The Mayor of Warwick Part 26

Leigh stared incredulously. "Discipline?" he echoed.

"Disorder in your cla.s.s-room," Dr. Renshaw corroborated firmly. "Those pa.s.sing by have heard laughter and unseemly shouts from within."

"Who could have made such a report?" Leigh wondered, still at a loss.

"The information came through a responsible channel, through one whose duty it is to take cognisance of such things and to report them to the proper authorities."

He was surprised to see that his listener was laughing, not without a suggestion of scornfulness. "I 've heard the same unseemly shouts myself, Dr. Renshaw. They come from cla.s.s meetings and athletic meetings that are held in my room nearly every day, when the place is not being used for recitations. There is n't a word of truth in the charge against me."

Dr. Renshaw's face clouded, and he cleared his throat uneasily. "Mr.

Leigh," he said with dignity, "I told you that the complaint would fail to sum up the whole situation. We may say _Quaestio cadit_ in regard to that, if you like. Let us look at it in another light, in the light of the best interests of the Hall and of yourself. There is a question of general fitness which implies no criticism upon yourself, upon your scholars.h.i.+p or character. We are a h.o.m.ogeneous community here, we understand each other and cherish the ideals which this college was built to inculcate. You are a product of an entirely different tradition. You were educated, and have previously taught, in a large university, and this makes it difficult, perhaps impossible, for you to appreciate the needs and the point of view of the small college. The ideal of the professor in a university is self-improvement and personal achievement; but in the small college, the teacher is expected to give, above everything else, personal service and devotion to the interests of his students. He should stand to a large extent _sancti parentis loco_. I do not say that you have consciously failed to improve this opportunity of service; I would say rather that, because of your previous academic experiences, you have failed to see it. The conviction has therefore been forced upon us, in spite of our personal regard for you and our appreciation of your attainments, that you would be happier and more useful in a larger inst.i.tution, where the point of contact begins and ends in the cla.s.s-room. In short, I believe you will agree with us that the experiment has not been altogether a success from this point of view. I accept your explanation of the specific charge gladly, and congratulate you upon correcting an impression that did you injustice."

It was Leigh's first meeting in his professional life with that malign experience, injustice in the garb of plausibility, from which there is no appeal. He could not bring himself to acquiesce in silence, though he knew that explanation and protest were vain.

"Dr. Renshaw," he rejoined, in a voice that showed his deep chagrin and sense of wrong, "the proved falsity of the first charge throws suspicion on the second, which is, after all, mainly a conjecture as to my state of mind in regard to St. George's Hall. I must plead guilty to the sin of personal ambition; but how can you expect a man to become entirely identified with the spirit of a place in a few months? It is evident to me that there are certain men who wish me gone, for reasons best known to themselves, and that they have trumped up these absurd charges." He flung himself to his feet indignantly. "This merely ill.u.s.trates how easy it is to find plausible complaints against any man, and also that even-handed justice is the last thing one should look for in the world."

The president rose also. They were standing almost in darkness, but the afterglow of the sunset, streaming through the western windows and an intervening door, illumined the old man's face. His expression was one of concern, tempered by an humorous appreciation of the youthfulness of Leigh's last remark.

"Young man," he said, putting his hand on Leigh's shoulder, much as if he were admonis.h.i.+ng a student, "I beg you not to allow this experience to colour your views with cynicism, for cynicism hurts only the cynic, and fails to take account of all the facts of life. As you have intimated, even-handed justice, inasmuch as it implies omniscience, is an attribute of G.o.d alone, but we have not been consciously unjust to you, according to our light. Personally I regret your departure, and I wish to a.s.sure you of my confidence in your future. You will doubtless one day look back upon this apparent contretemps as a blessing in disguise."

Leigh was far from being mollified by this plat.i.tudinous commiseration, though he credited the kindness of heart that gave it birth; and he took leave of the president without further remark. Then he went out into the twilight, more deeply humiliated than ever before in his life.

His loss of Felicity had been sweetened by love's triumph. There was in it the sustaining exaltation of tragedy, and a lingering ray of unreasonable hope; but this reverse was harder to bear, in that he suffered injustice without the possibility of appeal, and was deprived of professional importance in the eyes of the woman he loved, of the position which, slight as it must seem to her, was yet all he had to offset her wealth and social consequence.

