IX
Athome, meanwhile, they were living in a whirl of conflicting rumours, fears, hopes, which changed their faces with every edition of the papers, but possessed one lowest common denominator in an intense and ever-increasing anxiety.
Mr Dare wore a very grave face in these days; and as his wife understood—to some extent at all events—the difficulties he had to wrestle with in consequence of the total cessation of business with the Continent, she found it no easy matter to keep as cheerful a heart as she would have wished, but bravely did her best that way.
One quick glance at her husband’s face, when he came in of a night, told her more than all the papers, and the news was never encouraging.
Every evening, the Colonel, possessed of a firm belief in the efficacy of the commercial barometer as an index of the political outlook, came in to gather John Dare’s latest observations of it. And he too could tell with one glance at John Dare’s face how things were going.
When Mr Dare was late, as often happened, he generally found the Colonel sitting there waiting for him and doing his best meanwhile to cheer Mrs Dare. But, try as they all might, their cheerfulness was of a gray autumnal character which foresaw wintry weather before any hope of Spring.
From the mere business point of view the fact of Great Britain being dragged into the mêlée could not make matters very much worse for Mr Dare than they were. But that dreadful possibility entailed others of so intimate a character that it was impossible to close one’s eyes to them.
“I wish those two were safely home,” said Mrs Dare, busy with her sewing one evening, as the Colonel, in Mr Dare’s easy chair, sat waiting with her for its proper occupant’s arrival.
“I’m sure you needn’t worry about them, dear Mrs Dare,” said the Colonel emphatically. “Ray knows his way about and they’ll be perfectly all right. We may get a wire from them at any moment saying they’ll be here in an hour.”
“I’m surprised we’ve had no word of any kind since Ray left.”
“I expect things are all upside down all over the Continent. We’ll hear from them all right in time.”
Then Mr Dare came in and they saw by his face that the City barometer was still at stormy.
“Rumours galore,” was his report, “and mostly disturbing. Sir Edward Grey is doing everything in his power for peace, but the general feeling is that the Kaiser means war, and the City is preparing for it. Bank-rate is up to 4. It may be 8 to-morrow. Consols down to 70. Everything is in suspense. No business doing.”
“And what do they say as to our being dragged in?” asked the Colonel anxiously.
“General idea is that only a miracle can keep us out, and that miracles aren’t common.”
“Any talk of mobilising?—fleet and army?”
“No orders yet, as far as one can learn, but there is little doubt word has been sent round to be ready. I saw Guards marching through this morning. In fact there is an undoubted sense of war in the air.”
“And how do they feel as to our preparedness, if it comes to that?”
At which Mr Dare shook his head. “Not a doubt as to our readiness at sea. But on land——” he shrugged discomfortingly, “Well, the general feeling is that what we have is good, but so small as to be of very little account among the huge masses that may be engaged over there. They say there may be ten million menfighting——”
“How awful!” said Mrs Dare. “Ten millions! And all with relatives of one kind or another! Just think of the aftermath—the suffering and misery! I am not a violent person, but, truly, there is no ill I could not wish for the men who bring such a horror about.”
“They’ll suffer!” said the Colonel.
“We too,” said Mr Dare soberly. “And here is how it comes home to us. If we’re drawn in there will be an urgent call for moremen——”
“Quite right!” said the Colonel. “If you’d listened to advice we’d have had ’em ready. Now we shall have to do the best we can with what we can get.”
“The Territorials will bemobilised——”
“But they are surely for home defence,” said Mrs Dare.
“They will be needed at the front. Presumably the choice will be given them.”
“And they’ll go,” said the Colonel. “They’re not half as bad as some folks have been trying to make out, and this will buck them up to top notch.”
“That means your Ray will be in it.”
“He wouldn’t be my Ray unless he was, sir.”
“And our Noel. He’s been at us for days past for permission to join,” said Mrs Dare without enthusiasm.
“He’ll go London Scottish with Ray of course. Good lad!”
