 Book 4, Part 3 of Susan, by Ernest Oldmedow. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. LA VILLE DE LA MER, PART 3 As I sped along as sickening fear seized me, what if Ruddington and Susan, by another of the ghastly mishaps which kept dogging us all along, had run into one another on the beach? No. As I neared the big boat, I saw him standing there alone. He stowed out to meet me eagerly and wonderingly. Why are you still here? I asked. Where would you have me be? He said. I have always loved France. But henceforth France will mean for me just these few square yards of shadow on the stones. You must not brood, I answered. You talk as if you are never to be happy any more. In some other world, he said smiling sadly, I mean to be happy with you. Some other world, I said, who knows that God may not reward you soon in this? He turned to me with a start, but I did not let him speak. Have you eaten? I asked. Not yet. How silly, I said, nor have I. Come eat bread with me. This wind shall be the salt. He took half the roll and smiled. But I could see that my high spirit first jarred on him and then troubled him. You are not well, he said. You are overwrought. You are excited. Let me lead you home. No, I said. I have not felt so well for years. I must go, but not home. There is business to be done. Where? He asked, startled, along the beach. Then he said firmly, you do not go alone. I considered for a moment. Then I looked him full in the face. If I allow you to come, I said, will you promise to disappear when you are told and to come out when you are called and not to speak till I give you leave? He answered, I promise. I did not disdain his arm. Whatever befell knew he was mine, all mine. The wind was in our faces, the moonbeams flashed on the water. Cutter came to my cheeks and the breeze ruffled the hair which had gone so long without Susan's brush and comb. As we snapped over the stones we might have been a boy and a girl escaping on a frolic. A few hundreds of yards from the beck we were able to climb the low slope and to pat along mutely over the grass. At the first brambles we turned inland and descended softly into the ravine. We pulled up behind a high bush. Hush! I whispered, not a sound. Don't move or speak till I give the word. Through the thin autumn foliage by the pale light of the moon we could see a woman's figure across the beck. It was Susan seated upon a modest bag. I did not explain to Ruddington. I did not even tell him who the woman was. Two or three minutes passed and then the silver chime of Birini proclaimed half past eight. Susan drew out her little handkerchief and wiped away a tear. My heart went out to her. There was no Gibson and I began to hope our task would be easy. But we heard a sudden sound of snapping branches and hurrying feet and Gibson broke through into the light. Susan jumped up to meet him. Oh, Tom! She wailed. I began to think he wasn't coming. Ruddington touched my hand. Hotten't we to go away from here? He whispered. No. I whispered back, shaking my fist. We hotten't. I was out with a bloomin' car, explained Gibson. Sure Jett brought your letter at half past three, but I didn't get it till seven. Thank goodness you wasn't away for the night, exclaimed Susan fervently. Well, I'm here anyway, said Gibson. Not that I expect it's going to do me any good. You promised you'd settled me this week on or off, one way or another. I suppose you've only brought me here to give me the chuck. Susan did not reply. What have you got there? Asked Gibson with a jump. He had caught sight of Susan's bag. It's my things, said Susan. Oh, Tom, I want you to take me away. Take you away? echoed Gibson, thunders struck. Yes, yes, take me away, now this minute. Oh, Tom, don't say you won't. But where can I take you to? asked astounded Gibson. To Grand Pong? Not me, said Susan's gallant with emphasis. I suppose you think that at a cafe or restaurant you can do anything? Don't make no mistake. They're the properest lot at Grand Pong that ever I struck in all my natural. Why, just to think of Madam opening the door and me bringing in a young lady at midnight? Not me. Oh, Tom, don't be such a beast, moaned Susan. The very idea. You know quite well you do that I'd never go to the same house. I'd die first. But oh, Tom, you must take me somewhere. We might go to the clergyman's wife. They don't have no clergyman in France, said Gibson with British scorn. Only priests. And priests don't have no wives. But look here. What do you want to be took away for? What's up? Susan was silent. It's some tiff with the Mrs., said Gibson derisively. That's what it is. And I ain't going to be a party to it. Bet my feet that Mrs. is in the right. Fact is, this toff, Gibson paused and repeated the word with disdain. This toff has given you swelled head. Not me. I ain't going to take sides