The Four Swans (19 page)

She walks like air and smiles like light

‘Mong sinners yet unshriven,

But one among them knows his plight

Excluded yet from Heaven.

In mid-June it was Rowella’s birthday she was fifteen, and her mother, by the coach, sent her a cake. Morwenna gave her a little silver crucifix which she had ordered from Solomon, the gold and silversmith. Mr Whitworth gave her a book of meditation on the Revelation of St John the Divine.

It was also a month to the day since, John Conan Osborne Whitworth was born.

He was prospering mightily, but his mother was still unwell. She had been able to attend the christening and got up each afternoon for about three hours, but she was so pale and listless, could not feed the baby, and her former gentle good looks had utterly faded. Dr Behenna said she was suffering from an excitability of the blood vessels pertaining to the womb, and bled her regularly. The infection, he warned Osborne, might spread to the pelvis, and to counteract this Morwenna was wrapped for two hours each morning in blankets saturated in warm vinegar. The nurse they had engaged for John Conan was also instructed to rub mercurial ointment into Morwenna’s thighs and flanks. So far the treatment was bringing no improvement.

It was a mild damp Friday, and after supper Osborne was in his study writing out the notes of his sermon, with the door of his study ajar - he believed it kept the servants up to scratch to know their master was not quite shut away - when he heard a footstep and a clink of metal and saw Rowella carrying the grey tin bath tub up the first flight of stairs. Returning to his seat after having assured himself that he was not mistaken, he reflected that both Sarah and Anne were in bed by now. Apart from that, it was the larger tin bath which he used himself, on the rare occasions when he used it at all. This information registered in his mind while he tried to concentrate on his sermon. But after another rounded paragraph he heard Rowella come down, and about five minutes later ,a procession of Rowella and his two maids went up the stairs again each carrying a pitcher; and

a waft of steam was left behind them as they went.

He put his pen on his desk and. ruffled the end of it with his thumb. Had he not preached rather on this subject once before, and if this were so would not the notes be filed away in the box in the attic? His mouth went very dry as he thought of this; it was as if all the saliva had suddenly disappeared. He walked to a side table and quickly drank two glasses of mountain, and while he was doing this he heard the two maids come down. But not Rowella.’

In spite of his clumsy figure he could move quietly if need be, and he went silently up the first flight, and listened outside his wife’s door. He heard, her cough once but he knew she was not likely to get up again today. Then like a good father, he peered in at his two little daughters and kissed them good night, They wanted him to stay but he said he could not, as he had much work to do. Then he went up the second flight.

The latch of the attic lifted as if it were recently oiled, and he went in and stole across the room,, sat gently on the wooden box beside the wall and applied his eye to the hole.

At first the fact that it was still daylight put him off slightly, and he was afraid that not only was she out of sight but that the light from the window would make it hard to see. But after a moment he focused properly and saw her sitting on a chair combing her hair. In front of her was the tin bath, from which steam was rising. While he watched she put in more water out of one of the ewers and felt the result with her hand. She was really a very plain girl with her mousy eyebrows and long thin nose and tremulous underlip. She pulled up her skirts and began to drag off her garters and black stockings. This done, she sat with her skirts above her, knees and tried the water with the toes of one foot.

Her legs didn’t have much shape but her feet fascinated him. They were long and slender and excellently proportioned, with good regular nails and very fine pale skin, through which, a few blue veins showed like marks in alabaster. As she flexed them in and out of the water, the bones appeared and disappeared,; revealing the delicate hone structure. Feet had always fascinated him, and these were the most perfect he had ever seen.

She got up and put a towel on the floor and stood on it and took off her two skirts and stood in her long white drawers. She looked very silly standing there while she began to take off her blouse. Under the blouse was another blouse and, under that was a vest. In vest and drawers she walked away and disappeared from his sight. Osborne closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall in desperation. Then she came back with two green ribbons and began to plait her hair. All this time her, lips were moving; and he realized she was humming a little tune. He did not think it was a hymn but some catchy silly little tune she had picked up in the town.

