Garnett D. Lady into fox

fed his hopes of her one day returning to be a woman. So the more anguish of
shame his vixen underwent, the greater his hopes rose, till his love and
pity for her increasing equally, he was almost wishing her to be nothing
more than a mere fox than to suffer so much by being half-human.
At last he looked about him somewhat dazed with so much weeping, then
set his vixen down on the ottoman, and began to dean up the room with a
heavy heart. He fetched a pail of water and washed out all the stains of
blood, gathered up the two antimacassars and fetched clean ones from the
other rooms. While he went about this work his vixen sal and watched him
very contritely with her nose between her two front paws, and when he had
done he brought in some luncheon for himself, though it was already late,
but none for her, she having lately so infamously feasted. But water he gave
her and a bunch of grapes. Afterwards she led him to the small tortoiseshell
cabinet and would have him open it. When he had done so she motioned to the
portable stereoscope which lay inside. Mr. Tebrick instantly fell in with
her wish and after a few trials adjusted it to her vision. Thus they spent
the rest of the afternoon together very happily looking through the
collection of views which he had purchased, of Italy, Spain and Scotland.
This diversion gave her great apparent pleasure and afforded him
considerable comfort But that night he could not prevail upon her to sleep
in bed with him, and finally allowed her to sleep on a mat beside the bed
where he could stretch down and touch her. So they passed the night, with
his hand upon her head.
The next morning he had more of a struggle than ever to wash and dress
her. Indeed at one time nothing but holding her by the scruff prevented her
from getting away from him, but at last he achieved his object and she was
washed, brushed, scented and dressed, although to be sure this left him
better pleased than her, for she regarded her silk Jacket with disfavour.
Still at breakfast she was well mannered though a trifle hasty with her
food. Then his difficulties with her began for she would go out, but as he
had his housework to do, he could not allow it He brought her picture books
to divert her, but she would have none of them but stayed at the door
scratching it with her claws industriously till she had worn away the paint.
At first he tried coaxing her and wheedling, gave her cards to play
patience and so on, but finding nothing would distract her from going out.
his temper began to rise, and he told her plainly that she roust wait his
pleasure and that he had as much natural obstinacy as she had. But to all
that he said she paid no heed whatever but only scratched the harder.
Thus he let her continue until luncheon, when she would not sit up, or
eat off a plate, but first was for getting on to the table, and when that
was prevented, snatched her meat and ate it under the table. To all his
rebukes she turned a deaf or sullen ear, and so they each finished their
meal eating little, either of them, for till she would sit at table he would
give her no more, and his vexation had taken away his own appetite. In the
afternoon he look her out for her airing in the garden.
She made no pretence now of enjoying the first snowdrops or the view
from the terrace. No — there was only one thing for her now — the
ducks, and she was off to them before he could stop her. Luckily they were
all swimming when she got there (for a stream running into the pond on the
far side it was not frozen there).
When he had got down to the pond, she ran out on to the ice, which
would not bear his weight, and though he called her and begged her to come
back she would not heed him but stayed frisking about, getting as near the
ducks as she dared, but being circumspect in venturing on to the thin ice.
Presently she turned on herself and began tearing off her clothes, and
at last by biting got off her little jacket and taking it in her mouth
stuffed it into a hole in the ice where he could not get it Then she ran
hither and thither a stark naked vixen, and without giving a glance to her
poor husband who stood silently now upon the bank, with despair and terror
settled in his mind. She let him stay there most of the afternoon till he
was chilled through and through and worn out with watching her. At last he
reflected how she had just stripped herself and how in the morning she
struggled against being dressed, and he thought perhaps he was too strict
with her and if he let her have her own way they could manage to be happy
somehow together even if she did eat off the floor. So he called out to her
then:
"Silvia, come now, be good, you shan't wear any more clothes if you
don't want to, and you needn't sit at table neither, I promise. You shall do
as you like in that, but you must give up one thing, and that is you must
stay with me and not go out alone, for that is dangerous. If any dog came on
you he would kill you."
Directly he had finished speaking she came to him joyously, began
fawning on him and prancing round him so that in spite of his vexation with
her, and being cold, he could not help stroking her.
"Oh, Silvia, are you not wilful and cunning? I see you glory in being
so, but I shall not reproach you but shall stick to my side of the bargain,
and you must stick to yours."
He built a big fire when he came back to the house and took a glass or
two of spirits also, to warm himself up, for he was chilled to the very
bone. Then, after they had dined, to cheer himself he took another glass,
and then another, and so on till he was very merry, he thought. Then he
would play with his vixen, she encouraging him with her pretty sportiveness.