against the Mrs. just for the sake of him. The old girl's always been too good to me. The undressed grammar and off-duty vocabulary of my two model domestics opened my eyes wide and made my ears burn. As for Ruddington, he touched my hand again, and I saw that his face was full of pain. He had guessed that I was showing him Susan. We must and stay, he said. We must. I answered, stamping my foot on the grass, for Susan was speaking. No, Tom, no, she moaned. Not the Mrs. It isn't a tiff with the Mrs. Oh, it breaks my heart to think of it. Tonight, just before I ran away, she was sitting looking at the fire. She looked that sad and lonely I burst out crying, and if I hadn't run straight out of the house I wouldn't have come at all. No, no, no. Not the Mrs. What the deuce is it, then? asked Gibson. It's, it's him, blurted Susan desperately. Him? Not, not the Toff? Yes, groaned Susan. The Toff. He's coming. He wants to meet me here. Here, tonight. No, tomorrow, eleven o'clock. Oh, Tom, I can't bear it. Take me away? Gibson emitted a long, low whistle. He took off his cap, crushed it up, and put it on again. Then he ducked for Susan's bag and dropped it down a few yards away as if he wanted room. Last of all, he bent his head till he could look straight into Susan's eyes. Suzy, he said slowly, you don't say you're going to give him up? He had dropped his vile pronunciation and had strangely regained the simple dignity with which he had spoken to me at Tracksleby. Not that you're going to give him up? He repeated. Yes, yes, yes, said Susan. I don't want him. I won't have him. I can't bear him. Take me away? And if I do, he asked intently, can you bear me, Suzy? Will you have me? Oh, Tom, of course I will! She wailed, clinging to him with all her might. And suddenly raising herself on tiptoe, she gave him a resounding, rustic kiss. Behind our bush we recoiled a little, both from them and from one another. We will go, said Ruddington. We won't, I said, pinching his arm to keep him quiet. So we looked away while Gibson returned the kiss, not once or twice, or thrice. Suzy demanded Gibson at last. What is his name? Who is he? His name, proclaimed Susan after an effective delay, is Lord Ruddington. Gibson let her fall from his embrace like a stone. He sprang back a man's length. Oh, yes, of course, he said mockingly when he had found his breath. Lord Ruddington, alias the king of Spain, alias the emperor of Russia, of course. Honor bright it's true, said Susan indignantly. If it isn't, may I be struck down dead. His lordship fell over his head in love with me and trax'll be church. Suzy, this is true, he demanded striding up to her and speaking fiercely. This is true. Don't go on, silly, said Susan. Gibson leaned against a tree and thought for some time. At last he straightened himself up and said in low excited tones. Look here, Suzy, this makes a difference. You don't think I'm going to help you miss a chance like that? Haven't I always said you're fit to be a duchess? No, Suzy, it isn't good enough. Do you think I'm going to let you throw yourself away on a poor thirty-bob-a-week devil like me? Oh, don't, Tom, don't," she pleaded, clinging to him again. Don't, or you'll make me change my mind. There isn't a finer gentleman in all England than Lord Ruddington, said Gibson. Oh, don't," wailed Susan again. What is the matter with him, demanded Gibson. It isn't his money. No, nor his horses. Perhaps it's his looks. We'd better be going," I whispered to Ruddington behind our bush. No, no," protested Susan. It isn't his looks. When I put him in that folding frame facing Miss Langley, they looked lovely, just like royalty. No, it isn't his looks. I could put up with that. Then what is it you can't put up with? asked Gibson, searchingly. She scraped the ground with her foot, as she used to scrape the garden gravel before she replied mysteriously. Tom, he's so funny. He's all twists and turns. It'd be like being married to Anil. If he's the same as his letters, he'd make me all giddy. When I read them, everything seems to begin turning and turning round. Gibson snorted impatiently. With a thousand pound a week, he said ironically, you'll soon get used to that. Tom, don't, don't," she cried. How can you be so cruel? If you cared about me as you said you did, you wouldn't let nobody have me but you. Not if it was the Prince of Wales crawling on his bended knees. Gibson came more into the light. I could read in his face the bitterness of his heart. Susie, he said, what's the use of talking? If I take you away to-night you know you'll have to marry me even if you change your mind before tomorrow morning. Unless there's some good reason why you won't marry Lord Reddington, you'll repent of it when we're poor and when we've to work hard for a living. You'll throw it in my teeth and we shall be worse than a cat and