Eve

The most prodigious marvels occur in dreams and excite no astonishment. Eve had passed into ecstatic dream.

The curtain rose, and the scene was forest, with rocks, and the full moon shining out of the dark blue sky, silvering the trunks of the trees and the mossy stones. A gipsy camp; the gipsies sang a chorus with echo. The captain smote with hammer on a stone and bade his men prepare for a journey to Valencia. The gipsies dispersed, and then Preciosa appeared, entering from the far background, with the moonlight falling on her, subduing to low tones her crimson and yellow, holding a guitar in her hands. She seated herself on a rock, and the moonbeams played about her as she sang and accompanied herself on her instrument.

Lone am I, yet am not lonely,For I see thee, loved and true,Round me flits thy form, thine only,Moonlit gliding o’er the dew.Wander where I may, or tarry,Hangs my heart alone on thee,Ever in my breast I carryThoughts that burn and torture me.Unattainable and peerlessIn my heaven a constant star,Heart o’erflowing, eyes all tearless,Gaze I on thee from afar.

The exquisite melody, the pathos of the scene, the poetry of the words, were more than Eve could bear, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Mr. Coyshe looked round in surprise; he heard her sob, and asked if she were tired or unwell. No! she sobbed out of excess of happiness. The combined beauty of scene and song oppressed her heart with pain, the pain of delight greater than the heart could contain.

Eve saw Alonzo come, disguised as a hunter, having abandoned his father, his rank, his prospects, for love of Preciosa. Was not this like Martin? – Martin the heroic, the self-sacrificing man who rushed into peril that he might be at her feet – Martin, now laid up with rheumatism for her sake.

She saw the gipsies assemble, their tents were taken down, bales were collected, all was prepared for departure. Alonzo was taken into the band and fellowship was sworn.

The moon had set, but see – what is this? A red light smites betwixt the trees and kindles the trunks orange and scarlet, the rocks are also flushed, and simultaneously with a burst, joyous, triumphant, the whole band sing the chorus of salutation to the rising sun. Preciosa is exalted on a litter and is borne on the shoulders of the gipsies. The light brightens, the red blaze pervades, transforms the entire scene, bathes every actor in fire; the glorious song swells and thrills every heart, and suddenly, when it seemed to Eve that she could bear no more, the curtain fell. She sprang to her feet, unconscious of everything but what she had seen and heard, and the whole house rose with her and roared its applause and craved for more.

It is unnecessary for us to follow Eve’s emotions through the entire drama, and to narrate the plot, to say how that the gipsies arrive at the castle of Don Fernando where he is celebrating his silver wedding, how his son Eugenio, by an impertinence offered to Preciosa, exasperates the disguised Alonzo into striking him, and is arrested, how Preciosa intercedes, and how it is discovered that she is the daughter of Don Fernando, stolen seventeen years before. The reader may possibly know the drama; if he does not, his loss is not much; it is a drama of little merit and no originality, which would never have lived had not Weber furnished it with a few scraps of incomparably beautiful music.

The curtain fell, the orchestra departed, the boxes were emptying. All those in the stalls around Eve were in movement. She gave a long sigh and woke out of her dream, looked round at Jasper, then at Mr. Coyshe, and smiled; her eyes were dazed, she was not fully awake.

‘Very decent performance,’ said the surgeon, ‘but we shall see something better in London.’

‘Well, Eve,’ said Jasper, ‘are you ready? I will ask for the manager, and then we must be pushing home.’

‘Home!’ repeated Eve, and repeated it questioningly.

‘Yes,’ answered Jasper, ‘have you forgotten the row up the river and the ride before us?’

She put her hand to her head.

‘Oh, Jasper,’ she said, ‘I feel as if I were at home now – here, where I ought always to have been, and was going again into banishment.’

CHAPTER XLVII.

NOAH’S ARK

Jasper left Eve with Mr. Coyshe whilst he went in quest of the manager. He had written to Mr. Justice Barret as soon as it was decided that the visit was to be made, so as to prepare him for an interview, but there had not been time for a reply. The surgeon was to order a supper at the inn. A few minutes later Jasper came to them. He had seen the manager, who was then engaged, but requested that they would shortly see him in his rooms at the inn. Time was precious, the little party had a journey before them. They therefore hastily ate their meal, and when Eve was ready, Jasper accompanied her to the apartments occupied by the manager. Mr. Coyshe was left over the half-consumed supper, by no means disposed, as it had to be paid for, to allow so much of it to depart uneaten.

