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The Manxman: A Novel, a novel by Hall Caine |
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Part 2. Boy And Girl - Chapter 15 |
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_ PART II. BOY AND GIRL CHAPTER XV On Saturday night he was early at Sulby. The bat-room was thronged with fishermen in guernseys, sea-boots, and sou'-westers. They were all on their feet together, twisting about like great congers on the quay, drinking a little and smoking a great deal, thumping the table, and all talking at once. "How've you done, Billy?"--"Enough to keep away the divil and the coroner, and that's about all."--"Where's Tom Dug?"--"Gone to Austrilla."--"Is Jimmy over to-day?"--"He's away to Cleveland."--"Gough, bless me, every Manx boy seems to be going foreign."--"That's where we'll all be after long and last, if we don't stop these southside trawlers." Philip went in and was received with goodwill and rough courtesy, but no man abated a jot of his freedom of action or liberty of speech, and the thumping and shouting were as loud as before. "Appeal to the Receiver-General."--"Chut! an ould woman with a face winking at you like a roast potato."--"Will we go to the Bishop, then?"--"A whitewashed Methodist with a soul the size of a dried pea."--"The Governor is the proper person," said Philip above the hubbub, "and he is to visit Peel Castle next Saturday afternoon about the restorations. Let every Manx fisherman who thinks the trawl-boats are enemies of the fish be there that day. Then lay your complaint before the man whose duty it is to inquire into all such grievances; and if you want a spokesman, I'm ready to speak for you."--"Bravo!"--"That's the ticket!" Then the meeting was at an end; the men went on with stories of the week's fishing, stories of smugglers, stories of the Swaddlers (the Wesleyans), stories of the totalers (teetotallers), and Philip made for the door. When he got there, he began to reflect that, being in the house, he ought to leave good-night with Caesar and Grannie. Hardly decent not to do so. No use hurting people's feelings. Might as well be civil. Cost nothing anyway. Thus an overpowering compulsion in the disguise of courtesy drew him again into Kate's company; but to-morrow he would take a new turn. "Proud to see you, Mr. Philip," said Caesar. "The water's playing in the kettle; make Mr. Philip a cup of tay, Nancy," said Grannie. Caesar was sitting back to the partition, pretending to read out of a big Bible on his knees, but listening with both ears and open mouth to the profane stories being told in the bar-room. Kate was not in the kitchen, but an open book, face downwards, lay on the chair by the turf closet. "What's this?" said Philip. "A French exercise-book! Whoever can it belong to here?" "Aw, Kirry, of coorse," said Grannie, "and sticking that close to it of an everin that you haven't a chance to put a word on her." "Vanity, sir, vanity, all vanity," said Caesar; and again he listened hard. Philip's eyes began to blink. "Teaching herself French, is she? Has she been doing it long, Grannie?" "Long enough, sir, three years or better, since poor Pete went away maybe; and at the books for ever, grammars and tex' books, and I don't know what." Caesar, with his ear at the glass, made an impatient gesture for silence, but Grannie continued, "I don't know what for people should be larning themselves foreign languages at all. For my part, there isn't one of them bates the Manx itself for plainness. And aren't we reading, when the Lord wanted to bring confusion on Noah and his disobedient sons and grandsons at going up the Tower of Babel, he made them spake different tongues?" "Good thing too," snapped Caesar, "if every poor man was bound to carry his wife up with him." Philip's eyes were streaming, and, unobserved, he put the lesson-book to his lips. He had guessed its secret. The girl was making herself worthy of him. God bless, her! Kate came downstairs in the dark dress and white collar of Sunday night. She saw Philip putting down the book, lowered her head and blushed, took up the volume, and smuggled it out of sight. Then Caesar's curiosity conquered his propriety and he ventured into the bar-room, Grannie came and went between the counter and the fishermen, Nancy clicked about from dairy to door, and Kate and Philip were left alone. "You were wrong the other night," she said. "I have been thinking it over, and you were quite, quite wrong." "So?" "If a man marries a woman beneath him, he stoops to her, and to stoop to her is to pity her, and to pity her is to be ashamed of her, and to be ashamed of her would kill her. So you are wrong." "Yes?" said Philip. "Yes," said Kate, "but do you know what it ought to be? The _woman_ ought to marry beneath herself, and the man _above_ himself; then as much as the woman descends, the man rises, and so-----don't you see?" She faltered and stopped, and Philip said, "Aren't you talking nonsense,' Kate?" "Indeed, sir!" Kate pretended to be angry at the rebuff, and pouted her lips, but her eyes were beaming. "There is neither above nor below where there is real liking," said Philip. "If you like any one, and she is necessary to your life, that is the sign of your natural equality. It is God's sign, and all the rest is only man's book-keeping." "You mean," said Kate, trying to keep a grave mouth, "you mean that if a woman belongs to some one she can like, and some one belongs to her, that is being equal, and everything else is nothing? Eh?" "Why not?" said Philip. It was music to her, but she wagged her head solemnly and said, "I'm sure you're wrong, Philip. I am, though. Yes, indeed I am. But it's no use arguing. Not against you. Only----" The glorious choir of love-birds in her bosom were singing so loud that she could say no more, and the irresistible one had his way. After a while, she stuffed something into the fire. "What's that?" said Philip. "Oh, nothing," she answered brightly. It was the French exercise-book. _ |
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