Jasper, relieved by the veterans departure, began at once to make himself very agreeable company. When he chose to lay aside the topic of his own difficulties and ambitions, he could converse with a spontaneous gaiety which readily won the good-will of listeners. Naturally he addressed himself very often to Marian Yule, whose attention complimented him. She said little, and evidently was at no time a free talker, but the smile on her face indicated a mood of quiet enjoyment. When her eyes wandered, it was to rest on the beauties of the garden, the moving patches of golden sunshine, the forms of gleaming cloud. Jasper liked to observe her as she turned her head: there seemed to him a particular grace in the movement; her head and neck were admirably formed, and the short hair drew attention to this.
It was agreed that Miss Harrow and Marian should come on the second day after to have tea with the Milvains. And when Jasper took leave of Alfred Yule, the latter expressed a wish that they might have a walk together one of these mornings.
Chapter 3. Holiday
Jaspers favourite walk led him to a spot distant perhaps a mile and a half from home. From a tract of common he turned into a short lane which crossed the Great Western railway, and thence by a stile into certain meadows forming a compact little valley. One recommendation of this retreat was that it lay sheltered from all winds; to Jasper a wind was objectionable. Along the bottom ran a clear, shallow stream, overhung with elder and hawthorn bushes; and close by the wooden bridge which spanned it was a great ash tree, making shadow for cows and sheep when the sun lay hot upon the open field. It was rare for anyone to come along this path, save farm labourers morning and evening.
But to-daythe afternoon that followed his visit to John Yules househe saw from a distance that his lounging-place on the wooden bridge was occupied. Someone else had discovered the pleasure there was in watching the sun-flecked sparkle of the water as it flowed over the clean sand and stones. A girl in a yellow-straw hat; yes, and precisely the person he had hoped, at the first glance, that it might be. He made no haste as he drew nearer on the descending path. At length his footstep was heard; Marian Yule turned her head and clearly recognised him.
She assumed an upright position, letting one of her hands rest upon the rail. After the exchange of ordinary greetings, Jasper leaned back against the same support and showed himself disposed for talk.
When I was here late in the spring, he said, this ash was only just budding, though everything else seemed in full leaf.
An ash, is it? murmured Marian. I didnt know. I think an oak is the only tree I can distinguish. Yet, she added quickly, I knew that the ash was late; some lines of Tennyson come to my memory.
Which are those?
Delaying, as the tender ash delays
To clothe herself when all the woods are green,
somewhere in the Idylls.
I dont remember; so I wont pretend tothough I should do so as a rule.
She looked at him oddly, and seemed about to laugh, yet did not.
You have had little experience of the country? Jasper continued.
Very little. You, I think, have known it from childhood?
In a sort of way. I was born in Wattleborough, and my people have always lived here. But I am not very rural in temperament. I have really no friends here; either they have lost interest in me, or I in them. What do you think of the girls, my sisters?
The question, though put with perfect simplicity, was embarrassing.
They are tolerably intellectual, Jasper went on, when he saw that it would be difficult for her to answer. I want to persuade them to try their hands at literary work of some kind or other. They give lessons, and both hate it.
Would literary work be lessburdensome? said Marian, without looking at him.
Rather more so, you think?
She hesitated.
It depends, of course, onon several things.
To be sure, Jasper agreed. I dont think they have any marked faculty for such work; but as they certainly havent for teaching, that doesnt matter. Its a question of learning a business. I am going through my apprenticeship, and find it a long affair. Money would shorten it, and, unfortunately, I have none.
Yes, said Marian, turning her eyes upon the stream, money is a help in everything.
Without it, one spends the best part of ones life in toiling for that first foothold which money could at once purchase. To have money is becoming of more and more importance in a literary career; principally because to have money is to have friends. Year by year, such influence grows of more account. A lucky man will still occasionally succeed by dint of his own honest perseverance, but the chances are dead against anyone who cant make private interest with influential people; his work is simply overwhelmed by that of the men who have better opportunities.
