`You ask a great deal.'
`No more than you ask of me.'
`Oh, yes, I think it is.
Dwight watched her fingers
stroking
the fold of her skirt. `Very well, then. I'll answer yours first. There are no
t
two men
in
me but only one
-
and that one thinks of
you continuously so that the image of you is never absent. But .. what you complain of is not to be wondered at. Money was never plentiful for me, and studying took all I had. There was no time for drawing-rooms or polite talk. I was not brought up; to know the right addresses to pay beautiful women. I hardly ever met women
-
except as cases. As cases I know them well. So when I have dealings with people now, I differ with the dealings. If you c
ome to me with a sore throat or
a bad knee, you are a patient and I know you
well.
I know
what to do and I do it. And you think
that man has confidence. But if I
meet you in
a drawing
-room, you're not a patient but
a woman, someone whose moods and manners I've never learned to understand. I don't know the right prescription for gallantry I never had leisure to learn it. I don't know how to flatter you
, and if you laugh at me-as you
not seldom do
-
I grow more tongue-tied each minute; and when you sharpen your wits on me, I feel a dullard and a clod.
There's the explanation of it all. What I feel for you
as a person doesn't waver b
etween strength
and weakness; it only wavers between hope and despair!'
She had
stopped looking
at him and was staring across at the other edge of the glade. The curve of her throat gave
him pleasure and pain. As he explained himself he had gained
in confidence.
He said at last: `And you?'
She smiled a little' and shrugged. 'You want me to answer your question now?'
`Yes.'
`Perhaps this is our last meeting, so perhaps I can. Poor
Dwight, have I
laughed at you so often? Have I shown such perfect confidence and poise? You flatter me, you truly do. What elegance I must
display!
How graciously I've been
taught .. '
'I wasn't criticising you
'I'm sure you would not dare, b
ut let me explain
my
self. You say you spent all your time learning to be a physician,
and so had no time for the: formal courtesies. I'm sorry for you. Dear, dear, I am. But do you know what I have spent my time learning to be? Why, an heiress, of course.'
She leaned over on her elbow and looked at him. Her a
uburn hair, tied with a ribbon
at the back, lay on her shoulder.
`An heiress must learn all the courtesies. She must learn to draw and paint and play a musical instrument even if she's tone deaf and only, makes horrid noises. She must know French and perhaps a little Latin; she must understand how to carry herself and how to dress and how to ride `and
how
to
receive, the compliments of her suitors. The one thing she never learns is anything about the successful marriage she is being prepared for. So you see, dear Dr. Enys, it would not be surprising if she also gave the impression of being two persons and with some h
igher justification
than you. You say you don't know how to pay compliments to women or how to behave in the, best
manner. But
at heart you must know women very well. How different in my case. I don't know men at all. I'm expected to be in love at the touch of a hand or at
a
prettily turned compliment. But until
I
marry
-
if my dear uncles have their way
-
I shall know nothing of what a man is really like.' She paused and straightened up. `From hearsay, I know what happens when people sleep together. It does not sound excessively genteel. One, can take
a risk in the gavotte and come to no harm. One should be a little more careful, I fancy, -
before choosing a bed partner for the rest of one
’
s days.'
There was a long silence. The confession had moved Dwight in a new way. It was a new Caroline he suddenly saw
-
not supremely sure of herself and contemptuous of his efforts to please, but as unsure in her own way as he was, and hiding her unsureness behind a mask of laughter and ridicule He was suddenly no longer infatuated but deeply in love.
`And Unwi
n?'
`Unwin was a
suitor ready-made. He came with all the possi
ble, recommendations. And there
was no lack of confidence within him, Dwight. He seemed to think I should be flattered at the idea of marrying,
a seat in
Parliament.
Sometimes I caught him looking
at me, and then I knew that he was interested in my money first, my body second, but myself, for myself, little at all.'
`And I?'
Caroline smiled at him
queerly. `It is not very
easy
to
say
this to your face, is it? When
we first met in Bodmin and quarrelled, I thought, there is a man who ... And again when you came to examine my
throat.
It was not that I liked you, it was that I felt-' She sat up. `No I can't tell you. Let's go.
’
'Tell me.'
'I don't know what I feel for you
-
there that's the truth;, Now go
away.'