There are times when even the stoutest hearts are appalled by the cruel handicap of poverty, when they are tempted to throw over their ideal, to rush into the market-place and make money by fair means or foul, that they may return and shake it in the faces of their foes. Leigh knew well that the possession of means would have made him immune from this attack, would have won him consideration instead of contumely, compliments instead of complaints. The Roman satirist, eating out his soul with bitterness against the insolence of wealth, said that poverty's greatest bane was the fact that it made men ridiculous. He was speaking, to be sure, of clothes; but what could be more ridiculous than an a.s.sumption of equality, based upon equal education and breeding, between the poor and the rich?

The young mathematician had not yet established a commanding professional reputation. He had given up a position which was now filled by one of the fifty applicants that had rushed to seize it; his present position at St. George's, he knew, could be filled as easily.

He had not the consolation of knowing himself to be valuable to the inst.i.tution. No one would rise up indignantly and take his part; no one would care what became of him, except Felicity, and pride alone would keep him from appealing to her.

He looked up at the great towers, b.u.t.tressed by deep shadows, as if he bade them farewell. Already they seemed to take on a strange and unfriendly aspect. This ma.s.s of masonry had expressed hostility to him on that September morning, he had read a warning in each impa.s.sive or grinning gargoyle, and now, as he pa.s.sed by, he could almost imagine that they gave sibilant expression to their accomplished malice. He realised how completely he had forgotten that first impression and allowed his imagination to be captured by the place. Where now were the dreams in which he had lately begun to indulge, visions of the finished square, of turret and gable and tower, of gothic gateways, of foliated chapel windows glimmering high in the darkened wall at evening?

Like one stunned by an unexpected blow, he continued his walk, until he came to Birdseye Avenue and paused in front of the bishop's house. Did he really intend to keep his promise never to see Felicity again? It so, why was he even now measuring the distance between himself and those lighted windows? Perhaps some chance would yet throw her in his way; but he would not risk her contempt by following the prompting of his heart and presenting himself before her only three days after his expressed renunciation. Besides, the bishop might be there; and what had he discovered since they last met? His consciousness of wrong-doing in regard to Felicity deprived him of the desire to meet the bishop face to face and to demand an explanation. Was there not, after all, reason enough for the bishop's action, if he knew all? This thought robbed Leigh of the satisfaction of a righteous indignation, which until now he had cherished as justifiable. He was fair enough to admit that he had received what he deserved, on other than professional grounds, and having reached the lowest depth of unhappiness, he began to retrace his steps disconsolately toward the college.

A philosopher once said that every man has in him at least one poem which he could write under the stress of great emotion, and that night Leigh unconsciously exemplified the truth of the saying. It was near the dawn when he descended from the tower, having left upon the table by the telescope this fragmentary record of his vigil.

THE MORNING WATCH

Be resolute, my soul, And battle till the day, My strength is manifold, If only thou art gay; Since friends.h.i.+p takes its flight, Since love is far outgrown, Here, in the silent night, I watch alone.

And sing a song, my soul, A bitter song and bright, While fleeting hours unroll The enigmatic night; The saddest souls must sing-- Ah, happy those that weep!

So laugh, till death shall bring Unending sleep.

Now let me lie in peace On Nature's pa.s.sive breast.

Since human love must cease, And life is all unblest, And watch the stars outspread Within the br.i.m.m.i.n.g blue-- But Abraham is dead Who saw them too.

And millions, ages hence, Shall watch the steady stars, And question Why and Whence Behind their prison bars; But if no love shall give A light upon the way, How can they dare to live Until the day?

CHAPTER XVIII

"TWO SISTER VESSELS"

The January thaw now took on a sinister and unwholesome phase, preparatory to its final retreat before the onslaught of returning winter. The heavy snowfall was reduced to a few discoloured streaks lingering in the deeper ruts and hollows, and the brown earth, never so unlovely, exhaled faint wreaths of vapour that caused old-fas.h.i.+oned folk to shake their heads and to speak of full graveyards. The sun seemed to draw up in the form of mist more and more of the water that had been soaking into the soil. People moved about in a dank haze, that rose gradually to the tops of the houses, until by noontime it had obscured the moist blue sky and turned the sun into a dull-red disk set in a golden aura. There was something ominous in the strange atmosphere thus engendered, in the dimming and distorting of architectural lines, in the m.u.f.fling of familiar sounds. The unseasonable conditions resembled in some way what in other climates is called earthquake weather, when Nature seems to be throwing a veil over the world to hide the monstrous deed she is about to commit.