a dog. I was amazed at Gibson's paltryness, amazed and angry. But not for long. All at once my groom drew himself up as grandly as the night of romance and demanded. Susie, girl, isn't there a better reason? My maid was his equal. Yes, Tom, yes," she cried passionately. There's a better reason. Oh, Tom, I'm in love with you and I always have been, though I've behaved like a little beast and I couldn't never be in love with Lord Reddington if he was all made of gold. Take me away. Why, should I? asked the radiant lover a minute afterwards making a dissent into the practical. If it's a bargain, what's the good of running away from the misses? We shan't find such a soft job or such a good old girl again in a hurry. If we run away she won't have us back. But he's coming to-moral," interrupted Susan in a panic. A jolly good thing, too, declared Gibson. If you're going to give him the push the sooner the better, let him come. Give him the straight tip. In fact, I'm not sure," added Gibson meditatively, that he oughtn't to be made to part with a hundred pound for breach of promise. Cheer up and let him all come. No, no," cried Susan, terror-stricken. If I see him he'll turn me round his little finger. I shall be too scared to say a word. I shall be just like a stuck pig. Besides, he'll ask me about the letters. Letters? echoed Gibson. Yes, the letters. Oh, Tom, I've been so wicked. When his first letter came to tracks will be I copied the answer out of an old book. You can go now, if you want to," I murmured to Ruddington behind Arbush. But he only plucked at my hand and held it as in a vice while he listened with all his ears. Susan talked on. That old book with the covers off. But when I showed it to Miss Langley, she said it didn't sound right and she wrote out a lovely letter for me to copy and— Go ahead," said Gibson. And, oh, Tom, I told a lie. I pretended I didn't know I was to copy it out. I thought his lordship would make fun of my writing and give me up. So I posted it in—in Miss Langley's writing. Lord love us, put in Gibson in tones of awe. Yes, and Miss Langley was dreadfully angry, but when we'd begun we had to go on. I promised faithful that I would practice my writing, but I didn't play fair. So the missus has been helping him—demanded Gibson with a blaze of wrath—the missus wanted you to have him. No, no, the missus asked me. Asked what? She asked. Oh, Tom, she asked if I cared for you. And I told a lie and I said I didn't. Then she helped me. But she put it in all the letters that he must wait and that he mustn't come after me and that he mustn't persuade me and that I wouldn't marry him unless I could be in love with him. No, no, Tom. The missus has been splendid. What's he come for, then, if you told him he mustn't? Gibson asked less angrily. I don't know. But Tom—Tom, don't wait here, we shall be caught. Say yes or no. Would you take me away? Gibson's answer came boldly. Yes. Later on, he added, we will go back to England and be married at once. I have thirty pounds, said practical Susan. It's in Durningham Post Office. I've only got nineteen pounds seven and six, said Gibson glumly. Minds at Durningham, too. But what the deuce does it matter? He burst out, snatching her to him and challenging fate with the ringing bride. Susie, girl, I've got you. You're the grandest girl God ever made. It's all a lot of rot about those letters. You're giving him up all for me. Susie, girl, if I've to slave my head off to do it, I'll make you happy. If I don't, house, do good for me. I'll go through water and fire. Let's be off. We'll tell Madam all about it and she'll tell us what to do. Where's the bag? They turned and stooped to find it. In a twinkling I broke through the bush, tripped over the stones and stood on the other side of the beck. No, I cried, you shan't go. Susan screamed as if she had seen a ghost and tumbled cowering against Gibson's broad chest. As for Gibson himself after the first shock of astonishment he opposed to me a fearless front. Asking pardon, ma'am, he said respectfully but firmly, she shall. She shan't. I cried more firmly still. Susan, you shall not go. Asking pardon, ma'am, said Gibson again, we are not slaves. We shan't never forget your kindness, ma'am, and we don't hope to find the like again. But you are speaking to Susan's husband, ma'am, which isn't the same as the groom. Susan's going with me. Gibson, I said, not so fast. You talk as if I am against you both. Susan, have I ever done you wrong? Done me wrong, ma'am," he said harshly and with a darkening face, begging pardon, you've done me wrong this very day. You've broke your promise. He's coming to-morrow, and you didn't. I did, I said hastily. It'll be at gonfoe in the morning. I posted it to-day. Gibson, you say Susan will marry you. Susan, is it true? Yes, miss," said Susan faintly. It is true. Then, I