The Stepson Read Free Page B

smouldering fire had broken through and was beginning to flame. And now that the boy was grown up he still favoured his mother; a handsome boy, and quiet and secretive like her; and, like her, cheerful and clear-minded under the quiet and secretiveness. He hoped that David would take to Kate. O, of course he would,said Humphrey to himself a little anxiously despite his air of confidence when he had spoken of it to those fellows in the market-place that morning: and stirring himself in his chair he looked across to the sideboard for the ink and writing-paper, resolved to write at once to David. He rose a little stiffly from his chair, padded across to the sideboard in his stocking-feet, and brought back the writing-materials to the table. Then, swinging round his arm-chair, he sat down, leaned forward on the table, and prepared to begin his letter.
    But it was no easy matter. The letter still required, he found, a lot of thought, even though it had already occupied his mind a good deal during the last two days; and he sat, staring vacantly in front of him at the opposite wall, while the images of Kate and David, and then of David’s mother, floated through his mind. He found himself in a strange way confusing Kate with Rachel, for unconsciously he had from his first meeting with Kate transferred to her something of the Rachel of his thoughts and memories. He even deluded himself with the belief that they were alike in appearance, his mind groping for a refuge from its self-accusation of unfaithfulness. A sense of oppression in his chest eased itself in a deep sigh, and bending over the notepaper he began to write:
    â€˜My Dear Lad,
    â€˜I have a piece of news for you which I hope will be good news to you. You see I find it pretty lonelynowadays, you away and your mother dead these three years, and then the house wants a mistress to make things comfortable and take a proper charge of everything. You’ll find it more comfortable yourself, I’ll be bound, when you come home for a holiday, and more still when you have done with Johnson’s and come back here for good. A stepmother can do a lot for a chap, looking after his clothes and so on, to say nothing of making the place more comfortable, and she’s a good, quiet woman, about thirty, her name Kate Patten. We’ve fixed up the wedding for next Thursday week: it will be in her village; Pen-ridge, that is. There’ll be nobody there, only ourselves and four others. If you could have been there, needless to say you’d have been very welcome. You’re always welcome to your old Dad, you know that. The young chestnut foal is coming along fine. She has the makings of a rattling good mare. If she would fetch a high price I might as well sell her when she’s a bit older. But you and I can settle that later on. I’ll be glad to hear from you when you can find time to write, and better pleased still to see you here.’
    Having addressed the envelope and put the letter inside it, Humphrey, his red hands extended on the table before him, fell into a dream. He felt old, melancholy, and soft-hearted. He loved his boy with a curious tenderness, a sense apart from, and, asit seemed to those who knew only the outward man, at variance with the rest of his nature — sharp, bright, and hard-bitten like a flake of polished flint. He loved David for himself, for he and the boy, so different in temperament, were excellent friends. But he loved him too because in him survived something of the colour, the beauty, and the still inscrutable mystery of his dead wife. Then, thinking of Rachel, his thoughts turned again to Kate and his eyes shone. Dark, heavy-browed creature, so unresponsive and so desirable! How little he knew of her yet: of her body, nothing; of her mind, next to nothing. What thrilling discoveries lay before him once again. A subdued, tingling excitement crept through his body and along his limbs. He could feel the quickened pulse of the