Jasper knocked at the door indicated as that to the rooms occupied by the manager and his family, and on opening it was met by a combination of noises that bewildered, and of odours that suffocated.

‘Come in, I am glad to see you,’ said a voice; ‘Justice sent word I was to expect and detain you.’

The manager’s wife came forward to receive the visitors.

She was a pretty young woman, with very light frizzled hair, cut short – a head like that of the ‘curly-headed plough-boy.’ Eve could hardly believe her eyes, this was the real Preciosa, who on the stage had worn dark flowing hair. The face was good-humoured, simple, but not clean, for the paint and powder had been imperfectly washed off. It adhered at the corners of the eyes and round the nostrils. Also a ring of white powder lingered on her neck and at the roots of her hair on her brow.

‘Come in,’ she said, with a kindly smile that made pleasant dimples in her cheeks, ‘but take care where you walk. This is my parrot, a splendid bird, look at his green back and scarlet wing. Awake, old Poll?’

‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ answered the parrot hoarsely, with the hard eyes fixed on Eve.

The girl turned cold and drew back.

‘Look at my Tom,’ said Mrs. Justice Barret, ‘how he races round his cage.’ She pointed to a squirrel tearing inanely up the wires of a revolving drum in which he was confined. ‘That is the way in which he greets my return from the theatre. Mind the cradle! Excuse my dress, I have been attending to baby.’ She rocked vigorously. ‘Slyboots, he knows when I come back without opening his peepers. Sucking your thumb vigorously, are you? I could eat it – I could eat you, you are sweet as barley-sugar.’ The enthusiastic mother dived with both arms into the cradle, brought out the child, and hugged it till it screamed.

‘What is Jacko about, I wonder,’ said the ex-Preciosa; ‘do observe him, sitting in the corner as demure as an old woman during a sermon. I’ll warrant he’s been at more mischief. What do you suppose I have found him out in? I was knitting a stocking for Justice, and when the time came for me to go to the theatre I put the half-finished stocking with the ball of worsted down in the bed, I mistrusted Jacko. As I dare not leave him in this room with baby, I locked him into the sleeping apartment. Will you believe me? he found what I had concealed. He plunged into the bed and discovered the stocking and unravelled the whole; not only so, but he has left his hair on the sheets, and whatever Justice will say to me and to Jacko I do not know. Never mind, if he is cross I’ll survive it. Now Jacko, how often have I told you not to bite off the end of your tail? The poor fellow is out of health, and we must not be hard on him.’

The monkey blinked his eyes, and rubbed his nose. He knew that his delinquencies were being expatiated on.

‘You have not seen all my family yet,’ said Mrs. Barret. ‘There is a box of white mice under the bed in the next room. The darlings are so tame that they will nestle in my bosom. Do you believe me? I went once to the theatre, quite forgetting one was there, till I came to dress, I mean undress, and then it tumbled out; I missed my leads that evening, I was distracted lest the mouse should get away. I told the prompter to keep him till I could reclaim the rascal. Come in, dears! Come in!’ This was shouted, and a boy and girl burst in at the door.

‘My only darlings, these three,’ said Mrs. Barret, pointing to the children and the babe. ‘They’ve been having some supper. Did you see them on the stage? They were gipsies. Be quick and slip out of your clothes, pets, and tumble into bed. Never mind your prayers to-night. I have visitors, and cannot attend to you. Say them twice over to-morrow morning instead. What? Hungry still? Here, Jacko! surrender that crust, and Polly must give up her lump of sugar; bite evenly between you.’ Then turning to her guests, with her pleasant face all smiles, ‘I love animals! I have been denied a large family, I have only three, but then – I’ve not been married six years. One must love. What would the world be without love? We are made to love. Do you agree with me, Jacko, you mischievous little pig? Now – no biting, Polly! You snapping also?’

Then, to her visitors, ‘Take a chair – that is – take two.’

To her children, ‘What, is this manners? Your hat, Bill, and your frock, Philadelphia, and heaven knows what other rags of clothes on the only available chairs.’ She swept the children’s garments upon the floor, and kicked them under the table.