He got up to catch her then and finding himself unsteady on his legs, he
went down on to all fours. The long and the short of it is that by drinking
he drowned all his sorrow; and then would be a beast too like his wife,
though she was one through no fault of her own, and could not help it To
what lengths he went then in that drunken humour I shall not offend my
readers by relating, but shall only. say that he was so drunk and sottish
that he had a very imperfect recollection of what had passed when he woke
the next morning.
There is no exception to the rule that if a man drink heavily at night
the next morning will show the other side to his nature. Thus with Mr.
Tebrick, for as he had been beastly, merry and a very daredevil the night
before, so on his awakening was he ashamed, melancholic and a true penitent
before his Creator. The first thing he did when he came to himself was to
call out to God to forgive him for his sin, then he fell into earnest prayer
and continued so for half-an-hour upon his knees. Then he got up and dressed
but continued very melancholy for the whole of the morning. Being in this
mood you may imagine it hurt him to see his wife running about naked, but he
reflected it would be a bad reformation that began with breaking faith. He
had made a bargain and he would stick to it, and so he let her be, though
sorely against his will.
For the same reason, that is because he would slick to his side of the
bargain, he did not require her to sit up at table, but gave her her
breakfast on a dish in the corner, where to tell the truth she on her side
ate it all up with great daintiness and propriety.
Nor she did make any attempt to go out of doors that morning, but lay
curled up in an armchair before the fire dozing. After lunch he took her
out, and she never so much as offered to go near the ducks, but running
before him led him on to take her a longer walk. This he consented to do
very much to her joy and delight. He took her through the fields by the most
unfrequented ways, being much alarmed lest they should be seen by anyone.
But by good luck they walked above four miles across country and saw nobody.
All the way hie wife kept running on ahead of him, and then back to him to
lick his hand and so on, and appeared delighted at taking exercise. And
though they started two or three rabbits and a hare in the course of their
walk she never attempted to go after them, only giving them a look and then
looking back to him, laughing at him as it were for his warning cry of
"Puss! come in, no nonsense now!"
Just when they got. home and were going into the porch they came face
to face with an old woman. Mr. Tebrick stopped short in consternation and
looked about for his vixen, but she had run forward without any shyness to
greet her. Then he recognised the intruder, it was his wife's old nurse.
"What are you doing here, Mrs. Cork?" he asked her. Mrs. Cork answered
him in these words:
"Poor thing. Poor Miss Silvia I It is a shame to let her run about like
a dog. It is a shame, and your own wife too. But whatever she looks like,
you should trust her the same as ever. If you do she'll do her best to be a
good wife to you, if you don't I shouldn't wonder if she did turn into a
proper fox. I saw her, sir, before I left, and I've had no peace of mind. I
couldn't sleep thinking of her. So I've come back to look after her, as I
have done all her life, sir," and she stooped down and took Mrs. Tebrick by
the paw.
Mr. Tebrick unlocked the door and they went in. When Mrs. Cork saw the
house she exclaimed again and again: "The place was a pigstye. They couldn't
live like that, a gentleman must have somebody to look after him. She would
do it He could trust her with the secret."
Had the old woman come the day before it is likely enough that Mr.
Tebrick would have sent her packing. But the voice of conscience being woken
in him by his drunkenness of the night before he was heartily ashamed of his
own management of the business, moreover the old woman's words that "it was
a shame to let her run about like a dog," moved him exceedingly. Being in
this mood the truth is he welcomed her.
But we may conclude that Mrs. Tebrick was as sorry to see her old Nanny
as her husband was glad. If we consider that she had been brought up
strictly by her when she was a child, and was now again in her power, and
that her old nurse could never be satisfied with her now whatever she did,
but would always think her wicked to be a fox at all, there seems good
reason for her dislike. And it is possible, too, that there may have been
another cause as well, and that is jealousy. We know her husband was always
trying to bring her back to be a woman, or at any rate to get her to act
like one, may she not have been hoping to get him to be like a beast himself
or to act like one? May she not have thought it easier to change him thus
than ever to change herself back into being a woman? If we think that she
had had a success of this kind only the night before, when he got drunk, can
we not conclude that this was indeed the case, and then we have another good
reason why the poor lady should hate to see her old nurse?
It is certain that whatever hopes Mr. Tebrick had of Mrs. Cork
affecting his wife for the better were disappointed. She grew steadily
wilder and after a few days so intractable with her that Mr. Tebrick again
took her under his complete control.