She got to her feet and moved a step towards her horse, but he jumped up and barred her way. `You must tell me, Caroline'
She flared at him, but he caught her wrist and held it. She sai
d:
Well, you should know without being told. I wondered what it would be like to be kissed by you, whether I should like it or hate it, whether it would feed or kill my interest in you. But I didn't know and I haven't known and I shan't ever know
-
and now it does not matter, because I'm going away.. Oh, there
have been
other men who've
atttacted and
plenty more who will
! But I shall not marry the first of them nor the second. In October-'
But she said no more. He put his hands on her elbows and pulled her, against him and kissed her on the cheek and then on the mouth. After a moment her hands gripped his shoulders tight, not pulling him
closer but slightly pushing him away, as a
woman will whose critical mind is aware that she has got only
what she asked for. They stood
there so long that a chaffinch fluttered down and stayed pecking at the grass
until one of the horses shuffled-and frightened
it off.
At last, a flight of rooks cawing and settling in the trees separated them. There was a curious strained silence when they broke. Dwight was out of breath an
d he thought Caroline was too.
He said
: 'And now no doubt you hate me.' 'No doubt I hate you.'
`And will be glad to go, cured of your curiosity.
’
'You'd best,' she said, `you'd best
- help me on my horse - if
we're to get back.'
He moved to bend to make a step for her foot, but at the first contact of her skirt he straightened and she was in his arms again. They reeled against the horse, which shied and whinnied; a tree came up against them, and she leaned her back agains
t it as he kissed her again, mor
e deliberately this time.
Already the sun was, higher than it, should have
been. This
time he really helped her to mount, and
then
he climbed up
on to his own horse, and the soft morning breeze wafted on their
faces.
Their horses were
ready to move off, but neither
of the
riders made any
sign:
`When will you be
back?' said Dwight - When I choose'
`You'll write?'
'If you wish me to.'
He made a gesture of hopelessness. Did she want reassurance
of that? 'If you come back .. he began. -
'It will be the same over again? But in October there will,
be one change.'
'What is it?'
`I shall be twenty-one. Uncle Ray can do, nothing to prevent
me from returning to this district after October the twenty
-
sixth.'
They moved off slowly out of the, glade, and nothing was
left but some hoof prints and a few broken bluebells to mark
the emotion which had flared there.
The fine weath
er did not last, and June ended wet, to be fol
lowed by a wetter July and August. The rain beat upon the
crops endlessly, flattened them, and, turned t
hem black. High winds swept the country, and the sun
drifted pale and lost across, the sky among the intermittent storms.
In the cobbled s
treets of Paris new and strange terrors stalked.
The eruption which had cracked the surface of the continental despotisms had suddenly fester
ed and turned in upon, itself.
Hopelessly menaced from the east, tottering to its fall, it was pulling down upon
itself the whole structure of
civilised society. In this last phase of felo-de-se no infamy was too bad. News of the butchery of three hundred priests was followed, by stories of children playing with
heads and four days' con
tinuous slaughter or the packed prisons. Men whispered of the Princess Lamballe torn limb from limb, her head stuck on a pike,
judgment pronounced by the mob
and those found gu
ilty cut obscenely into pieces
on the spot among th
e
corpses, already piled; the prisons no sooner empty than filled again.
Mr. Trencrom, keeping up his
illicit
traffic in spite of
politics and the weather,
reported that Mark Daniel was no longer in Cherbourg but had moved farther along the coast; they hoped to get in touch with him on the next trip. At Wheal Grace the excess of outgoings over revenue was enough to depress the most obstinate mind; and every inch of rain that fell added to the cost of fuel.
In August, Caroline Penvenen wrote to Dwight Enys
:
Dear Dwight,
I am not a prisoner in a tower guarded by a wolf, but
in,
order to write to you and see it posted before Uncle William's
sultry
eye falls on it is no mea
n Achievement. Your last letter
I snatched away from under his very hand and in the nick of time; so when you reply to this pray direct it care of Mistress Nancy Aintree at the Black Dog, Abingdon, where I can redeem it at my leisure. Never have I
known a month so long as this;
, its first fifteen days have seemed like thirty; my adolescence dies hard. How is your Ross Poldark, does his mine prosper and his cousin-in-law continue to
eye him
acquisitively? How are all your patients and especially the pretty one with th
e bad knee? Is her father still
suspicious of you? I don
't wonder. Can you recommend me
some genteel, not unpleasant Malady which I may take leisure to develop between now and October the twenty-sixth? ,
Oxford has many miserable French refugees about its closes: aristocrats with powdered wigs and holes
in
their stockings. They paint a picture of streets running with g
ore; I wonder if they overcolou
, the more to excite our pity. Uncle William entertains them, but when they have gone he grunts, `'A few more heads and it would have been the easier for us!' You see now where I come by my Sensibility. The Penvenen family has no equal for it.