Dont you think that, even to-day, really good work will sooner or later be recognised?
Later, rather than sooner; and very likely the man cant wait; he starves in the meantime. You understand that I am not speaking of genius; I mean marketable literary work. The quantity turned out is so great that theres no hope for the special attention of the public unless one can afford to advertise hugely. Take the instance of a successful all-round man of letters; take Ralph Warbury, whose name youll see in the first magazine you happen to open. But perhaps he is a friend of yours?
Oh no!
Well, I wasnt going to abuse him. I was only going to ask: Is there any quality which distinguishes his work from that of twenty struggling writers one could name? Of course not. Hes a clever, prolific man; so are they. But he began with money and friends; he came from Oxford into the thick of advertised people; his name was mentioned in print six times a week before he had written a dozen articles. This kind of thing will become the rule. Men wont succeed in literature that they may get into society, but will get into society that they may succeed in literature.
Yes, I know it is true, said Marian, in a low voice.
Theres a friend of mine who writes novels, Jasper pursued. His books are not works of genius, but they are glaringly distinct from the ordinary circulating novel. Well, after one or two attempts, he made half a success; that is to say, the publishers brought out a second edition of the book in a few months. There was his opportunity. But he couldnt use it; he had no friends, because he had no money. A book of half that merit, if written by a man in the position of Warbury when he started, would have established the reputation of a lifetime. His influential friends would have referred to it in leaders, in magazine articles, in speeches, in sermons. It would have run through numerous editions, and the author would have had nothing to do but to write another book and demand his price. But the novel Im speaking of was practically forgotten a year after its appearance; it was whelmed beneath the flood of next seasons literature.
Marian urged a hesitating objection.
But, under the circumstances, wasnt it in the authors power to make friends? Was money really indispensable?
Why, yesbecause he chose to marry. As a bachelor he might possibly have got into the right circles, though his character would in any case have made it difficult for him to curry favour.
But as a married man, without means, the situation was hopeless. Once married you must live up to the standard of the society you frequent; you cant be entertained without entertaining in return. Now if his wife had brought him only a couple of thousand pounds all might have been well. I should have advised him, in sober seriousness, to live for two years at the rate of a thousand a year. At the end of that time he would have been earning enough to continue at pretty much the same rate of expenditure.
Perhaps.
Well, I ought rather to say that the average man of letters would be able to do that. As for Reardon
He stopped. The name had escaped him unawares.
Reardon? said Marian, looking up. You are speaking of him?
I have betrayed myself Miss Yule.
But what does it matter? You have only spoken in his favour.
I feared the name might affect you disagreeably.
Marian delayed her reply.
It is true, she said, we are not on friendly terms with my cousins family. I have never met Mr Reardon. But I shouldnt like you to think that the mention of his name is disagreeable to me.
It made me slightly uncomfortable yesterdaythe fact that I am well acquainted with Mrs Edmund Yule, and that Reardon is my friend. Yet I didnt see why that should prevent my making your fathers acquaintance.
Surely not. I shall say nothing about it; I mean, as you uttered the name unintentionally.
There was a pause in the dialogue. They had been speaking almost confidentially, and Marian seemed to become suddenly aware of an oddness in the situation. She turned towards the uphill path, as if thinking of resuming her walk.
You are tired of standing still, said Jasper. May I walk back a part of the way with you?
Thank you; I shall be glad.
They went on for a few minutes in silence.
Have you published anything with your signature, Miss Yule? Jasper at length inquired.
Nothing. I only help father a little.
The silence that again followed was broken this time by Marian.
When you chanced to mention Mr Reardons name, she said, with a diffident smile in which lay that suggestion of humour so delightful upon a womans face, you were going to say something more about him?
Only that he broke off and laughed. Now, how boyish it was, wasnt it? I remember doing just the same thing once when I came home from school and had an exciting story to tell, with preservation of anonymities. Of course I blurted out a name in the first minute or two, to my fathers great amusement. He told me that I hadnt the diplomatic character. I have been trying to acquire it ever since.