The first morning Mrs. Cork made her a new jacket, cutting down the
sleeves of a blue silk one of Mrs. Tebrick's and trimming it with swan's
down, and directly she had altered it, put it on her mistress, and fetching
a mirror would have her admire the fit of it. All the time she waited on
Mrs. Tebrick the old woman talked to her as though she were a baby, and
treated her as such, never thinking perhaps that she was either the one
thing or the other, that is either a lady to whom she owed respect and who
had rational powers exceeding her own, or else a wild creature on whom words
were wasted. But though at first she submitted passively, Mrs. Tebrick only
waited for her Nanny's back to be turned to tear up her pretty piece of
handiwork into shreds, and then ran gaily about waving her brush with only a
few ribands still hanging from her neck.
So it was time after time (for the old woman was used to having her own
way) until Mrs. Cork would, I think, have tried punishing her if she had not
been afraid of Mrs. Tebrick's rows of white teeth, which she often showed
her, then laughing afterwards, as if to say it was only play.
Not content with tearing off the dresses that were fitted on her, one
day Silvia slipped upstairs to her wardrobe and tore down all her old
dresses and made havoc with them, not sparing her wedding dress either, but
tearing and ripping them all up so that there was hardly a shred or rag left
big enough to dress a doll in. On this, Mr. Tebrick, who had let the old
woman have most of her management to see what she could make of her, took
her back under his own control.
He was sorry enough now that Mrs. Cork had disappointed him in the
hopes he had had of her, to have the old woman, as it were, on his hands.
True she could be useful enough in many ways to him, by doing the housework,
the cooking and mending, but still he was anxious since his secret was in
her keeping, and the more now that she had tried her hand with his wife and
failed. For he saw that vanity had kept her mouth shut if she had won over
her mistress to better ways, and her love for her would have grown by
getting her own way with her. But now that she had failed she bore her
mistress a grudge for not being won over, or at the best was become
indifferent to the business, so that she might very readily blab.
For the moment all Mr. Tebrick could do was to keep her from going into
Stokoe to the village, where she would meet all her old cronies and where
there were certain to be any number of inquiries about what was going on at
Rylands and so on. But as he saw that it was clearly beyond his power,
however vigilant he might be, to watch over the old woman and his wife, and
to prevent anyone from meeting with either of them, he began so consider
what he could best do.
Since he had sent away his servants and the gardener, giving out a
story of having received bad news and his wife going away to London where he
would join her, their probably going out of England and so on, he knew well
enough that there would be a great deal of talk in the neighbourhood.
And as he had now stayed on, contrary to what he had said, there would
be further rumour. Indeed, had he known it, there was a story already going
round the country that his wife had run away with Major Solmes, and that he
was gone mad with grief, that he had shot his dogs and his horses and shut
himself up alone in the house and would speak with no one. This story was
made up by his neigh' hours not because they were fanciful or wanted to
deceive, but like most tittle-tattle to fill a gap, as few like to confess
ignorance, and if people are asked about such or such a man they must have
something to say, or they suffer in everybody's opinion, are set down as
dull or "out of the swim." In this way I met not long ago with someone who,
after talking some little while and not knowing me or who I was, told me
that David Garnett was dead, and died of being bitten by a cat after he had
tormented it. He had long grown a nuisance to his friends as an exorbitant
sponge upon them, and the world was well rid of him.
Hearing this story of myself diverted me at the time, but I fully
believe it has served me in good stead since. For it set me on my guard as
perhaps nothing else would have done, against accepting for true all
floating rumour and village gossip, so that now I am by second nature a true
sceptic and scarcely believe anything unless the evidence for it is
conclusive. Indeed I could never have got to the bottom of this history if I
had believed one tenth part of what I was told, there was so much of it that
was either manifestly false and absurd, or else contradictory to the
ascertained facts. It is therefore only the bare bones of the story which
you will find written here, for I have rejected all the flowery embroideries
which would be entertaining reading enough, I daresay, for some, but if
there be any doubt of the truth of a thing it is poor sort of entertainment
to read about in my opinion.
To get back to our story: Mr. Tebrick having considered how much the
appetite of his neighbours would be whetted to find out the mystery by his
remaining in that part of the country, determined that the best thing he
could do was to remove.
