Luck was with him at first and he forced the defence with ridiculous ease.
"Lady Harman, sir, is not a Tome," said Snagsby.
"Ah!" said Mr. Brumley, with all the assurance of a former proprietor2, "then I'll just have a look round the garden," and was through the green door in the wall and round the barn end before Snagsby's mind could function. That unfortunate man went as far as the green door in pursuit and then with a gesture of despair retreated to the pantry and began cleaning all his silver to calm his agonized3 spirit. He could pretend perhaps that Mr. Brumley had never rung at the front door at all. If not——
Moreover Mr. Brumley had the good fortune to find Lady Harman quite unattended and pensive4 upon the little seat that Euphemia had placed for the better seeing of her herbaceous borders.
"Lady Harman!" he said rather breathlessly, taking both her hands with an unwonted assurance and then sitting down beside her, "I am so glad to see you. I came down to see you—to see if I couldn't be of any service to you."
"It's so kind of you to come," she said, and her dark eyes said as much or more. She glanced round and he too glanced round for Sir Isaac.
"You see," he said. "I don't know.... I don't want to be impertinent.... But I feel—if I can be of any service to you.... I feel perhaps you want help here. I don't want to seem to be taking advantage of a situation. Or making unwarrantable assumptions. But I want to assure you—I would willingly die—if only I could do anything.... Ever since I first saw you."
He said all this in a distracted way, with his eyes going about the garden for the possible apparition5 of Sir Isaac, and all the time his sense of possible observers made him assume an attitude as though he was engaged in the smallest of small talk. Her colour quickened at the import of his words, and emotion, very rich and abundant emotion, its various factors not altogether untouched perhaps by the spirit of laughter, lit her eyes. She doubted a little what he was saying and yet she had anticipated that somehow, some day, in quite other circumstances, Mr. Brumley might break into some such strain.
"You see," he went on with a quality of appeal in his eyes, "there's so little time to say things—without possible interruption. I feel you are in difficulties and I want to make you understand——We——Every beautiful woman, I suppose, has a sort of right to a certain sort of man. I want to tell you—I'm not really presuming to make love to you—but I want to tell you I am altogether yours, altogether at your service. I've had sleepless6 nights. All this time I've been thinking about you. I'm quite clear, I haven't a doubt, I'll do anything for you, without reward, without return, I'll be your devoted7 brother, anything, if only you'll make use of me...."
Her colour quickened. She looked around and still no one appeared. "It's so kind of you to come like this," she said. "You say things—But I have felt that you wanted to be brotherly...."
"Whatever I can be," assured Mr. Brumley.
"My situation here," she said, her dark frankness of gaze meeting his troubled eyes. "It's so strange and difficult. I don't know what to do. I don't know—what I want to do...."
"In London," said Mr. Brumley, "they think—they say—you have been taken off—brought down here—to a sort of captivity8."
"I have," admitted Lady Harman with a note of recalled astonishment9 in her voice.
"If I can help you to escape——!"
"But where can I escape?"
And one must admit that it is a little difficult to indicate a correct refuge for a lady who finds her home intolerable. Of course there was Mrs. Sawbridge, but Lady Harman felt that her mother's disposition10 to lock herself into her bedroom at the slightest provocation11 made her a weak support for a defensive12 fight, and in addition that boarding-house at Bournemouth did not attract her. Yet what other wall in all the world was there for Lady Harman to set her back against? During the last few days Mr. Brumley's mind had been busy with the details of impassioned elopements conducted in the most exalted13 spirit, but now in the actual presence of the lady these projects did in the most remarkable14 manner vanish.
"Couldn't you," he said at last, "go somewhere?" And then with an air of being meticulously15 explicit16, "I mean, isn't there somewhere, where you might safely go?"
(And in his dreams he had been crossing high passes with her; he had halted suddenly and stayed her mule17. In his dream because he was a man of letters and a poet it was always a mule, never a train de luxe. "Look," he had said, "below there,—Italy!—the country you have never seen before.")
"There's nowhere," she answered.
