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The Forsyte Saga, Volume 3(83)

By:John Galsworthy


Hilary nodded.

They lay watching. Part of the weald was visible, rich with colour on that sunny autumn day. The grass, after heavy morning dew, was scented still; the sky of the dim spiritual blue that runs almost to white above the chalky downs. And the day was silent well-nigh to breathlessness. The brothers waited without speaking.

Ferse had reached the level at the bottom; they could see him dejectedly moving across a rough field towards a spinney. A pheasant rose just in front of him; they saw him start, as if wakened from a dream, and stand watching its rising flight.

‘I expect he knows every foot round here,’ said Adrian: ‘he was a keen sportsman.’ And just then Ferse threw up his hands as if they held a gun. There was something oddly reassuring in that action.

‘Now,’ said Hilary, as Ferse disappeared in the spinney, ‘run!’ They dashed down the hill, and hurried along over rough ground.

‘Suppose,’ gasped Adrian, ‘that he’s stopped in the spinney.’

‘Risk it! Gently now, till we can see the rise.’

About a hundred yards beyond the spinney, Ferse was plodding slowly up the hill.

‘All right so far,’ murmured Hilary, ‘we must wait till that rise flattens out and we lose sight of him. This is a queer business, old boy, for you and me. And at the end of it, as Fleur said: What?’

‘We must know,’ said Adrian.

‘We’re just losing him now. Let’s give him five minutes. I’ll time it.’

That five minutes seemed interminable. A jay squawked from the wooded hillside, a rabbit stole out and squatted in front of them; faint shiverings of air passed through the spinney.

‘Now!’ said Hilary. They rose, and breasted the grass rise at a good pace. ‘If he comes back on his tracks, here –’

‘The sooner it’s face to face the better,’ said Adrian, ‘but if he sees us following he’ll run, and we shall lose him.’

‘Go slow, old man. It’s beginning to flatten.’

Cautiously they topped the rise. The Down now dipped a little to where a chalky track ran above a beech wood to their left. There was no sign of Ferse.

‘Either he’s gone into the wood or he’s through that next thicket, and on the rise again. We’d better hurry and make sure.’

They ran along the track between deep banks, and were turning into the brush, when the sound of a voice not twenty yards ahead jerked them to a standstill. They dropped back behind the bank and lay breathless. Somewhere in the thicket Ferse was muttering to himself. They could hear no words, but the voice gave them both a miserable feeling.

‘Poor chap!’ whispered Hilary: ‘shall we go on, and try to comfort him?’

‘Listen!’

There was the sound as of a branch cracking underfoot, a muttered oath, and then with appalling suddenness a huntsman’s scream. It had a quality that froze the blood. Adrian said:

‘Pretty ghastly! But he’s broken covert.’

Cautiously they moved into the thicket; Ferse was running for the Down that rose from the end of it.

‘He didn’t see us, did he?’

‘No, or he’d be looking back. Wait till we lose sight of him again.’

‘This is poor work,’ said Hilary, suddenly, ‘but I agree with you it’s got to be done. That was a horrible sound! But we must know exactly what we’re going to do, old man.’

‘I was thinking,’ said Adrian, ‘if we could induce him to come back to Chelsea, we’d keep Diana and the children away, dismiss the maids, and get him special attendants. I’d stay there with him till it was properly fixed. It seems to me that his own house is the only chance.’

‘I don’t believe he’ll come of his free will.’

‘In that case, God knows! I won’t have a hand in caging him.’

‘What if he tries to kill himself?’

‘That’s up to you, Hilary.’

Hilary was silent.

‘Don’t bet on my cloth,’ he said, suddenly; ‘a slum parson is pretty hard-boiled.’

Adrian gripped his hand. ‘He’s out of sight now.’

‘Come on, then!’

They crossed the level at a sharp pace and began mounting the rise. Up there the character of the ground changed, the hill was covered sparsely by hawthorn bushes, and yew trees, and bramble, with here and there a young beech. It gave good cover and they moved more freely.

‘We’re coming to the cross-roads above Bignor,’ murmured Hilary. ‘He might take the track down from there. We could easily lose him!’

They ran, but suddenly stood still behind a yew tree.

‘He’s not going down,’ said Hilary: ‘Look!’