After some time turning the thing over in his mind, he decided that no
place would be so good for his purpose as old Nanny's cottage. It was thirty
miles away from Stokoe, which in the country means as far as Timbuctoo does
to us in London. Then it was near Tangley, and his lady having known it from
her childhood would feel at home there, and also it was utterly remote,
there being no village near it or manor house other than Tangley Hall, which
was now untenanted for the greater part of the year. Nor did it mean
imparting his secret to others, for there was only Mrs. Cork's son, a
widower, who being out at work all day would be easily outwitted, the more
so as he was stone deaf and of a slow and saturnine disposition. To be sure
there was little Polly, Mrs. Cork's granddaughter, but either Mr. Tebrick
forgot her altogether, or else reckoned her as a mere baby and not to be
thought of as a danger.
He talked the thing over with Mrs. Cork, and they decided upon it out
of hand. The truth is the old woman was beginning to regret that her love
and her curiosity had ever brought her back to Rylands, since so far she had
got much work and little credit by it.
When it was settled, Mr. Tebrick disposed of the remaining business he
had at Rylands in the afternoon, and that was chiefly putting out his wife's
riding horse into the keeping of a farmer near by, for he thought he would
drive over with his own horse, and the other spare horse tandem in the
dogcart.
The next morning they locked up the house and they departed, having
first secured Mrs. Tebrick in a large wicker hamper where she would be
tolerably comfortable. This was for safety, for in the agitation of driving
she might jump out, and on the other hand, if a dog scented her and she were
loose, she might be in danger of her life. Mr. Tebrick drove with the hamper
beside him on the front seat, and spoke to her gently very often.
She was overcome by the excitement of the journey and kept poking her
nose first through one crevice, then through another, turning and twisting
the whole time and peeping out to see what they were passing. It was a
bitterly cold day, and when they had gone about fifteen miles they drew up
by the roadside to rest the horses and have their own luncheon, for he dared
not stop at an inn. He knew that any living creature in a hamper, even if it
be only an old fowl, always draws attention; there would be several loafers
most likely who would notice that he had a fox with him, and even if he left
the hamper in the cart the dogs at the inn would be sure to sniff out her
scent. So not to take any chances he drew up at the side of the road and
rested there, though it was freezing hard and a north-east wind howling.
He took down his precious hamper, unharnessed his two horses, covered
them with rugs and gave them their corn. Then he opened the basket and let
his wife out She was quite beside herself with joy, running hither and
thither, bouncing up on him, looking about her and even rolling over on the
ground. Mr. Tebrick took this to mean that she was glad at making this
journey and rejoiced equally with her. As for Mrs. Cork, she sat motionless
on the back seat of the dogcart well wrapped up, eating her sandwiches, but
would not speak a word. When they had stayed there half-an-hour Mr. Tebrick
harnessed the horses again, though he was so cold he could scarcely buckle
the straps, and put his vixen in her basket, but seeing that she wanted to
look about her, he let her tear away the osiers with her teeth till she had
made a hole big enough for her to put her head out of.
They drove on again and then the snow began to come down and that in
earnest, so (hat he began to be afraid they would never cover the ground.
But just after nightfall they got in, and he was content to leave
unharnessing the horses and baiting them to Simon, Mrs. Cork's son. His
vixen was tired by then, as well as he, and they slept together, he in the
bed and she under it, very contentedly.
The next morning he looked about him at the place and found the thing
there that he most wanted, and that was a little walled-in garden where his
wife could run in freedom and yet be in safety.
After they had had breakfast she was wild to go out into the snow. So
they went out together, and he had never seen such a mad creature in all his
life as his wife was then. For she ran to and fro as if she were crazy,
biting at the snow and rolling in it, and round and round in circles and
rushed back at him fiercely as if she meant to bite him. He joined her in
the frolic, and began snow-balling her till she was so wild that it was all
he could do to quiet her again and bring her indoors for luncheon. Indeed
with her gambollings she tracked the whole garden over with her feel; he
could sec where she had rolled in the snow and where she had danced in it,
and looking at those prints of her feet as they went in, made his heart
ache, he knew not why.
They passed the first day at old Nanny's cottage happily enough,
without their usual bickerings, and this because of the novelty of the snow
which had diverted them. In the afternoon he first showed his wife to little
Polly, who eyed her very curiously but hung back shyly and seemed a good
deal afraid of the fox. But Mr. Tebrick took up a book and let them gel
acquainted by themselves, and presently looking up saw that they had come
together and Polly was stroking his wife, patting her and running her
fingers through her fur. Presently she began talking to the fox, and then
brought her doll in to show her so that very soon they were very good
playmates together. Watching the two gave Mr. Tebrick great delight, and in
particular when he noticed that there was something very motherly in his
vixen. She was indeed far above the child in intelligence and restrained
herself too from any hasty action. But while she seemed to wait on Polly's
pleasure yet she managed to give a (wist to the game, whatever it was, that
never failed to delight the little girl. In short, in a very little while,
Polly was so taken with her new playmate that she cried when she was parted
from her and wanted her always with her. This disposition of Mrs. Tebrick's
made Mrs. Cork more agreeable than she had been lately either to the husband
or the wife.