Those whose lives were happy, drawing their breath with a sense of oppression, imagined impending trouble, while those with real tragedies to bear now found them almost insupportable.

Early in the day, St. George's Hall looked down from its lofty ridge upon basins of mist that presented the appearance of white lakes in the meadows below. Gradually the tide rose above the long, low hall, until the towers seemed to rest on clouds. Finally the whole ma.s.s disappeared, to loom up larger than reality to the eyes of one approaching from the city. As night came on, the lights from the windows cut lurid pathways into the surrounding obscurity. A gradual chill crept along the ground, thinning the fog and disclosing at intervals ghostly glimmerings of the moon.

Through this strange medium two figures were toiling up the street that flanked the northern limit of the campus. Under normal conditions, the second could easily have seen the one in advance, but now his view was obstructed, and though he gained rapidly, he had reached the entrance of the maple walk before the mist in front of him seemed to concentrate into a flitting shadow that resembled a woman's form. The young astronomer had been wandering for hours in a vain search for diversion, and the vision before him, embodying as it did the subject upon which his mind had been concentrated, caused him to stand still in a tumult of emotion. The next moment it was gone, and he believed that he had been visited by an hallucination. Recently, that earlier picture of Felicity beside the lamp had given place in his imagination to one a.s.sociated with a deeper experience. He had just pictured her in her scarlet cloak and hood; then he had looked up to see the same figure vanis.h.i.+ng before his eyes.

A moment's reflection convinced him of the psychic nature of the phenomenon. In all the range of human probabilities, what errand could lead her at ten o'clock on such a night to that lonely hilltop, and on down the road into the country beyond? It was manifest that his own mind had shaped the vision from the pale vapours, and he realised how weary and overwrought he had become. His sensation was now almost one of fear, as if he had seen the ghost of a loved one rising out of the mists of a remote and pa.s.sionate past. A strange impulse seized him to follow the phantom further, but he was s.h.i.+vering with the penetrating dampness to which he had been long exposed, and instead he continued his way toward his room.

Had he obeyed his impulse, he would soon have overtaken the living form which he imagined to be an apparition of the mind. Felicity did not keep straight ahead, however, to the westward, but paused at the brow of the hill, breathing deep after her long climb, conscious that the rapid beating of her heart was not wholly due to her recent exertion.

It was the prospect of a meeting now imminent that caused the painful tumult in her side and the widening of her dark eyes as she looked up at the saffron blur which marked the position of the moon. Yet there was resolution in her step as she turned southward and took the road that pa.s.sed between the college and the cliff. In spite of the long thaw, the gravelled track was firm beneath her feet, and she walked rapidly in the direction of the Hall, her face pale and set, her warm breath mingling with the swirling mist.

Leigh was also progressing in the same direction by the almost parallel path between the maples, but somewhat in advance of Felicity, inasmuch as she had climbed to the very summit of the hill before turning, while the course he took extended diagonally across the campus from a point further down. Thus it happened that he had gained his rooms by the time she came opposite his western windows. As she glanced up at them in pa.s.sing, their location in the wall became more clearly defined by the appearance of a glimmering light within. She saw Leigh, with his hat and coat still on, come from his eastern room, holding a candle in his hand. He stood under the chandelier, raised the candle, and lighted the jets of gas. Then he advanced to the windows, and pulled the curtains down with a decisive motion, that expressed his inward determination to shut out all ghostly imaginings with the night.

Felicity stood for some time regarding the yellow squares in the murky expanse of the wall. She reflected that he might have been very near her in the mist but a few moments before, since he must have entered the grounds by the maple walk. The other path, by the bishop's statue and across the fields, was seldom used in winter, and was now impracticable because of the soggy condition of the turf. The possible results of the meeting, which had evidently been avoided by mere accident, perhaps only by the thickness of the atmosphere, were incalculable, and sent the blood to her cheeks in a sudden glow.

