had noticed such boots on the feet of

nything, of cour

In the pockets there was

ece and picked up a che

n it were a visiting c

of the Hotel of the Hol

of which a lot of fig

aid Mr. Boldero, "that

ric

ing e

thi

compelled to abandon much

ing for her outside in the motor-car. Sophia glanced at

ct me to go back with t

all there i

e your wishes about the funeral. I will arrange everything. Go back to your sister to-night. She w

yiel

them nothing of the nature of her mission. She was incapable of talking to them. They saw that she was in a condition of serious mental disturbance. Under cover of the noise of the car, Lily said to Dick that she was sure Mrs. Scales was ill, and Dick, putt

en there is no night-only daylight and twilight; when the last silver of dusk remains obstinately visible for hours. And in the open country, under the melancho

ot down again. They were two miles Astbury, the nearest village. He had just, with the resignation of experience, reached f

momentarily to the tone of alarm and consternation, and then grew firm again.

said Dick, briefly, when all t

shall

must get her over to this side, and you must hold her.

l-bag into its box. Lil

opened the door before the car came to a stop in the gloom of King Street. The young people considered that she bore the shock well, though th

said curtly: "I'm off.

you going?"

Dick, hobbling rap

ot met till that day, were staring at Sophia side by side, intimately sharing the same alarm. Constance rose to the crisis. She no longer had Sophia's energy and decisive peremptoriness to depend on, and the Baines in her was awakened. All her daily troubles sank away to their proper scale of unimportance. Neither the young woman nor the old one knew what to do. They could loosen clothes, vainly offer restoratives to the smitten mouth: that was all. Sophia was not unconscious, as could be judged from her e

urred. Nobody could tell him anything. Constance had already confided to Lily Holl the reason of the visit to Manchester; but that was the extent of her knowledge. Not a single person in Bursley, except Sophia, knew what had happened in Manchester. But Constance conjectured that Geral

nce gave him a second-hand account of Sophia's original attack in Paris, roughly as she had heard it from Sophia. He at once said that it could not have been what the French doctor had said it was. Constance shrugged her shoulders. She was not surprised. For her there was necessarily something of the charlatan about a French doctor. She said she only knew what Sophia had told her. After a time Dr. Stirling determined to try electricity, and Dick Povey drove him up to the surgery to fetch his apparatus. The women were left alone again. Constance was very deeply impressed by Lily Holl's sensible, sympathetic attitude. "Whatever I should have done without Miss Lily I don't know!" she used to exclaim afterwards. Even Maud was beyond praise. It seemed to be the middle of the night when Dr. Stirling came back, but it was barely eleven o'clock, and people were only just returning from Hanbridge Theatre and Hanbridge Music Hall. The use of

ia's case. New symptoms followed. It was half-past twelve when, after gazing with prolonged intensit

r?" said

en should be led away, the doctor observed this classic rule, and Constance felt that he was right and that she must obey. Lily Holl followed. The servant, learning the truth by the intuition accorded to primitive natures, burst into loud sobs, yelling that Sophia had been the most excellent mistress that servant ever had. The doctor angrily told her not to stand blubbering there, but to go into her kitchen and shut the

et to Constance her face and attitude had the exquisite quality of a child's. She was not precisely a pretty girl, but her features, the candid expression of her disposition, produced an impression that was akin to that of beauty. Her abandonment was complete. She had gone through the night unscathed, and was now renewing herself in calm, oblivious sleep. Her i

y been to their owner? She saw pictures of Sophia's career, distorted and grotesque images formed in her untravelled mind from Sophia's own rare and compressed recitals. What a career! A brief passion, and then nearly thirty years in a boarding-house! And Sophia had never had a child; had never known either the joy or the pain of maternity. She had never even had a true home till, in all her sterile splendour, she came to Bursley. And she had ended-thus! This was the piteous, ignominious end of Sophia's wondrous gifts of body and soul. Hers had not been a life at all. And the reason? It is strange how fate persists in justifying t

rn skin-she did not seem sixty, but seventy! She was like something used, exhausted, and thrown aside! Yes, Constance's heart melted in an anguished pity for that stormy creature. And mingled with the pity was a stern recognition of the handiwork of divine justice. To Constance's lips came the same phrase as had come to the lips of Samuel Povey on a different occasion: God is not mocked! The ideas of her parents and

nd comprehending woman, stepped quietly into the room, search

to bed. Cyril was telegraphed for. Mr. Critchlow called, Mrs. Critchlow following-a fussy infliction, but useful in certain matters. Mr. Critchlow was not allowed to see Constance. She could hear his high grating voice in the corridor. She had to lie calm, and the sudd

hful rumours had spread as to the manner of Gerald Scales's death. Some said that he had dramatically committed suicide. But the town, though titillated, was not moved

that there appeared to him to be no difficulties. Whereas Constance had figured a tiresome series of varied complications. As to the burial of Sophia, Cyril was vigorously in favour of an absolutely private funeral; that is to say, a funeral at which none but himself should be present. He seemed to have a passionate objection to any sort of parade. Constance agreed with him. But she said that it would be impossible not to invite Mr. Critchlow, Sophia's trustee, and that if Mr. Critchlow were invited certain others must be invited. Cyril asked: "Why impossible?" Constance said: "Because it would be impossible. Because Mr. Critchlow would be hurt." Cyril asked: "What does it matter if he is hurt?" a

down into a dilletante, having learnt gently to scorn the triumphs which he lacked the force to win. He imagined that industry and a regular existence were sufficient justification in themselves for any man's life. Constance had dropped the habit of expecting him to astound the world. He was rather grave and

looked, to him, as if the wind might blow it over, thus negativing the idea of solidity. His mother did not in the least understand him. She thought the letterin

tchlow, aged and unaccustomed to interference, had to render accounts of his trusteeship to this young man, and was incensed. The estate was proved at over thirty-five thousand pounds. In the main, Sophia had been careful, and had even been parsimonious. She had often told Constance that they ought to spend money

ley, he might have affected a little satisfaction. His mother was somewhat hurt. His behaviour caused her to revert in meditation again and again to the futility of Sophia's career, and the waste of her attributes. She had grown old and hard in joyless years in order to amass this money which Cyril would spend coldly and ungratefully, never thinking of the immense effort and endless sacrifice whic

and which could not be postponed, as it comprised 'business.' He had hitherto breathed no word of this. He was as secretive as ever. As to her holiday, he suggested that she should arrange to go away with the Holls and Dick Povey. He approved of Lily Holl an

phia was here at this table!" She would remember every now and the