Three days after they had come to the cottage the weather changed, and
they woke up one morning to find the snow gone, and the wind in the south,
and the sun shining, so that it was like the first beginning of spring.
Mr. Tebrick let his vixen out into (he garden after breakfast, stayed
with her awhile, and then went indoors to write some letters.
When he got out again he could see no sign of her anywhere, so that he
ran about bewildered, calling to her. At last he spied a mound of fresh
earth by the wall in one corner of the garden, and running thither found
that there was a hole freshly dug seeming to go under the wall. On this he
ran out of the garden quickly till he came to the other side of the wall,
but there was no hole there, so he concluded that she was not yet got
through. So it proved to be, for reaching down into the hole he felt her
brush with his hand, and could hear her distinctly working away with her
claws. He called to her then, saying: "Silvia, Silvia, why do you do this?
Are you trying to escape from me? I am your husband, and if I keep you
confined it is to protect you, not to let you run into danger. Show me how I
can make you happy and I will do it, but do not try to escape from me. I
love you, Silvia; is it because of that that you want to fly from me to go
into the world where you will be in danger of your life always? There are
dogs everywhere and they all would kill you if it were not for me. Come out,
Silvia, come out."
But Silvia would not listen to him, so he waited there silent. Then he
spoke to her in a different way, asking her had she forgot the bargain she
made with him that she would not go out alone, but now when she had all the
liberty of a garden to herself would she wantonly break her word? And he
asked her, were they not married? And had she not always found him a good
husband to her? But she heeded this neither until presently his temper
getting somewhat out of hand he cursed her obstinacy and told her if she
would be a damned fox she was welcome to it, for his part he could get his
own way. She had not escaped yet. He would dig her out for he still had
time, and if she struggled put her in a bag.
These words brought her forth instantly and she looked at him with as
much astonishment as if she knew not what could have made him angry. Yes,
she even fawned on him, but in a good-natured kind of way, as if she were a
very good wife putting up wonderfully with her husband's temper.
These airs of hers made the poor gentleman (so simple was he) repent
his outburst and feel most ashamed.
But for all that when she was out of the hole he filled it up with
great stones and beat them in with a crowbar so she should find her work at
that point harder than before if she was tempted to begin it again.
In the afternoon he let her go again into the garden but sent little
Polly with her to keep her company. But presently on looking out he saw his
vixen had climbed up into the limbs of an old pear-tree and was looking over
the wall, and was not so far from it but she might jump over it if she could
get a little further.
Mr. Tebrick ran out into the garden as quick as he could, and when his
wife saw him it seemed she was startled and made a false spring at the wall,
so that she missed reaching it and fell back heavily to the ground and lay
there insensible. When Mr. Tebrick got up to her he found her head was
twisted under her by her fall and the neck seemed to be broken. The shock
was so great to him that for some time he could not do anything, but knelt
beside her turning her limp body stupidly in his hands. At length he
recognised that she was indeed dead, and beginning to consider what dreadful
afflictions God had visited him with, he blasphemed horribly and called on
God to strike him dead, or give his wife back to him.
"Is it not enough," he cried, adding a foul blasphemous oath, "that you
should rob me of my dear wife, making her a fox, but now you must rob me of
that fox too, that has been my only solace and comfort in this affliction?"
Then he burst into tears and began wringing his hands and continued
there in such an extremity of grief for half-an-hour that he cared nothing,
neither what he was doing, nor what would become of him in the future, but
only knew that his life was ended now and he would not live any longer than
he could help.
All this while the little girl Polly stood by, first staring, then
asking him what had happened, and lastly crying with fear, but he never
heeded her nor looked at her but only tore his hair, sometimes shouted at
God, or shook his fist at Heaven. So in a fright Polly opened the door and
ran out of the garden.
At length worn out, and as it were all numb with his loss, Mr. Tebrick
got up and went within doors, leaving his dear fox lying near where she had
fallen.
He stayed indoors only two minutes and then came out again with a razor
in his hand intending to cut his own throat, for he was out of his senses.
in this first paroxysm of grief.