The light, was fading a little now, but the, day had cleared around sunset and an. afterglow lit the sky. This fell softly in the room. Somebody made a noise downstairs and she stopped in her plaiting to listen, head on one side, thin fingers momentarily still. He too listened. It was that fool Alfred, his manservant, who had upset something. The man deserved a whipping.

Silence settled and she went on with her plaiting. He waited, with no saliva to swallow.

She stood up, long and scrawny, and pulled her vest up over her head and was naked to the waist. He almost exclaimed aloud when he saw her breasts; for it was the greatest surprise of his life. She was just fifteen and they were ripe and beautiful. They were bigger than her sister’s, rounder than his first wife’s, whiter and more pure than those of the women in the jelly houses of Oxford. He stared quite unbelieving, not crediting what he saw. How could they have been so hidden away under the lace of blouses, the pleats of frocks, the disguises of linen and cotton, the illusion of thin arms and narrowness of back?

Then Rowella raised her arms to pin back her hair, and her breasts stood out like full fresh fruit suddenly discovered growing upon some all too slender tree. After, a moment she slipped her drawers down, pulled them off and stood and then crouched in the narrow tin bath and began to wash herself.

II

Morwenna was reading when Ossie came in. Reading had become her one escape; an escape from the debility of her own body, the miseries of her daily treatments, the claims of a child she could not feed and could not quite begin to love, and her sense of imprisonment in this house with a man whose very presence oppressed her. Thanks to Rowella and the new library, she had a constant supply of new works to read, mainly history, but some geography and a little, but only a little, theology. Her deeply ingrained religious beliefs had been under a severe strain this last year, and somehow books on the Christian virtues of humility and charity and patience and obedience did not move her any more. She had prayed about it but could not yet feel that her prayers had been answered. She was bitter, and ashamed of her bitterness, and unable to lift herself out of that state.

As soon as she saw Ossie she knew he had been drinking. It was rare for him; normally he drank copiously, but knew when to stop. She had never known him unsteady on his feet or slurred in his speech. He had his standards.

Now he came in, in his thick pleated silk canary-yellow dressing gown, his hair awry, his eyes suffused.

He said : ‘Ah, Morwenna,’ and sat heavily by her bed.

She put the bookmark in her book.

He said: `These weeks, these months, during which, you have been the pr-proud bearer of our child, it has been a trying time for you. I know it well, don’t deny it. Pray don’t deny it. Dr Behenna says you, are much recovered now but still need care. That, as you know, I will endeavour to give you. Have done and will continue to do. Care. Great care. You have given me a fine child, from which you are now much recovered.’

`Did Dr Behenna say that?’

`But I think you must give a thought - a thought to the strain it has been all these weeks and weeks and weeks - on me. On me. D’you understand, on me. That is the other side of the coin. During your pregnancy there was much patient, anxious waiting. At the birth, at the parturition, there was more anxiety, more waiting. At one time your life, I may say, was despaired of. Though one never knows how much Behenna exaggerates the seriousness of a disease in order to gain credit for its intermission. But be that as it may. Since then a month has passed -four long weeks - still of anxiety for me, still waiting.”

A little, touched in spite; of herself, Morwenna said : `I shall be better in a while, Ossie. Perhaps If these treatments do not have effect Dr Behenna will essay something different.’

`It cannot go on,’ Ossie said.

`What cannot go on?’

`I am a cleric, a clerk in Holy Orders, and I endeavour to perform my duties in accordance in acc-accordance with my oaths of office. Morwenna, But I am, also a man. We are all people

don’t you understand that? I sometimes wonder if you understand.’ She looked at him and saw with horror that it was no only drink that made him tongue-tied. Perhaps it was not drink at all. She said: ‘Ossie, if you mean…’

`That is what I do mean`But I am not well! It is too soon!’

`Too soon? Four weeks! I never waited so long as this with Esther. Do you wish me to be ill too? You must know that it is not in human nature-‘

‘Ossie!’ She had raised herself in the bed, her plaited hair reminding him maddeningly of other, plaited hair he had just seen. And all else that he had just seen.

`It is a husband’s right to desire his wife. It is a wife’s duty to submit. Most wives - Esther among them - she was always gratified by the resumption of her husband’s attentions. Always.’ He seized her hand.