The memory of their last meeting flooded her whole being warmly, to be followed by a dreary realisation of their present position. The very drawing of the curtains between them seemed symbolical, not so much of his expressed determination to see her no more as of the relentlessness of Fate. She believed that he was strong enough to keep his promise, and knew how gladly she would have him break it. Her actual situation at the moment, shut out from him and standing alone in the night, gave her longing an intensity which she had not hitherto experienced. She wondered whether he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her good-bye once more, had he overtaken her upon the hill. Presently she resumed her way, thinking of the man she was leaving there in his lonely tower rather than of the man she was so soon to meet.

Some quarter of a mile further on, she came to a huge b.u.t.ton-ball tree that marked the trysting-place. Its great trunk and long branches, spotted with white patches, like scars on the twisted limbs of a giant, confronted her as a hideous and uncanny thing. This tree, the only kind in all the country that lacked beauty of line and colour, received a touch of ghastliness from the atmosphere that enveloped it which was not without its effect upon her imagination, and when she saw the mayor emerge from its shadow, she started as if she were confronted by a highwayman.

"Is it you, Felicity?" he ventured anxiously. "I thought you were never coming."

"Was I late?" she returned. "I did n't mean to be; but let us walk further on. We can talk as we go."

As she caught sight of the eager light in his eyes and noted the intonation of his voice, she divined that his mood was radically different from that which had carried him to her house in hot haste a few mornings before. Then, he was burning with a sense of humiliation, frantic with the thought that she was slipping from his grasp, embittered by baffled ambition, and determined to a.s.sert his rights.

Now, softer emotions held sway in his heart. The memory of that scene in the opera house had grown less galling. He was soothed by the blandishments of resilient self-esteem and by his friends' more flattering interpretation of the incident. Indeed, looked at from one perspective, it was a most impressive vindication of his official dignity against the slight that had been put upon it. A new point of view had somehow sprung from his brief contact with the President. For the first time, Cobbens and his kind appeared to him the provincials they were. They no longer blocked his whole horizon, like the lion in the way. Dim dreams of wider ambitions, vague exhilarations, stirred within him. He began to think it possible to transcend Warwick. Thus his temper was less bitter than before, his poise was less a pose, the result of a new adjustment of values.

"Felicity," he began, almost happily, "I could n't help thinking, as I stood there waiting for you, how often I have waited in the same way before. Just think of it, Felicity, for years and years! It seems almost a lifetime, so much has happened in the interval. Did you notice this coat and cap? They 're the same I used to wear when you began to take my car rather than any other. A pretty good disguise for the mayor of Warwick, don't you think?"

A pain went through her heart, not for a lost love, but for the vanished dreams of girlhood. The chord he had hoped to touch remained mute. In view of the fact that she believed love to be dead between them, this method of stimulating an outworn romance seemed sentimental and insincere. Had he loved her, she might well have thought it boyish and pathetic. What he spoke of as a disguise had seemed so natural as to escape her notice; and this indicated the height from which she had never really descended and could now never descend. He had lost his great opportunity of appearing the mayor in her eyes. It was no part of her plan, however, to emphasise this difference between them, for she had seen what vindictive pa.s.sions a realisation of the fact might arouse within him. Full of the warmth of his own emotions, he failed to grasp the significance of her unresponsiveness.

"But have you spoken to the bishop yet, as you promised to?" he asked eagerly.

"No, I have n't--I could n't, yet."

"I 'm glad of it," he returned buoyantly. "I wanted another chance to see you before you spoke to him, to set myself right with you. I did n't mean to threaten you, Felicity. I knew that was no way to win forgiveness, but I was n't myself. Can't you see how the long waiting for you almost drove me mad? But now we 're together again in the old way, and I feel that I can explain everything so that you can understand. Everything that's happened lately to keep us apart seems a dream, something utterly unreal. Come, Felicity, don't you think our meeting was rather a cold one, after such a long separation? Have n't I won the prize you set for me to win, and are you going to deny me my reward?" He made as if he would put his arm about her, but she shrank away with such emphatic and spontaneous denial that he desisted in chagrin. "After all there has been between us," he protested, "are you going to let a pa.s.sing flirtation outweigh the fact that we are man and wife?"

Felicity had somehow not antic.i.p.ated that he would attempt to kiss her, and the movement set her quivering as at an outrage.

"Has there really been so much between us, Tom?" she asked. "Doesn't it all seem a great mistake, which it would be better to acknowledge frankly, rather than to a.s.sume the existence of something that has ceased to exist?"

"And whose mistake was it?" he demanded, with sudden fierceness. "Tell me that."