But his vixen was gone, at which he looked about for a moment
bewildered, and then enraged, thinking that somebody must have taken the
body,
The door of the garden being open he ran straight through it. Now this
door, which had been left ajar by Polly when she ran off, opened into a
little courtyard where the fowls were shut in at night; the woodhouse and
the privy also stood there. On the far side of it from the garden gate were
two large wooden doors big enough when open to let a cart enter, and high
enough to keep a man from looking over into the yard.
When Mr. Tebrick got into the yard he found his vixen leaping up at
these doors, and wild with tenor, but as lively as ever he saw her in his
life. He ran up to her but she shrank away from him, and would then have
dodged him too, but he caught hold of her. She bared her teeth at him but he
paid no heed to that, only picked her straight up into his arms and took her
so indoors. Yet all the while he could scarce believe his eyes to see her
living, and felt her all over very carefully to find if she had not some
bones broken. But no, he could find none. Indeed it was some hours before
this poor silly gentleman began to suspect the truth, which was that his
vixen had practised a deception upon him, and all the time he was bemoaning
his loss in such heartrending terms, she was only shamming death to run away
directly she was able. If it had not been that the yard gates were shut,
which was a mere chance, she had got her liberty by that trick. And that
this was only a trick of hers to sham dead was plain when he had thought it
over. Indeed it is an old and time-honoured trick of the fox. It is in Aesop
and a hundred other writers have confirmed it since. But so thoroughly had
he been deceived by her, that at first he was as much overcome with joy at
his wife still being alive, as he had been with grief a little while before,
thinking her dead.
He took her in his arms, hugging her to him and thanking God a dozen
times for her preservation. But his kissing and fondling her had very little
effect now, for she did not answer him by licking or soft looks, but stayed
huddled up and sullen, with her hair bristling on her neck and her cars laid
back every time he touched her. At first he thought this might be because he
had touched some broken bone or lender place where she had been hurt, but at
last the truth came to him.
Thus he was again to suffer, and though the pain of knowing her
treachery to him was nothing to the grief of losing her, yet it was more
insidious and lasting. At first, from a mere nothing, this pain grew
gradually until it was a torture to him. If he had been one of your stock
ordinary husbands, such a one who by experience has learnt never to inquire
too closely into his wife's doings, her comings or goings, and never to ask
her, "How she has spent the day?" for fear he should be made the more of a
fool, had Mr. Tebrick been such a one he had been luckier, and his pain
would have been almost nothing. But you must consider that he had never been
deceived once by his wife in the course of their married life. No, she had
never told him as much as one white lie, but had always been frank, open and
ingenuous as if she and her husband were not husband and wife, or indeed of
opposite sexes. Yet we must rate him as very foolish, that living thus with
a fox, which beast has the same reputation for deceitfulness, craft and
cunning, in all countries, all ages, and amongst all races of mankind, he
should expect this fox to be as candid and honest with him in all things as
the country girl he had married.
His wife's sullenness and bad temper continued that day, for she
cowered away from him and hid under the sofa, nor could he persuade her to
come out from there. Even when it was her dinner time she stayed, refusing
resolutely to be tempted out with food, and lying so quiet that he heard
nothing from her for hours. At night he carried her up to the bedroom, but
she was still sullen and refused to eat a morsel, though she drank a little
water during the night, when she fancied he was asleep.
The next rooming was the same, and by now Mr. Tebrick had been through
all the agonies of wounded self-esteem, disillusionment and despair that a
man can suffer. But though his emotions rose up in his heart and nearly
stifled him he showed no sign of them to her, neither did he abate one jot
his tenderness and consideration for his vixen. At breakfast he tempted her
with a freshly killed young pullet It hurt him to make this advance to her,
for hitherto he had kept her strictly on cooked meats, but the pain of
seeing her refuse it was harder still for him to bear. Added to this was now
an anxiety lest she should starve herself to death rather than slay with him
any longer.
All that morning he kept her close, but in the afternoon let her loose
again in the garden after he had lopped the pear-tree so that she could not
repeat her performance of climbing.
But seeing how disgustedly she looked while he was by, never offering
to run or to play as she was used, but only standing stock still with her
tail between her legs, her ears flattened, and the hair bristling on her
shoulders, seeing this he left her to herself out of mere humanity.
When he came out after half-an-hour he found that she was gone, but
there was a fair sized hole by the wall, and she just buried all but her
brush, digging desperately to get under the wall and make her escape.
He ran up to the hole, and put his arm in after her and called to her
to come out, but she would not So at first he began pulling her out by the
shoulder, then his hold slipping, by the hind legs. As soon as he had drawn
her forth she whipped round and snapped at his hand and bit it through near
the joint of the thumb, but let it go instantly.