"Now where?" asked Mr. Brumley, "and how?" with the tone and something of the gesture of one who racks his mind. "If you only trust yourself to me——Oh! Lady Harman, if I dared ask it——"
He became aware of Sir Isaac walking across the lawn towards them....
The two men greeted each other with a reasonable cordiality. "I wanted to see how you were getting on down here," said Mr. Brumley, "and whether there was anything I could do for you."
"You've altered the old barn—tremendously."
"Come and see it," said Sir Isaac. "It's a wing."
Mr. Brumley remained seated. "It was the first thing that struck me, Lady Harman. This evidence of Sir Isaac's energy."
"Come and look over it," Sir Isaac persisted.
Mr. Brumley and Lady Harman rose together.
"One's enough to show him that," said Sir Isaac.
"I was telling Lady Harman how much we missed her at Lady Viping's, Sir Isaac."
"It was on account of the drains," Sir Isaac explained. "You can't—it's foolhardy to stay a day when the drains are wrong, dinners or no dinners."
"You know I was extremely sorry not to come to Lady Viping's. I hope you'll tell her. I wrote."
But Mr. Brumley didn't remember clearly enough to make any use of that.
"Everybody naturally is sorry on an occasion of that sort," said Sir Isaac. "But you come and see what we've done in that barn. In three weeks. They couldn't have got it together in three months ten years ago. It's—system."
Mr. Brumley still tried to cling to Lady Harman.
"Have you been interested in this building?" he asked.
"I still don't understand the system of the corridor," she said, rising a little belatedly to the occasion. "I will come."
Sir Isaac regarded her for a moment with a dubious19 expression and then began to explain the new method of building with large prepared units and shaped pieces of reinforced concrete instead of separate bricks that Messrs. Prothero & Cuthbertson had organized and which had enabled him to create this artistic20 corridor so simply. It was a rather uncomfortable three-cornered conversation. Sir Isaac addressed his exposition exclusively to Mr. Brumley and Mr. Brumley made repeated ineffectual attempts to bring Lady Harman, and Lady Harman made repeated ineffectual attempts to bring herself, into a position in the conversation.
Their eyes met, the glow of Mr. Brumley's declarations remained with them, but neither dared risk any phrase that might arouse Sir Isaac's suspicions or escape his acuteness. And when they had gone through the new additions pretty thoroughly21—the plumbers22 were still busy with the barn bathroom—Sir Isaac asked Mr. Brumley if there was anything more he would like to see. In the slight pause that ensued Lady Harman suggested tea. But tea gave them no opportunity of resuming their interrupted conversation, and as Sir Isaac's invincible23 determination to shadow his visitor until he was well off the premises24 became more and more unmistakable,—he made it quite ungraciously unmistakable,—Mr. Brumley's inventiveness failed. One thing came to him suddenly, but it led to nothing of any service to him.
"But I heard you were dangerously ill, Lady Harman!" he cried. "Lady Beach-Mandarin called here——"
"But when?" asked Lady Harman, astonished over the tea-things.
"I've not been ill at all!"
"Sir Isaac told her."
"Told her I was ill!"
"Dangerously ill. That you couldn't bear to be disturbed."
"But when, Mr. Brumley?"
"Three days ago."
They both looked at Sir Isaac who was sitting on the music stool and eating a piece of tea-cake with a preoccupied26 air. He swallowed and then spoke27 thoughtfully—in a tone of detached observation. Nothing but a slight reddening of the eyes betrayed any unusual feeling in him.
"It's my opinion," he said, "that that old lady—Lady Beach-Mandarin I mean—doesn't know what she's saying half the time. She says—oh! remarkable things. Saying that for example!"
"But did she call on me?"
"She called. I'm surprised you didn't hear. And she was all in a flurry for going on.... Did you come down, Mr. Brumley, to see if Lady Harman was ill?"
"That weighed with me."
"Good-bye!" cried Mr. Brumley with excessive amiability30.
Sir Isaac with soundless lips made a good-bye like gesture.