‘Now then,’ to the guests, ‘sit down and be comfortable. Justice will be here directly. Barret don’t much like all these animals, but Lord bless your souls! I can’t do without them. My canary died,’ she sniffled and wiped nose and eyes on the back of her hand. ‘He got poisoned by the monkey, I suspect, who fed him on scraps of green paper picked off the wall. One must love! But it comes expensive. They make us pay damages wherever we stay. They charge things to our darlings I swear they never did. The manager is as meek as Moses, and he bears like a miller’s ass. Here he comes – I know his sweet step. Don’t look at me. I’ll sit with my back to you, baby is fidgety.’ Then entered the manager, Mr. Justice Barret, a quiet man with a pasty face.

‘That’s him,’ exclaimed the wife, ‘I said so. I knew his step. I adore him. He is a genius. I love him – even his pimples. One must love. Now – don’t mind me.’ The good-natured creature carried off her baby into a corner, and seated herself with it on a stool: the monkey followed her, knowing that he was not appreciated by the manager, and seated himself beside her, also with his back to the company, and was engrossed in her proceedings with the baby.

Mr. Justice Barret had a bald head, he was twice his wife’s age, had a very smooth face shining with soap. His hands were delicate and clean. He wore polished boots, and white cravat, and a well-brushed black frock-coat. How he managed in a menagerie of children and animals to keep himself tidy was a wonder to the company.

‘O Barret dear!’ exclaimed his lady, looking over her shoulder, and the monkey turned its head at the same time. ‘I’ve had a jolly row with the landlady over that sheet to which I set fire.’

‘My dear,’ said the manager, ‘how often have I urged you not to learn your part on the bed with the candle by your side or in your hand? You will set fire to your precious self some day.’

‘About the sheet, Barret,’ continued his wife; ‘I’ve paid for it, and have torn it into four. It will make pocket-handkerchiefs for you, dear.’

‘Rather large?’ asked the manager deferentially.

‘Rather, but that don’t matter. Last longer before coming to the wash, and so save money in the end.’

The manager was now at length able to reach and shake hands with Eve and Jasper.

‘Bless me, my dear child,’ he said to the former, ‘you remind me wonderfully of your mother. How is she? I should like to see her again. A sad pity she ever gave up the profession. She had the instincts of an artiste in her, but no training, horribly amateurish; that, however, would rub off.’

‘She is dead,’ answered Eve. ‘Did you not know that?’

‘Dead!’ exclaimed the manager. ‘Poor soul! so sweet, so simple, so right-minded. Dead, dead! Ah me! the angels go to heaven and the sinners are left. Did she remain with your father, or go home to her own parents?’

‘I thought,’ said Eve, much agitated, ‘that you could have told me concerning her.’

‘I!’ Mr. Justice Barret opened his eyes wide. ‘I!’

‘My dear!’ called Mrs. Barret, ‘will you be so good as to throw me over my apron. I am dressing baby for the night, and heaven alone knows where his little night-shirt is. I’ll tie him up in this apron.’ ‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ asked the parrot with its head on one side, looking at Eve.

‘I think,’ said Jasper, ‘it would be advisable for me to have a private talk with you, Mr. Barret, if you do not mind walking with me in the square, and then Miss Eve Jordan can see you after. Our time is precious.’

‘By all means,’ answered the manager, ‘if Miss Jordan will remain with my wife.’

‘O yes,’ said Eve, looking at the parrot; she was alarmed at the bird.

‘Do not be afraid of Poll,’ said Mr. Barret. Then to his wife, ‘Sophie! I don’t think it wise to tie up baby as you propose. He might be throttled. We are going out. Look for the night dress, and let me have the apron again for Polly.’

At once the article required rushed like a rocket through the air, and struck the manager on the breast.

‘There,’ said he, ‘I will cover Polly, and she will go to sleep and talk no more.’

Then the manager and Jasper went out.

‘Now,’ said the latter, ‘in few words I beg you to tell me what you know about the wife of Mr. Jordan of Morwell. She was my sister.’

‘Indeed! – and your name? I forget what you wrote.’

‘My name is Babb, but that matters nothing.’

‘I never knew that of your sister. She would not tell whence she came or who she was.’

‘From your words just now,’ said Jasper, ‘I gather that you are unaware that she eloped from Morwell with an actor. I could not speak of this before her daughter.’

‘Eloped with an actor!’ repeated the manager. ‘If she did, it was after I knew her. Excuse me, I cannot believe it. She may have gone home to her father; he wanted her to return to him.’

‘You know that?’

‘Of course I do. He came to me, when I was at Tavistock, and learned from me where she was. He went to Morwell to see her once or twice, to induce her to return to him.’

‘You must be very explicit,’ said Jasper gravely. ‘My sister never came home. Neither my father nor I know to this day what became of her.’