They stayed there for a minute facing each other, he on his knees and
she facing him the picture of unrepentant wickedness and fury. Being thus on
his knees, Mr. Tebrick was down on her level very nearly, and her muzzle was
thrust almost into his face. Her ears lay flat on her head, her gums were
bared in a silent snarl, and all her beautiful teeth threatening him that
she would bite him again. Her back loo was half-arched, all her hair
bristling and her brush held droop. ing. But it was her eyes that held his,
with their slit pupils looking at him with savage desperation and rage.
The blood ran very freely from his hand but he never noticed that or
the pain of it either, for all his thoughts were for his wife.
"What is this, Silvia?" he said very quietly, "what is this? Why are
you so savage now? If I stand between you and your freedom it is because I
love you. Is it such torment to be with me?" But
Silvia never stirred a muscle.
"You would not do this if you were not in anguish, poor beast, you want
your freedom. I cannot keep you, I cannot hold you to vows made when you
were a woman. Why, you have forgotten who I am."
The tears then began running down his cheeks, he sobbed, and said to
her:
"Go — I shall not keep you. Poor beast, poor beast, I love you, I
love you. Go if you want to. But if you remember me come back. I shall never
keep you against your will. Go—go. But kiss me now."
He leant forward then and put his lips to her snarling fangs, but
though she kept snarling she did not bite him. Then he got up quickly and
went to the door of the garden that opened into a little paddock against a
wood.
When he opened it she went through it like an arrow, crossed the
paddock like a puff of smoke and in a moment was gone from his sight. Then,
suddenly finding himself alone, Mr. Tebrick came as it were to himself and
ran after her, calling her by name and shouting to her, and so went plunging
into the wood, and through it for about a mile, running almost blindly.
At last when he was worn out he sat down, seeing that she had gone
beyond recovery and it was already night Then, rising, he walked slowly
homewards, wearied and spent in spirit As he went he bound up his hand that
was still running with blood. His coat was torn, his hat lost, and his face
scratched right across with briars. Now in cold blood he began to reflect on
what he had done and to repent bitterly having set his wife free. He had
betrayed her so that now, from his act, she must lead the life of a wild fox
for ever, and must undergo all the rigours and hardships of the climate, and
all the hazards of a hunted creature. When Mr. Tebrick got back to the
cottage he found Mrs. Cork was silting up for him. It was already late.
"What have you done with Mrs. Tebrick, sir? I missed her, and I missed
you, and I have not known what to do, expecting something dreadful had
happened. I have been sitting up for you half the night. And where is she
now, sir?"
She accosted him so vigorously that Mr. Tebrick stood silent At length
he said: "I have let her go. She has run away."
"Poor Miss Silvia 1" cried the old woman. "Poor creature! You ought to
be ashamed, sir I Let her go indeed I Poor lady, is that the way for her
hus-band to talk I It is a disgrace. But I saw it coming from the first"
The old woman was white with fury, she did not mind what she said, but
Mr. Tebrick was not listening to her. At last he looked at her and saw that
she had just begun to cry, so he went out of the room and up to bed, and lay
down as he was, in his clothes, utterly exhausted, and fell into a dog's
sleep, starting up every now and then with horror, and then falling back
with fatigue. It was late when he woke up, but cold and raw, and he felt
cramped in all his limbs. As he lay he heard again the noise which had woken
him—the trotting of several horses, and the voices of men riding by the
house. Mr. Tebrick jumped up and ran to the window and then looked out, and
the first thing that he saw was a gentleman in a pink coat Tiding at a walk
down the lane. At this sight Mr. Tebrick wailed no longer, but pulling on
his boots in mad haste, ran out instantly, meaning to say that they must not
hunt, and how his wife was escaped and they might kill hen
But when he found himself outside the cottage words failed him and fury
look possession of him, so (hat he could only cry out:
"How dare you, you damned blackguard?" And so, with a stick in his
hand, he threw himself on the gentleman in the pink coat and seized his
horse's rein, and catching the gentleman by the leg was trying to throw him.
But really it is impossible to say what Mr. Tebrick intended by his
behaviour or what he would have done, for the gentleman finding himself
suddenly assaulted in so unexpected a fashion by so strange a tousled and
dishevelled figure, clubbed his hunting crop and dealt him a blow on the
temple so that he fell insensible.
Another gentleman rode up at this moment and they were civil enough to
dismount and carry Mr. Tebrick into the cottage, where they were met by old
Nanny who kept wringing her hands and told them Mr. Tebrick's wife had run
away and she was a vixen, and that was the cause that Mr. Tebrick had run
out and assaulted them.