“He was up seeing about it to-day,” said Mr Dare. “And he’s hoping he can get into the Second Battalion if they form one. He’s put down his name for it anyway and I suppose he’ll have to go. I never knew him so keen on anything in his life before.”
“Good lad!—The right sort! Does honour to his parents.”
“And Con is expecting to be called up,” said Mrs Dare.
“And I bet you Alma will want to be in it. Our two families are doing their duty. Da-ash it! If all the others would come up to the scratch as well there’d be no lack of fighting-men.”
“And suppose they none of them come back,” said Mrs Dare forebodingly.
“One never supposes such things, ma’am. If they go, they go to the duty God has called them to. And if they never come back they’ll have done their best for their King and their country, and that is the noblest thing any man or woman can do.”
“I know, Colonel, but ... all the same, it would be very sore to lose them.”
“It would be sorer still for Germany to ride rough-shod over England. They’re great fighters, and if it comes it’ll be hot work. Thank God, they’re not barbarians, however, and they’ll fight decently and respect the rules of the game.”
But even in that thought Mrs Dare found but little comfort, and try as she might she could not attain to the Colonel’s altruistic heights of patriotism.
“It is different,” she said to herself. “After all, his two are not bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh, and that makes all the difference in the world.”
“Where are they all to-night?” asked Mr Dare. For the thought that before very long partings might come unconsciously distilled within him a curious little desire to know they were still within reach. “Noel came up to have lunch with me and to tell me about the London Scottish. I understood he was coming straight home.”
“He came and told me about it,” said Mrs Dare. “It has given him a new zest in life. He was on the links all afternoon, and then he insisted on taking the girls into town to ‘When Knights were Bold.’”
“H’m!” said Mr Dare. “I must be out of touch with eighteen and a half. I can’t say I feel like the theatre myself.”
“Young blood runs red,” said the Colonel. “The jump in it that makes him want to go to the theatre will help him through tight places later on.”
“Do you think it will be a long business, Colonel?” asked Mrs Dare, in pursuance of her own thoughts.
“Hard to say, ma’am. Personally I should be inclined to say not. The expense of all those men in the field will be so enormous,—to say nothing of the upsetting of business and life generally. One or two tremendous battles and it may be over. War is full of surprises. One side or the other may crumple up unexpectedly and cry ‘enough.’ On the other hand it is not easy to think of Germany doing that, after all her bumptiousness. And I’d hate to think of France and Russia giving in. Auntie Mitt is hard at work knitting winter socks and comforters, and Balaclava helmets.”
“Goodness me! Does she think it will last as long as that?”
“She says she remembers hearing they were badly wanted in the Crimea,—which was a fact. I’ve been hinting to her that she probably remembers making them at that time, and, being a good Conservative, instinct impels her to do as she did then.”
“Too bad!” smiled Mrs Dare. “She could hardly have knitted for the Crimea.”
“I’m not so sure of that. She’s frightfully close and touchy about her age. She’s wonderfully well-preserved, and she’s a good little soul, but I do enjoy chaffing her. It’s a pleasure to see the prim and extremely lady-like way in which she takes it. She always makes me feel like a little boy at school again. You’ve no definite word from Con yet?”
“He’s all ready packed to start at a moment’s notice, and is quite sure he will have to go. Nothing more than that. It’s all very disturbing to one’s peace of mind.”
“Not half as disturbing, ma’am, as if the Germans got across here. Let us be thankful that if there is to be fighting it’ll be on the other side of the water. Business is quite at a standstill, I suppose, Dare?”
“Mine is, and most other people’s. If the mere threat of war curdles things up like this it’s hard to imagine what they’ll be like if it actually comes.”
“It’ll be a case of everybody helping everybody else,” said the Colonel, gallantly and meaningly, and on that note jumped up to go. “I must run along and see how Auntie Mitt’s getting on with those Balaclava helmets!” he said, and shook hands with them warmly, and went.