‘Then she must have remained at Morwell. Her daughter says she is dead.’

‘She did not remain at Morwell. She disappeared.’

‘This is very extraordinary. I will tell you all I know, but that is not much. She was not with us very long. She fell ill as we were on our way from Plymouth to Launceston, and we were obliged to leave her at Morwell, the nearest house, that is some eighteen or nineteen years ago. She never rejoined us. After a year, or a year and a half, we were at Tavistock, on our way to Plymouth, from Exeter by Okehampton, and there her father met us, and I told him what had become of her. I know that I walked out one day to Morwell and saw her. I believe her father had several interviews with her, then something occurred which prevented his meeting her as he had engaged, and he asked me to see her again and explain his absence. I believe her union with the gentleman at Morwell was not quite regular, but of that I know nothing for certain. Anyhow, her father disapproved and would not meet Mr., what was his name? – O, Jordan. He saw his daughter in private, on some rock that stands above the Tamar. There also I met her, by his direction. She was very decided not to leave her child and husband, though sorry to offend and disobey her father. That is all I know – yes! – I recall the day – Midsummer Eve, June the twenty-third. I never saw her again.’

‘But are you not aware that my father went to Morwell on the next day, Midsummer Day, and was told that Eve had eloped with you?’

‘With me!’ the manager stood still. ‘With me! Nonsense!’

‘On the twenty-fourth she was gone.’

Mr. Barret shook his head. ‘I cannot understand.’

‘One word more,’ said Jasper. ‘You will see Miss Eve Jordan. Do not tell her that I am her uncle. Do not cast a doubt on her mother’s death. Speak to her only in praise of her mother as you knew her.’

‘This is puzzling indeed,’ said the manager. ‘We have had a party with us, an amateur, a walking character, who talked of Morwell as if he knew it, and I told him about the Miss Eve we had left there and her marriage to the squire. I may have said, “If ever you go there again, remember me to the lady, supposing her alive, and tell me if the child be as beautiful as I remember her mother.”’

‘There is but one man,’ said Jasper, ‘who holds the key to the mystery, and he must be forced to disclose.’

CHAPTER XLVIII.

IN PART

Mr. Jordan knew more of what went on than Barbara suspected. Jane Welsh attended to him a good deal, and she took a mean delight in spying into the actions of her young mistresses, and making herself acquainted with everything that went on in the house and on the estate. In this she was encouraged by Mr. Jordan, who listened to what she told him and became excited and suspicious; and the fact of exciting his suspicions was encouragement to the maid. The vulgar mind hungers for notoriety, and the girl was flattered by finding that what she hinted stirred the crazy mind of the old man. He was a man prone to suspicion, and to suspect those nearest to him. The recent events at Morwell had made him mistrust his own children. He could not suppose that Martin Babb had escaped without their connivance. It was a triumph to the base mind of Jane to stand closer in her master’s confidence than his own children, and she used her best endeavours to thrust herself further in by aggravating his suspicions.

Barbara was not at ease in her own mind, she was particularly annoyed to hear that Martin was still in the neighbourhood, on their land; naturally frank, she was impatient of the constraint laid on her. She heartily desired that the time would come when concealments might end. She acknowledged the necessity for concealment, but resented it, and could not quite forgive Jasper for having forced it upon her. She even chilled in her manner towards him, when told that Martin was still a charge. The fact that she was obliged to think of and succour a man with whom she was not in sympathy, reacted on her relations with Jasper, and produced constraint.

That Jane watched her and Jasper, Barbara did not suspect. Honourable herself, she could not believe that another would act dishonourably. She under-valued Jane’s abilities. She knew her to be a common-minded girl, fond of talking, but she made no allowance for that natural inquisitiveness which is the seedleaf of intelligence. The savage who cannot count beyond the fingers of one hand is a master of cunning. There is this difference between men and beasts. The latter bite and destroy the weakly of their race; men attack, rend, and trample on the noblest of their species.

Mr. Jordan knew that Jasper and Eve had gone together for a long journey, and that Barbara sat up awaiting their return. He had been left unconsulted, he was uninformed by his daughters, and was very angry. He waited all next day, expecting something to be said on the subject to him, but not a word was spoken.

The weather now changed. The brilliant summer days had suffered an eclipse. The sky was overcast with grey cloud, and cold north-west winds came from the Atlantic, and made the leaves of beech and oak shiver. On the front of heaven, on the face of earth, was written Ichabod – the glory is departed. What poetry is to the mind, that the sun is to nature. The sun was withdrawn, and the hard light was colourless, prosaic. There was nowhere beauty any more. Two chilly damp days had transformed all. Mr. Jordan shivered in his room. The days seemed to have shortened by a leap.

