It might at first sight be thought that the best course for Margery at this juncture would have been to go to Jim, and nip the intrigue in the bud without further scruple.But her own declaration in after days was that whoever could say that was far from realizing her situation.It was hard to break such ice as divided their two lives now, and to attempt it at that moment was a too humiliating proclamation of defeat.The only plan she could think of--perhaps not a wise one in the circumstances--was to go to the Review herself;and be the gayest there.
A method of doing this with some propriety soon occurred to her.She dared not ask her father, who scorned to waste time in sight-seeing, and whose animosity towards Jim knew no abatement; but she might call on her old acquaintance, Mr.Vine, Jim's partner, who would probably be going with the rest of the holiday-folk, and ask if she might accompany him in his spring-trap.She had no sooner perceived the feasibility of this, through her being at her grandmother's, than she decided to meet with the old man early the next morning.
In the meantime Jim and Mrs.Peach had walked slowly along the road together, Jim leading the horse, and Mrs.Peach informing him that her father, the gardener, was at Jim's village further on, and that she had come to meet him.Jim, for reasons of his own, was going to sleep at his partner's that night, and thus their route was the same.
The shades of eve closed in upon them as they walked, and by the time they reached the lime-kiln, which it was necessary to pass to get to the village, it was quite dark.Jim stopped at the kiln, to see if matters had progressed rightly in his seven days' absence, and Mrs.
Peach, who stuck to him like a teazle, stopped also, saying she would wait for her father there.
She held the horse while he ascended to the top of the kiln.Then rejoining her, and not quite knowing what to do, he stood beside her looking at the flames, which to-night burnt up brightly, shining a long way into the dark air, even up to the ramparts of the earthwork above them, and overhead into the bosoms of the clouds.
It was during this proceeding that a carriage, drawn by a pair of dark horses, came along the turnpike road.The light of the kiln caused the horses to swerve a little, and the occupant of the carriage looked out.He saw the bluish, lightning-like flames from the limestone, rising from the top of the furnace, and hard by the figures of Jim Hayward, the widow, and the horse, standing out with spectral distinctness against the mass of night behind.The scene wore the aspect of some unholy assignation in Pandaemonium, and it was all the more impressive from the fact that both Jim and the woman were quite unconscious of the striking spectacle they presented.The gentleman in the carriage watched them till he was borne out of sight.
Having seen to the kiln, Jim and the widow walked on again, and soon Mrs.Peach's father met them, and relieved Jim of the lady.When they had parted, Jim, with an expiration not unlike a breath of relief; went on to Mr.Vine's, and, having put the horse into the stable, entered the house.His partner was seated at the table, solacing himself after the labours of the day by luxurious alternations between a long clay pipe and a mug of perry.
'Well,' said Jim eagerly, 'what's the news--how do she take it?'
'Sit down--sit down,' said Vine.''Tis working well; not but that Ideserve something o' thee for the trouble I've had in watching her.
The soldiering was a fine move; but the woman is a better!--who invented it?'
'I myself,' said Jim modestly.
'Well; jealousy is making her rise like a thunderstorm, and in a day or two you'll have her for the asking, my sonny.What's the next step?'
'The widow is getting rather a weight upon a feller, worse luck,'
said Jim.'But I must keep it up until to-morrow, at any rate.Ihave promised to see her at the Review, and now the great thing is that Margery should see we a-smiling together--I in my full-dress uniform and clinking arms o' war.'Twill be a good strong sting, and will end the business, I hope.Couldn't you manage to put the hoss in and drive her there? She'd go if you were to ask her.'
'With all my heart,' said Mr.Vine, moistening the end of a new pipe in his perry.'I can call at her grammer's for her--'twill be all in my way.'