Dear Dwight, I wonder if you truly miss me, or if I am like a recurrent fever that enters your Veins, creating a hectic flush of excitement and leaving you wasted and tabid after
I am gone? I know I should leave you done,
I
really do, but I cannot suppose myself strong enough for such Resolution. My first small experience of you, I must confess though it's unmaidenly, was endurable, so that it's not too much to slip pose a second would be the same. Between now and October I will try to get into some flirtation here, partly so that when my birthday comes 'Uncle William will the more readily see me gone, and partly so that when I come down I may have some surer grounds for comparison.
This I think you are
unlikely
to approve at first thought; yet I know you will not really wish to
deprive me o
f what modest experience I may be able to
gain which will help to make me
a Woman of discrimination.
Believe me,
Your sincere friend, Caroline Penvenen
In early September, a small new lode was found at Wheal Grace bearing better results than the old ones. But the discovery could only
postpone the evil day,
not prevent it. Ross
and Francis still spent two days a week in the old upper levels. Lack of air became one of the worst obstacles, for most of the old air shafts had been filled in. In other places the roof had, fallen, and one had to choose whether to abandon the search
in that direction or to bring out workers to dig or blast a way through.
On the fifteenth of September, Ross and Francis had arranged to meet Zacky Martin and jope Ishbel and to make some final investigations. They spent the morning blasting and trying to drain the old work, which was out of range
of the engine. At noon Zacky went,
and an hour later
the cousins came up and changed
out of their streaming things and walked down to Nampara for dinner. Ross found a letter waiting; for him. Usually, the man who brought the weekly,
paper carried the letters, but this had been delivered by a
journeyman draper who called to see Demelza
in the hope of tempting her to buy. The letter was from his friend and banker, Harris Pascoe.
Dear Captain Poldark,
I have not had the pleasure of seeing you for some months; and I should be glad, to receive a call from you to, sign your account with us, when it as convenient to you.
This letter, however
is of another matter, of which I have some knowledge though personal to yourself. When the Carnmore Co
pper Co. failed in '89 and you
found events pressing you to discharge certain debts, I believe you raised a loan of £1,000 from Mr. Notary Pearce at an abnormal rate of interest. This loan, I have always understood from you, was in the form of a second mortgage on your house and land, of which this Banking House holds
the
first mortgage.
As you know, I rarely stir from my home but much information comes to me unsought and I have heard recently that this loan was not in fact raised upon a second mortgage but was in
the form o
f a Note
o
f Hand or a Promissory Note. Pray tell me if this is so, because the Bill
-
if it is yours is no longer,
I am told, in
Mr. Pearce's hands but has found its way into the possession
o
f Mr. Cary Warleggan.
Your re
lationship with the Warleggans i
s your own concern, and I should not
wish to intrude on
it; but if
it is what I suppose it to b
e, then I should not be astonished at your receiving notice at
any time that the Bill must
be immediately repayed. I do not know how your venture is prospering or whether you have been
able
to set aside any considerable sum to meet such an emergency, but as your
friend I
thought it my du
ty to tell you what 1 had learned.
Call in when next you are in town: we should be glad to have you dine or sup with us.
Yours
etc.
Harris Pascoe
At dinner Ross had little to say. Demelza sensed that the bad news, whatever it was, involved the Warleggans
-
Ross had a special face
for
them-but
her pride
would not let her ask when Francis was there. When the meal was near its end Ross said: `I'll not be able to go down with you this afternoon. This letter calls me to
Truro’
'But you were there yesterday,'. Francis objected. `Can't this wait awhile?'
`No. I'm sorry. No.'
`You'll be back tonight?' said Demelza.
His eyes met hers over Francis's head. 'I'll try. But late. Don't wait up.
’
She watched
him as
he left the room
to change. She
stayed talking with Francis; but when Ross came
down, she slid out
of the room
and stood
with him at the front door waiting for
Gimlett to
bring the mare.
Ross put his hand on her shoulder. `I don't want to explain now. The letter was from Harris Pascoe - certain thin
g
s I had overlooked. I'm going to see him, that's all.'
She looked up into his face. `Bad, Ross?'
`Not good. But I shall know more tonight
’
`'
You'll not be
in trouble to-day?'
'Should I be likely to be, with Harris Pascoe?'