`Ossie,’ she said. `Please, Ossie, do you not know that I am..’

`Say no more,’ he said, and kissed her on the forehead and then on the lips. `I will just say a little prayer for us both. Then you must be a wife to me. It will soon be over.’

III

Nampara Meeting, House had been opened in March, and a leading preacher of the circuit had been there to speak to the faithful and to give it and them his blessing. It had been a notable triumph for Sam, for in addition to the twenty-nine of his flock, all of whom he could sincerely and devoutly vouch for as having found Christ, there had been another twenty odd cramming into the tiny chapel, most having come out of curiosity, no doubt, but some having been deeply moved by the preacher,., and Sam’s total flock had afterwards risen to thirtyfour, with a number of others still wrestling with their souls and ripe for conversion. Afterwards the, preacher had congratulated Sam and had eaten with the elders of the class before leaving.

But in June another man came, and his attendance did not bring with it the same warmth and the same joy. His name was Arthur Champion and he was a circuit steward. He preached ably, but without the uplifting emotion one expected, and after the meeting he, spent the night with Sam at Reath Cottage, eating the bread and jam Sam offered him and sleeping in Drake’s old bed. He was a man of about forty; who had been a journeyman shoemaker before he felt the call, and after supper he went politely, but firmly into the finances of Sam’s little class. He was interested to know if all the attending members paid their dues, and what record was kept and whether Sam had a good and reliable assistant to keep the money safe. Also, how the little chapel had been raised, what it had cost and what debts had been incurred. Also, whether seats were more expensive at the front of the chapel than at the back, and by how much. Also, who kept a. record of the activities of the class, and, who planned the weekly meetings. Also, what contribution could be made towards the visits of travelling preachers and full-time workers in the cause of Christ.

Sam listened with patience and humility and answered each question in turn. Most of the attending, members paid their dues when they could, but, poverty in the area being so bad, these payments did not always come in as regular as maybe in a town. `I reckon they should, Sam, just same,’ - said `Champion with a gentle smile. `No society’s worth b’longing to that’s not worth sacrificing for d’ye see, specially one founded as a community that’s discovered salvation.’

Sam said he had a number of good assistants but he did, not bother anyone to keep a record and hold the money safe. He took it down himself in a little black book and the money, when there was money, was kept under the bed that his visitor would sleep on that night. `Brave,’ said Champion. `You do brave and. well, Sam, but I reckon wi’ two or three elders in a group, like, tis desirable to spread the responsibility. Indeed, tis necessary in a well run society.’

Sam said the chapel had been raised on ground given by Captain Poldark and the, stones to build it. had been taken from the ruined engine house of Wheal Maiden right alongside; the roof’d been made of wreck wood which had washed in on Hendrawna Beach, very timely; and the thatch’d been come by at little cost. All, the benches inside had been knocked up local and the altars and pulpit had been made by his brother Drake, who was handy with his carpenter’s saw, out of wood taken from an old library Captain Poldark was having rebuilt. So, as the building had cost almost nothing. but men’s time, working as faithful :servants for the divine Jehovah, Sam had not thought it proper to ask payment to enter the Lord’s house from those who had built’ it. `Right, Sam, right,’ said `Champion gently. `Right and, proper. But soon, maybe a small charge, else yell not be able to contribute to the great wide brotherhood to which you now b’long. Much work is being done from the centre, dye see, by travelling preachers and those who give their lives fully to God. Tis the widow’s mite from every soul we need, from every soul that’s found salvation.’

Sam admitted his error and they went on to discuss organization, how the classes should be asked to meet and how mix and what instructions should be given - and whether there was another who could act as deputy leader if Sam were ill or away. It was all very necessary, Sam fully understood, and all part of becoming active and permanent members of the Great Wesley Connexion. It was no doubt as necessary to have organization as it was to have revelation. Yet he had an uneasy; sensation of being brought down to earth. To Sam the spirit that moved within him and the spirit that had moved like summer lightning among the great concourse at Gwennap last year were, the very fount of redemption, and, although he was quite capable of being practical in other things, he felt that to be practical in matters so vital to the very soul was like leaping a chasm and then being asked to go back and build a bridge across.