"And now," said Sir Isaac to himself with extreme bitterness, "now to see about getting a dog."
"Bull mastiff?" said Sir Isaac developing his idea as he went back to Lady Harman. "Or perhaps a Thoroughly Vicious collie?"
"How did that chap get in?" he demanded. "What had he got to say to you?"
"He came in—to look at the garden," said Lady Harman. "And of course he wanted to know if I had been well—because of Lady Viping's party. And I suppose because of what you told Lady Beach-Mandarin."
Sir Isaac grunted31 doubtfully. He thought of Snagsby and of all the instructions he had given Snagsby. He turned about and went off swiftly and earnestly to find Snagsby....
Snagsby lied. But Sir Isaac was able to tell from the agitated32 way in which he was cleaning his perfectly33 clean silver at that unseasonable hour that the wretched man was lying.
8
Quite a number of words came to the lips of Mr. Brumley as he went unwillingly34 along the pleasant country road that led from Black Strand to the railway station. But the word he ultimately said showed how strongly the habits of the gentlemanly littérateur prevailed in him. It was the one inevitable35 word for his mood,—"Baffled!"
Close upon its utterance36 came the weak irritation37 of the impotent man. "What the devil?" cried Mr. Brumley.
Some critical spirit within him asked him urgently why he was going to the station, what he thought he was doing, what he thought he had done, and what he thought he was going to do. To all of which questions Mr. Brumley perceived he had no adequate reply.
Earlier in the day he had been inspired by a vague yet splendid dream of large masterful liberations achieved. He had intended to be very disinterested38, very noble, very firm, and so far as Sir Isaac was concerned, a trifle overbearing. You know now what he said and did. "Of course if we could have talked for a little longer," he said. From the stormy dissatisfaction of his retreat this one small idea crystallized, that he had not talked enough without disturbance39 to Lady Harman. The thing he had to do was to talk to her some more. To go on with what he had been saying. That thought arrested his steps. On that hypothesis there was no reason whatever why he should go on to the station and London. Instead——He stopped short, saw a convenient gate ahead, went to it, seated himself upon its topmost rail and attempted a calm survey of the situation. He had somehow to continue that conversation with Lady Harman.
Was it impossible to do that by going back to the front door of Black Strand? His instinct was against that course. He knew that if he went back now openly he would see nobody but Sir Isaac or his butler. He must therefore not go back openly. He must go round now and into the pine-woods at the back of Black Strand; thence he must watch the garden and find his opportunity of speaking to the imprisoned40 lady. There was something at once attractively romantic and repellently youthful about this course of action. Mr. Brumley looked at his watch, then he surveyed the blue clear sky overhead, with just one warm tinted41 wisp of cloud. It would be dark in an hour and it was probable that Lady Harman had already gone indoors for the day. Might it be possible after dark to approach the house? No one surely knew the garden so well as he.
Of course this sort of thing is always going on in romances; in the stories of that last great survivor42 of the Stevensonian tradition, H.B. Marriot Watson, the heroes are always creeping through woods, tapping at windows, and scaling house-walls, but Mr. Brumley as he sat on his gate became very sensible of his own extreme inexperience in such adventures. And yet anything seemed in his present mood better than going back to London.
Suppose he tried his luck!
He knew of course the lie of the land about Black Strand very well indeed and his harmless literary social standing43 gave him a certain freedom of trespass44. He dropped from his gate on the inner side and taking a bridle45 path through a pine-wood was presently out upon the moorland behind his former home. He struck the high-road that led past the Staminal Bread Board and was just about to clamber over the barbed wire on his left and make his way through the trees to the crest46 that commanded the Black Strand garden when he perceived a man in a velveteen coat and gaiters strolling towards him. He decided47 not to leave the road until he was free from observation. The man was a stranger, an almost conventional gamekeeper, and he endorsed48 Mr. Brumley's remark upon the charmingness of the day with guarded want of enthusiasm. Mr. Brumley went on for some few minutes, then halted, assured himself that the stranger was well out of sight and returned at once towards the point where high-roads were to be left and adventure begun. But he was still some yards away when he became aware of that velveteen-coated figure approaching again. "Damn!" said Mr. Brumley and slacked his eager paces. This time he expressed a view that the weather was extremely mild. "Very," said the man in velveteen with a certain lack of respect in his manner.