"Not if you stay closeted with him. But there are others you might chance to meet.
He smiled grimly. '`The weather is cold enough for November. Go in now and talk to Francis
. Have you noticed how fond
of our house he is
become since the mine opened?
He's as much here as at his own home.'
`I've noticed'
'Go in and give him another glass of port and take one yourself.'
`I dare not before supper or I should tope all day. About this letter '
But Demelza was interrupted by the arrival of Gimlett leading Darkie. Ross kissed her on the cheek and mounted and rode off up the valley. It seemed to his wife that the clouds were so low he was overtaken by them and half shrouded in them before he was lost to view.
When she went in, Francis had risen from the table and was sitting by the fire she had lighted an hour ago.
`No, don't get up,' she said. `Ross bade us finish the port, but I can't take it myself, not so early; I'd do no work for the rest of the day else' She set, the decanter with his glass on a table beside him and took a seat opposite, stretching out her scarlet, slippers to the warmth. `In a minute I must go see if Jeremy is happy. He never takes his dinner so kindly from Mrs. Gimlett as from me. Did you have no good fortune this morning, Francis?'
`We've chosen the most barren piece of land in the Duchy, I believe.!
'And the lowest levels?’
'A venture of faith without
good,
reason
behind it. Perhaps they'll succeed, because reason certainly has failed... Strange,
’
Ross having to go in to Truro again. Can it be something to do with the Warleggans?'
She looked at him in surprise. `I' don't know. But, I wondered the same. Always when there is a hint of trouble one, wonders if it is the Warleggans at the root of it.'
'Or Francis,' said Francis. `There was a time when I was at the root of it along with George.!
’
"Oh, I do not think so,' she said quickly. 'That time has
gone anyhow.'
'That time has gone. But I don't forget it. At least I do not forget one thing.'
'I think I will go and see for Jeremy.'
'No.' He hesitated, rubbing his hand on the chair. 'No, I have long wanted to tell you this. It must come sometime. .
Years ago
'
`This is best not started, Francis'
'Years ago
-
it would be August of '89
-
when the copper
-
smelting
company was fighting for, its existence -
George came to see me one evening. It was the night Verity had left. I blamed you bitterly for her marriage
-
for everything. In
a
sudden
impulse of anger I gave off information to George which enabled him
to
put pressure on
the
shareholders of the company to withdraw their support. That is the one thing I cannot get over or forgive
myself,’
Demelza got up. 'Why d'you insist on saying this to me
- now?'
Because for long enough I have been facing up to it. I cannot go on accepting your friendship, sitting like
a stray dog at
your fireside, with this not completely cleared up between us. The more our friendship has become of value, the less can it be left as it is. I suspect that Ross already knows the worst -
but he won't let me tell him in so many words, he heads me off, and at the last I turn coward, and let the matter drop. And so it rests.'
Somewhere a
t the back Garrick was barking;
he had been shut out and resented it. Demelza did not speak. Francis got up, put his hand over hers for a minute, and turned towards the window,
Demelza said in, great distress: `It was such a thing to do
to us. Had you no
other way of hurting Ross?'
'An angry impulse end then it's too late. But I don't begin
to make excuse. You also knew?'
'Yes
-
partly. But
-
but to hear it spoken outright . . Francis looked sick. `You can't rebuild a friendship by ignoring what has destroyed it. I had to tell you. I'll go now.
’
'"No, wait. Ross is right, isn't he?' 'Not in this.'
'Yes
in this. For if we break now, we shall injure each
other the more. And the copper smelting could never have prospered, Francis, we know that. Even the Warleggans when
they took it over could not make it pay. Sir John Trevaunance
is selling the machinery.
'Do you excuse a murder because the victim was dying any
how?'
'Not excuse it, no. But I'll not condemn to order neither.
Does Elizabeth know?'
"Does she know what I did? No. It doesn't concern her at
all. Except that she does not understand my worst antagonism
for George Warleggan.'
After a long silence she said : 'You-haven't finished your
port.
’
No?
All I've finished is our friendship-which I prized,
though you may doubt it.'
'I don't doubt it, Francis, but I doubt if you have finished
with it, One bad thing does not outweigh many good. 'Tis
the balance that counts.'
'It did not count with me that night'
`So ever after you regretted it, Should you wish me to make
the same error?'
`Yes'
`Well, then, I shall not.'
"'Not even to please me?' said Francis. 'Not even to please you.'
'I don't wonder,' Francis said, 'that Ross loves you. For
I could do so myself.'