CHAPTER XI
THE OFFER OF OWLEY
A position was defined and an understanding attained between husband and wife, while the unconscious party to their difficulties knew nothing. Thus Adam Winter, in absolute ignorance of the fact, stood upon the brink of events for which he was not responsible—his life being, as all lives, much at the mercy of his fellow-creatures.
Margery's pride kept her tongue still, for she would have endured anything rather than confess the truth. The truth not only stultified Jacob, but it would cast an unjust doubt upon herself if revealed to any other. She knew that many husbands had cause for jealousy and she guessed that, if she warned Winter of Jacob's weakness, he might, while certainly taking no blame upon himself, judge that no smoke existed without fire and imagine that, in some quarter, she had given Bullstone a real cause for his emotion. She valued the farmer's good opinion too highly to risk implanting any such suspicion in his mind. She saw no reason why she should not be fair to herself, and indeed little temptation to speak to anybody longer existed. She had accepted Jacob's apology and the promise of contrition, and since the latter presently took an active form, there rose in her a genuine thankfulness that the long-drawn horror was dispelled. She leapt to welcome the relief. She grew happier and the sensation of increasing resentment, that she should be called to endure his distrust—the sense of living under perpetual insult which she had indicated to him in her anger—died completely.
Jacob himself made a supreme effort and performed actions that presented great difficulties to him. He ruminated for days in solitude and then took two steps, the one trivial, yet rich with satisfaction for Margery; the other momentous. He hesitated long concerning the latter; but opportunity for the first quickly offered and he took it.
To the amazement of his family Bullstone announced a day of pleasuring, and it was not such a day as he sometimes planned—no picnic into the wastes of the Moor, or other excursion, which meant little delight for anybody but himself and Auna. He proposed to take them all to Totnes Races—a jollity beyond their utmost expectations. The youngsters were openly incredulous, only Margery understood and appreciated his sacrifice. The day passed without a cloud and, when night came, his wife thanked Jacob in words that repaid him well.
"I'm not going to pretend to myself that you enjoyed it," she said; "and I know, with your nature, you couldn't, my dear. The trains were enough, without anything else. And yet I wouldn't have had you away, and I wouldn't have gone without you. But you've given a mint of pleasure to us all; and the children are grateful, and I'm more than grateful."
"Let be," he said. "It was a well spent day and I'm none the worse for it, if those I care most for are the better."
But greater things were in his mind and, when the news came that Joseph Elvin was near his end, Bullstone took action. He hesitated long, for he looked ahead and told himself that the cost of failure would stir banked fires and waken evil fears he was fighting to destroy for ever.
He designed a great proposition and everything depended upon another. Immense good must result if the other could meet him, and a stroke precious for his peace be accomplished; but should his suggestion be opposed and declined, then more than passing disappointment would be the result. He reached a point where a serious hitch delayed decision. The man he proposed to approach was Adam Winter, and now, labouring over every detail of the coming conversation, he tried to look at it from Adam's point of view. Immediately his mind was up in arms. Everything hinged on motive, and the great problem centred in Winter's attitude and Winter's secret opinions of what inspired the offer about to be made to him. Bullstone was almost minded to abandon his project after viewing it from this standpoint. For, though to any other man, his motive must be obvious enough and grounded in Jacob's own advantage, to this particular man it was possible it might appear in another light. For Jacob knew very little of Winter and he could not dismiss the weight of past prejudice. It seemed impossible that there had never been anything whatever on the other side, and that his own accumulated tortures and tribulations were all self-inflicted. Adam surely must have some shadowy inkling that he was not a favourite of Bullstone's, and his conscience must indicate the reason. Jacob had reached a point of self-deception from which it was impossible that he could regard Winter as absolutely innocent in thought. And that being so, might not the master of Shipley suspect something lay hidden under the problem to be presented and the offer to be made? Might he not, in truth, guess at the vital reason for Bullstone's approach?
For some weeks Jacob delayed and wearied himself with this problem. Had he submitted it to Margery, she had instantly solved it: that he knew; and he knew how she would solve it. She would assure him that the last shadows still haunting his mind were unworthy of him and might well be dismissed. She would declare his suspicion absurd and reiterate her assurance that he was putting into the mind of Adam imaginary ideas which had never entered it. But along that road was danger and he had no desire to reveal thoughts that would check Margery's present happiness or suggest that he was going back on his word. She believed him purged. Then a new fear crowded down upon him. For Margery must presently hear of his offer to Adam, and how would she take it? If Winter might read into it an inner motive, how much more certainly would she do so.