But why?
Its one of the essentials of success in any kind of public life. And I mean to succeed, you know. I feel that I am one of the men who do succeed. But I beg your pardon; you asked me a question. Really, I was only going to say of Reardon what I had said before: that he hasnt the tact requisite for acquiring popularity.
Then I may hope that it isnt his marriage with my cousin which has proved a fatal misfortune?
In no case, replied Milvain, averting his look, would he have used his advantages.
And now? Do you think he has but poor prospects?
I wish I could see any chance of his being estimated at his right value. Its very hard to say what is before him.
I knew my cousin Amy when we were children, said Marian, presently. She gave promise of beauty.
Yes, she is beautiful.
Andthe kind of woman to be of help to such a husband?
I hardly know how to answer, Miss Yule, said Jasper, looking frankly at her. Perhaps I had better say that its unfortunate they are poor.
Marian cast down her eyes.
To whom isnt it a misfortune? pursued her companion. Poverty is the root of all social ills; its existence accounts even for the ills that arise from wealth. The poor man is a man labouring in fetters. I declare there is no word in our language which sounds so hideous to me as Poverty.
Shortly after this they came to the bridge over the railway line. Jasper looked at his watch.
Will you indulge me in a piece of childishness? he said. In less than five minutes a London express goes by; I have often watched it here, and it amuses me. Would it weary you to wait?
I should like to, she replied with a laugh.
The line ran along a deep cutting, from either side of which grew hazel bushes and a few larger trees. Leaning upon the parapet of the bridge, Jasper kept his eye in the westward direction, where the gleaming rails were visible for more than a mile. Suddenly he raised his finger.
You hear?
Marian had just caught the far-off sound of the train. She looked eagerly, and in a few moments saw it approaching. The front of the engine blackened nearer and nearer, coming on with dread force and speed. A blinding rush, and there burst against the bridge a great volley of sunlit steam. Milvain and his companion ran to the opposite parapet, but already the whole train had emerged, and in a few seconds it had disappeared round a sharp curve. The leafy branches that grew out over the line swayed violently backwards and forwards in the perturbed air.
If I were ten years younger, said Jasper, laughing, I should say that was jolly! It enspirits me. It makes me feel eager to go back and plunge into the fight again.
Upon me it has just the opposite effect, fell from Marian, in very low tones.
Oh, dont say that! Well, it only means that you havent had enough holiday yet. I have been in the country more than a week; a few days more and I must be off. How long do you think of staying?
Not much more than a week, I think.
By-the-bye, you are coming to have tea with us to-morrow, Jasper remarked a propos of nothing. Then he returned to another subject that was in his thoughts.
It was by a train like that that I first went up to London. Not really the first time; I mean when I went to live there, seven years ago. What spirits I was in! A boy of eighteen going to live independently in London; think of it!
You went straight from school?
I was for two years at Redmayne College after leaving Wattleborough Grammar School. Then my father died, and I spent nearly half a year at home. I was meant to be a teacher, but the prospect of entering a school by no means appealed to me. A friend of mine was studying in London for some Civil Service exam., so I declared that I would go and do the same thing.
Did you succeed?
Not I! I never worked properly for that kind of thing. I read voraciously, and got to know London. I might have gone to the dogs, you know; but by when I had been in London a year a pretty clear purpose began to form in me. Strange to think that you were growing up there all the time. I may have passed you in the street now and then.
Marian laughed.
And I did at length see you at the British Museum, you know.
They turned a corner of the road, and came full upon Marians father, who was walking in this direction with eyes fixed upon the ground.
So here you are! he exclaimed, looking at the girl, and for the moment paying no attention to Jasper. I wondered whether I should meet you. Then, more dryly, How do you do, Mr Milvain?
In a tone of easy indifference Jasper explained how he came to be accompanying Miss Yule.