Mr. Jordan, out of perversity, because Barbara had advised his remaining in, had walked into the garden, and after shivering there a few minutes had returned to his room, out of humour with his daughter because he felt she was in the right in the counsel she gave.

Then Jane came to him, with mischief in her eyes, breathless. ‘Please, master,’ she said in low tones, looking about her to make sure she was not overheard. ‘What do y’ think, now! Mr. Jasper have agone to the wood, carrying a blanket. What can he want that for, I’d like to know. He’s not thinking of sleeping there, I reckon.’

‘Go after him, Jane,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘You are a good girl, more faithful than my own flesh and blood. Do not allow him to see that he is followed.’

The girl nodded knowingly, and went out.

‘Now,’ said Mr. Jordan to himself, ‘I’ll come to the bottom of this plot at last. My own children have turned against me. I will let them see that I can counter-plot. Though I be sick and feeble and old, I will show that I am master still in my own house. Who is there?’

Mr. Coyshe entered, bland and fresh, rubbing his hands. ‘Well, Jordan,’ said he – he had become familiar in his address since his engagement – ’how are you? And my fairy Eve, how is she? None the worse for her junket?’

‘Junket!’ repeated the old man. ‘What junket?’

‘Bless your soul!’ said the surgeon airily. ‘Of course you think only of curdled milk. I don’t allude to that local dish – or rather bowl – I mean Eve’s expedition to Plymouth t’other night.’

‘Eve – Plymouth!’

‘Of course. Did you not know? Have I betrayed a secret? Lord bless me, why should it be kept a secret? She enjoyed herself famously. Knows no better, and thought the performance was perfection. I have seen Kemble, and Kean, and Vestris. But for a provincial theatre it was well enough.’

‘You went with her to the theatre?’

‘Yes, I and Mr. Jasper. But don’t fancy she went only out of love of amusement. She went to see the manager, a Mr. Justice Thing-a-majig.’

‘Barret?’

‘That’s the man, because he had known her mother.’

Mr. Jordan’s face changed, and his eyes stared. He put up his hands as though waving away something that hung before him.

‘And Jasper?’

‘Oh, Jasper was with her. They left me to eat my supper in comfort. I can’t afford to spoil my digestion, and I’m particularly fond of crab. You cannot eat crab in a scramble and do it justice.’

‘Did Jasper see the manager?’ Mr. Jordan’s voice was hollow. His hands, which he held deprecatingly before him, quivered. He had his elbows on the arms of his chair.

‘Oh, yes, of course he did. Don’t you understand? He went with Eve whilst I finished the crab. It was really a shame; they neither of them half cleaned out their claws, they were in such a hurry. “Preciosa” was not amiss, but I preferred crab. One can get plays better elsewhere, but crab nowhere of superior quality.’

Mr. Jordan began to pick at the horse-hair of his chair arm. There was a hole in the cover and his thin white nervous fingers plucked at the stuffing, and pulled it out and twisted it and threw it down, and plucked again.

‘What – what did Jasper hear?’ he asked falteringly.

‘How can I tell, Jordan? I was not with them. I tell you, I was eating my supper quietly, and chewing every mouthful. I cannot bolt my food. It is bad – unprincipled to do so.’

‘They told you nothing?’

‘I made no inquiries, and no information was volunteered.’

A slight noise behind him made Coyshe turn. Eve was in the doorway. ‘Here she is to answer for herself,’ said the surgeon. ‘Eve, my love, your father is curious about your excursion to Plymouth, and wants to know all you heard from the manager.’

‘Oh, papa! I ought to have told you!’ stammered Eve.

‘What did he say?’ asked the old man, half-impatiently, half fearfully.

‘Look here, governor,’ said the surgeon; ‘it strikes me that you are not acting straight with the girl, and as she is about to become my wife, I’ll stand up for her and say what is fitting. I cannot see the fun of forcing her to run away a day’s journey to pick up a few scraps of information about her mother, when you keep locked up in your own head all that she wants to know. I can understand and make allowance for you not liking to tell her everything, if things were not – as is reported – quite ecclesiastically square between you and the lady. But Eve is no longer a child. I intend her to become my wife, and sooner or later she must know all. Make a clean breast and tell everything.’