said, why run away? Lord Ruddington has answered. Susan can't marry Gibson and Lord Ruddington too. You mean fair, ma'am," replied Gibson, and you wish as well. But you are a young lady, ma'am. Susan don't trust herself to meet him, and I don't neither. Gibson, Susan," I asked, what if I give you both my word that Lord Ruddington will not ask Susan to marry him, and that he will never write to her any more? With due respects, ma'am," Gibson answered, don't pledge your word to any such thing. I say it again, ma'am, you are a young lady. He's a man, and he's been about the world. If his lordships in love with Susan, and if he's come all the way to sin there in it to ask her, he won't be beat by the groom. You'll know more, turn Lord Ruddington back to moral, ma'am, than you'll turn me and Susan back to knight. Susan, let us go. I stepped forward to see her, but he waived me aside. Susan," I cried, Gibson, listen. Let Susan come to me for one minute. Something tremendous has happened to knight, and I am bound to let her know it. Susan, come here. When you have heard it you shall go with Gibson or come home with me, just as you think best. Before he could restrain her she slipped from his grasp and ran to my side. He followed. I threw my arm round her waist. If you please, ma'am," said Gibson tensely, standing almost as close to me as Susan, there's going to be no more secrets. What's right to be said at all can be said out loud. I considered. Then I spoke out clearly and loudly. Very well, have it so. But it would have been easier for Susan to hear it alone. Susan, there has been some dreadful, horrible mistake. It was not you, Susan, whom Lord Ruddington saw during him and in Traxelby Church. He was misinformed. He has never seen you in his life. He does not want to marry you. Susan stared at me first with a face as white as chalk. Then she reddened like a rose and moaned like one moonded with a choking moan. No, Miss Gertrude, no. She pleaded in anguish. Don't say it wasn't real. Don't say. My poor Susan, I answered, it wasn't real. But what does it matter? You have given him up for Gibson? No. She cried with a sudden burst of wild and terrible grief. I didn't, I didn't, I didn't. He wasn't mine to give. I hesitated, wondering whether to tell her that Ruddington had indeed been hers to give because he was willing to sacrifice himself to the end. But I decided not to try her poor wits any more. You are wrong, Susan, I said gently. It's true he wasn't yours to give. What you believed he was, it is all the same. Gibson, she gave up money and luxury and a splendid name all for you. And if you please, ma'am, demanded Gibson, how do we know all this is true? If it wasn't Susan he saw in Dirlingham who was it? If he didn't fall in love with Susan, who did he fall in love with? If he doesn't want to marry Susan, who is it that he does want to marry? No, ma'am, I'm not taking any more risks. Tomorrow perhaps, we shall find it Susan after all. I turned to beckon towards the high bush. But Ruddington was already over the stones. I saw him and held my tongue. He came so quietly, so masterfully that I knew I had only to listen and look on. You are Susan, he said kindly in her ear. Susan looked up and gave a piercing shriek. It's him, it's him! She screamed. Don't be afraid Susan, he said gently. Miss Langley has told you that you have no more to fear. Some other day you shall know all. Tonight let me just tell you on my honour that it was not my fault. If it had been my fault I should never forgive myself for causing you all this worrying pain. Depend on me to do all I can to make you and Gibson happy. Tell me that you will try to forgive me. Oh, sir! Panted Susan, I mean your lordship. So it wasn't never me at all? No, it was never you at all. She began to weep. Oh, your lordship! She gasped. Then who, who, who was it? I caught my breath. Gibson bent forward to be sure that all was well. Susan drew my free arm through his and smiled. Susan stared at us with wide eyes. Oh, Miss Gertrude! She cried with a great sob. Thank God! Both her warm arms were round my neck. Her soft, girlish breast pressed mine and I could feel her true heart beating wildly with grief and joy. Holding her to me as the mother holds a weeping child I felt strangely calm. I watched the moonlight dappling the ground under the tree. I heard the sounds of the night, the stirring leaves, the far-off plash of the waves, the soft croon of the wind, the swirl of the beck, and loudest of all my true-hearted Susan's sobs. Yes, I said softly, Susan, Gibson, thank God! For tonight he has been good to us all. When I, too, became as a little child, I broke down and sobbed in Susan's warm embrace till a strong arm clasped me round and led me tenderly away. End of Book Four, Part Three End of Susan by Ernest Oldmedow Recorded by Sidin Majore