The two gentlemen could not help laughing at this, and mounting their
horses rode on without delay, after telling each other that Mr. Tebrick,
whoever he was, was certainly a madman, and the old woman seemed as mad as
her master.
This story, however, went the rounds of the gentry in those parts and
perfectly confirmed everyone in their previous opinion, namely that Mr.
Tebrick was mad and his wife had run away from him. The part about her being
a vixen was laughed at by the few that heard it, but was soon left out as
immaterial to the story, and incredible in itself, though afterwards it came
to be remembered and its significance to be understood.
When Mr. Tebrick came to himself it was past noon, and his head was
aching so painfully that he could only call to mind in a confused way what
had happened.
However, he sent off Mrs. Cork's son directly on one of his horses to
inquire about the hunt.
At the same time he gave orders to old Nanny that she was to put out
food and water for her mistress, on the chance that she might yet be in the
neighbourhood.
By nightfall Simon was back with the news that the hunt had had a very
long run but had lost one fox, then, drawing a covert, had chopped an old
dog fox, and so ended the day's sport.
This put poor Mr. Tebrick in some hopes again, and he rose at once from
his bed, and went out to the wood and began calling his wife, but was
overcome with faintness, and lay down and so passed the night in the open,
from mere weakness.
In the morning he got back again to the cottage but he had taken a
chill, and so had to keep his bed for three or four days after.
All this time he had food put out for her every night, but though rats
came to it and ale of it, there were never any prints of a fox.
At last his anxiety began working another way, that is he came to think
it possible that his vixen would have gone back to Stokoe, so he had his
horses harnessed in the dogcart and brought to the door and then drove over
to Rylands, though he was still in a fever, and with a heavy cold upon him.
After that he lived always solitary, keeping away from his fellows and
only seeing one man, called Askew, who had been brought up a Jockey at
Wantage, but was grown too big for his profession. He mounted this loafing
fellow on one of his horses three days a week and had him follow the hunt
and report to him whenever they killed, and if he could view the fox so much
the better, and then he made him describe it minutely, so he should know if
it were his Silvia. But he dared not trust himself to go himself, lest his
passion should master him and he might commit a murder.
Every time there was a hunt in the neighbourhood he set the gates wide
open at Rylands and the house doors also, and taking his gun stood sentinel
in the hope that his wife would run in if she were pressed by the hounds,
and so he could save her.
But only once a hunt came near, when two foxhounds that had lost the
main pack strayed on to his land and he shot them instantly and buried them
afterwards himself.
It was not long now to the end of the season, as it was the middle of
March.
But living as he did at this time, Mr. Tebrick grew more and more to be
a true misanthrope. He denied admittance to any that came to visit him, and
rarely showed himself to his fellows, but went out chiefly in the early
mornings before people were about, in the hope of seeing his beloved fox.
Indeed it was only this hope that he would see her again that kept him
alive, for he had become so careless of his own comfort in every way that he
very seldom ate a proper meal, taking no more than a crust of bread with a
morsel of cheese in the whole day, though sometimes he would drink half a
bottle of whiskey to drown his sorrow and to get off to sleep, for sleep
fled from him, and no sooner did he begin dozing but he awoke with a start
thinking he had heard something. He let his beard grow too, and though he
had always been very particular in his person before, he now was utterly
careless of it, gave up washing himself for a week or two at a stretch, and
if there was dirt under his finger nails let it stop there.
All this disorder fed a malignant pleasure in him. For by now he had
come to hale his fellow men and was embittered against all human decencies
and decorum. For strange to tell he never once in these months regretted his
dear wife whom he had so much loved. No, all that he grieved for now was his
departed vixen. He was haunted all this time not by the memory of a sweet
and gentle woman, but by the recollection of an animal; a beast it is true
that could sit at table and play piquet when it would, but for all that
nothing really but a wild beast His one hope now was the recovery of this
beast, and of this he dreamed continually. Likewise both waking and sleeping
he was visited by visions of her; her mask, her full white-tagged brush,
white throat, and the thick fur in her ears all haunted him.
Every one of her foxey ways was now so absolutely precious to him that
I believe that if he had known for certain she was dead, and had thoughts of
marrying a second time, he would never have been happy with a woman. No,
indeed, he would have been more tempted to get himself a tame fox, and would
have counted that as good a marriage as he could make.
Yet this all proceeded one may say from a passion, and a true conjugal
fidelity, that it would be hard to find matched in this world. And though we