this is mad. What about Mr Crean-Smith, why doesn’t he-‘
‘Rescue her? It is at his will that she is shut up.’
‘I don’t understand at all,’ said Marian. She felt again the sick panic which had gripped her by the gateway, and which she had felt prophetically upon the first day. ‘Is Mrs Crean-Smith - ill - I mean insane, or dangerous, or anything?’
‘No.’
‘Well then, why is she shut up? People can’t be just shut up. We’re not living in the Middle Ages.’
‘We are here. But never mind. She is shut up by her husband because she deceived him and tried to kill him.’
‘Oh God -‘ She was far beyond curiosity now. She felt sheerly frightened of the story to come as if it might shake her reason. She was for a moment on the point of stopping him.
But he went on in a low voice. ‘I had better tell you all in order. Now that I have told you this much. It is quickly enough told. And God forgive me if I do wrong. It was like this. Hannah Crean-Smith is a rich woman, was a rich girl, rich in her own right, of the landowning families of this part. This house, for instance, and all this land for miles belongs to her. And she married very young, married her first cousin, Peter Crean-Smith. He was, God forgive me if I wrong him, a brute of a young man, though a charming one, a drinker and a runner after women and violent to his wife and other things more. It was not a good marriage. She was unhappy, and so it went on. They were at this house often enough, for he loved the fishing and the shooting and that. And so it went on. And then there came Philip Lejour.’
‘Philip Lejour?’
‘Yes. Him they call Pip Lejour. Old Mr Lejour’s son. Young Mr Lejour bought Riders then, when it was a wreck of a place, bought it for a song, to use it as a hunting-lodge, and he rented the shooting and the fishing, and so he and Mr Crean-Smith were acquainted and Mrs Crean-Smith too. The men would be often shooting together. That would be nine years or so ago. Then Mr Crean-Smith went away to America on business. I suppose it was on business, though I know nothing of his business apart from being a rich young man. And when he went away Mrs Crean-Smith and Mr Lejour fell in love with each other, and they made love to each other.’
He paused and again flashed the torch. The garden was utterly silent.
‘This was how it was for a time, and Mr Crean-Smith knew nothing about it. How long a time I don’t know, and I don’t know what Mrs Crean-Smith would have done. But one day Mr Crean-Smith came back unexpectedly, came back here to Gaze, and found his wife in the bed with young Mr Lejour.’ He paused. ‘That was seven years ago.’
He was silent then for a while as if rapt entirely into the story. He went on. ‘I told you that Mr Crean-Smith was a violent man. Is, for he still is. God forgive me if I wrong him. He was very violent then.’
‘To Mr Lejour?’
‘To his wife.’
He seemed for a moment choked to silence by emotion. He continued. ‘He kept her then in the house, kept her locked in.’
‘What did Mr Lejour do?’
‘He went away. What could he do? He would have taken her off, he would have rescued her. She knew that. There were letters, there were people to bring letters, though they risked terrible treatment from him, from the husband. But she would not come.’
‘Why not? If Mr Crean-Smith was so -‘
‘She was married to him in a church.’
‘Yes, but still, when -‘
‘How can we know her mind? Perhaps she was afraid of him, and she must indeed have been terribly afraid of him. It would not have been easy even to leave the house. She was guarded, she was watched. Besides, to leave her husband, to go into the world - remember she married very young. Possibly she simply would not. Perhaps she felt, for it all, guilt, sorrow, even then.’
‘Even then-?’
‘Something else happened. What I told you was only a little
‘Rescue her? It is at his will that she is shut up.’
‘I don’t understand at all,’ said Marian. She felt again the sick panic which had gripped her by the gateway, and which she had felt prophetically upon the first day. ‘Is Mrs Crean-Smith - ill - I mean insane, or dangerous, or anything?’
‘No.’
‘Well then, why is she shut up? People can’t be just shut up. We’re not living in the Middle Ages.’
‘We are here. But never mind. She is shut up by her husband because she deceived him and tried to kill him.’
‘Oh God -‘ She was far beyond curiosity now. She felt sheerly frightened of the story to come as if it might shake her reason. She was for a moment on the point of stopping him.
But he went on in a low voice. ‘I had better tell you all in order. Now that I have told you this much. It is quickly enough told. And God forgive me if I do wrong. It was like this. Hannah Crean-Smith is a rich woman, was a rich girl, rich in her own right, of the landowning families of this part. This house, for instance, and all this land for miles belongs to her. And she married very young, married her first cousin, Peter Crean-Smith. He was, God forgive me if I wrong him, a brute of a young man, though a charming one, a drinker and a runner after women and violent to his wife and other things more. It was not a good marriage. She was unhappy, and so it went on. They were at this house often enough, for he loved the fishing and the shooting and that. And so it went on. And then there came Philip Lejour.’
‘Philip Lejour?’
‘Yes. Him they call Pip Lejour. Old Mr Lejour’s son. Young Mr Lejour bought Riders then, when it was a wreck of a place, bought it for a song, to use it as a hunting-lodge, and he rented the shooting and the fishing, and so he and Mr Crean-Smith were acquainted and Mrs Crean-Smith too. The men would be often shooting together. That would be nine years or so ago. Then Mr Crean-Smith went away to America on business. I suppose it was on business, though I know nothing of his business apart from being a rich young man. And when he went away Mrs Crean-Smith and Mr Lejour fell in love with each other, and they made love to each other.’
He paused and again flashed the torch. The garden was utterly silent.
‘This was how it was for a time, and Mr Crean-Smith knew nothing about it. How long a time I don’t know, and I don’t know what Mrs Crean-Smith would have done. But one day Mr Crean-Smith came back unexpectedly, came back here to Gaze, and found his wife in the bed with young Mr Lejour.’ He paused. ‘That was seven years ago.’
He was silent then for a while as if rapt entirely into the story. He went on. ‘I told you that Mr Crean-Smith was a violent man. Is, for he still is. God forgive me if I wrong him. He was very violent then.’
‘To Mr Lejour?’
‘To his wife.’
He seemed for a moment choked to silence by emotion. He continued. ‘He kept her then in the house, kept her locked in.’
‘What did Mr Lejour do?’
‘He went away. What could he do? He would have taken her off, he would have rescued her. She knew that. There were letters, there were people to bring letters, though they risked terrible treatment from him, from the husband. But she would not come.’
‘Why not? If Mr Crean-Smith was so -‘
‘She was married to him in a church.’
‘Yes, but still, when -‘
‘How can we know her mind? Perhaps she was afraid of him, and she must indeed have been terribly afraid of him. It would not have been easy even to leave the house. She was guarded, she was watched. Besides, to leave her husband, to go into the world - remember she married very young. Possibly she simply would not. Perhaps she felt, for it all, guilt, sorrow, even then.’
‘Even then-?’
‘Something else happened. What I told you was only a little
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