Wood and Stone: A Romance

by John Cowper Powys

He had already grown completely weary of Gladys. The clinging and submissive passion with which the proud girl had pursued him of late had begun to irritate his nerves. More than once—especially when her importunities interrupted his newer pleasures—he had found himself on the point of hating her. He was absolutely cynical—and always had been—with regard to the ideal of faithfulness in these matters. Even the startling vision of the indignant Dangelis putting into her hands—as he supposed the American might naturally do—the actual written words with which he betrayed her, only ruffled his equanimity in a remote and even half-humorous manner. He recalled her contemptuous treatment of him on the occasion of their first amorous encounter and it was not without a certain malicious thrill of triumph that he realized how thoroughly he had been revenged.

He had divined without difficulty on the occasion of their return from Hullaway that Gladys was on the point of revealing to him the fact that she was likely to have a child; and since that day he had taken care to give her little opportunity for such revelations. Absorbed in anxiety for James, he had been anxious to postpone this particular crisis between them till a later occasion.

The situation, nevertheless, whenever he had thought of it, had given him, in spite of its complicated issues, an undeniable throb of satisfaction. It was such a complete, such a triumphant victory, over Mr. Romer. Luke in his heart had an unblushing admiration for the quarry-owner, whose masterly attitude towards life was not so very different from his own. But this latent respect for his employer rather increased than diminished his complacency in thus striking him down. The remote idea that, in the whirligig of time, an offspring of his own should come to rule in Nevilton house—as seemed by no means impossible, if matters were discreetly managed—was an idea that gave him a most delicate pleasure.

As they strolled back to breakfast together, across the intervening field, and admired the early dahlias in the station-master’s garden, Luke took the risk of testing his brother on the matter of Mr. Quincunx. He was anxious to be quite certain of his ground here, before he had his interview with the tenant of the Gables.

“I wish,” he remarked casually, “that Maurice Quincunx would show a little spirit and carry Lacrima off straight away.”

James looked closely at him. “If he would,” he said, “I’d give him every penny I possess and I’d work day and night to help them! O Luke—Luke!” he stretched out his arm towards Leo’s Hill and pronounced what seemed like a vow before the Eumenides themselves; “if I could make her happy, if I could only make her happy, I would be buried tomorrow in the deepest of those pits.”

Luke registered his own little resolution in the presence of this appeal to the gods. “Gladys? What is Gladys to me compared with James? All girls are the same. They all get over these things.”

Meanwhile James Andersen was repeating in a low voice to himself the quaint name of his rival.

“He is an ash-root, a tough ash-root,” he muttered. “And that’s the reason he has been chosen. There’s nothing in the world but the roots of trees that can undermine the power of Stone! The trees can do it. The trees will do it. What did that Catholic say? He said it was Wood against Stone. That’s the reason I can’t help her. I have worked too long at Stone. I am too near Stone. That’s the reason Quincunx has been chosen. She and I are under the power of Stone, and we can’t resist it, any more than the earth can! But ash-tree roots can undermine anything. If only she would take my money, if only she would.”

This last aspiration was uttered in a voice loud enough for Luke to hear; and it may be well believed that it fortified him all the more strongly in his dishonourable resolution.