It was no good turning back again. Mr. Brumley went on slowly, affected to botanize, watched the man out of sight and immediately made a dash for the pine-woods, taking the barbed wire in a manner extremely detrimental49 to his left trouser leg. He made his way obliquely50 up through the trees to the crest from which he had so often surveyed the shining ponds of Aleham. There he paused to peer back for that gamekeeper—whom he supposed in spite of reason to be stalking him—to recover his breath and to consider his further plans. The sunset was very fine that night, a great red sun was sinking towards acutely outlined hill-crests, the lower nearer distances were veiled in lavender mists and three of the ponds shone like the fragments of a shattered pink topaz. But Mr. Brumley had no eye for landscape....
About two hours after nightfall Mr. Brumley reached the railway station. His trousers and the elbow of his coat bore witness to a second transit51 of the barbed-wire fence in the darkness, he had manifestly walked into a boggy52 place and had some difficulty in recovering firm ground and he had also been sliding in a recumbent position down a bank of moist ferruginous sand. Moreover he had cut the palm of his left hand. There was a new strange stationmaster who regarded him without that respect to which he had grown accustomed. He received the information that the winter train service had been altered and that he would have to wait forty-five minutes for the next train to London with the resignation of a man already chastened by misfortune and fatigue53. He went into the waiting-room and after a vain search for the poker—the new stationmaster evidently kept it in a different place—sat down in front of an irritatingly dull fire banked up with slack, and nursed his damaged hand and meditated54 on his future plans.
His plans were still exactly in the state in which they had been when Sir Isaac parted from him at the gate of Black Strand. They remained in the same state for two whole days. Throughout all that distressing55 period his general intention of some magnificent intervention56 on behalf of Lady Harman remained unchanged, it produced a number of moving visions of flights at incredible speeds in (recklessly hired) motor-cars of colossal57 power,—most of the purchase money for Black Strand was still uninvested at his bank—of impassioned interviews with various people, of a divorce court with a hardened judge congratulating the manifestly quite formal co-respondent on the moral beauty of his behaviour, but it evolved no sort of concrete practicable detail upon which any kind of action might be taken. And during this period of indecision Mr. Brumley was hunted through London by a feverish58 unrest. When he was in his little flat in Pont Street he was urged to go to his club, when he got to his club he was urged to go anywhere else, he called on the most improbable people and as soon as possible fled forth59 again, he even went to the British Museum and ordered out a lot of books on matrimonial law. Long before that great machine had disgorged them for him he absconded60 and this neglected, this widowed pile of volumes still standing to his account only came back to his mind in the middle of the night suddenly and disturbingly while he was trying to remember the exact words he had used in his brief conversation with Lady Harman....
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1
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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13
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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14
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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meticulously
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| adv.过细地，异常细致地；无微不至；精心 | |
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16
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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18
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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19
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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plumbers
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| n.管子工，水暖工( plumber的名词复数 )；[美][口]（防止泄密的）堵漏人员 | |
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23
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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27
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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28
crumb
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| n.饼屑，面包屑，小量 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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31
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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32
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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38
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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39
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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40
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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42
survivor
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| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
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43
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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44
trespass
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| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
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45
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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46
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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47
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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48
endorsed
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| vt.& vi.endorse的过去式或过去分词形式v.赞同( endorse的过去式和过去分词 )；在（尤指支票的）背面签字；在（文件的）背面写评论；在广告上说本人使用并赞同某产品 | |
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49
detrimental
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| adj.损害的，造成伤害的 | |
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50
obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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51
transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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52
boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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54
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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55
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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56
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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57
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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59
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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absconded
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| v.（尤指逃避逮捕）潜逃，逃跑( abscond的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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