Kabanata Kabanata 5 · THE WHITE WORM

. THE WHITE WORM

Mr. Salton introduced Adam to Mr. Watford and his grand-daughters, and

they all moved on together. Of course neighbours in the position of the

Watfords knew all about Adam Salton, his relationship, circumstances, and

prospects. So it would have been strange indeed if both girls did not

dream of possibilities of the future. In agricultural England, eligible

men of any class are rare. This particular man was specially eligible,

for he did not belong to a class in which barriers of caste were strong.

So when it began to be noticed that he walked beside Mimi Watford and

seemed to desire her society, all their friends endeavoured to give the

promising affair a helping hand. When the gongs sounded for the banquet,

he went with her into the tent where her grandfather had seats. Mr.

Salton and Sir Nathaniel noticed that the young man did not come to claim

his appointed place at the dais table; but they understood and made no

remark, or indeed did not seem to notice his absence.

Lady Arabella sat as before at Edgar Caswall's right hand. She was

certainly a striking and unusual woman, and to all it seemed fitting from

her rank and personal qualities that she should be the chosen partner of

the heir on his first appearance. Of course nothing was said openly by

those of her own class who were present; but words were not necessary

when so much could be expressed by nods and smiles. It seemed to be an

accepted thing that at last there was to be a mistress of Castra Regis,

and that she was present amongst them. There were not lacking some who,

whilst admitting all her charm and beauty, placed her in the second rank,

Lilla Watford being marked as first. There was sufficient divergence of

type, as well as of individual beauty, to allow of fair comment; Lady

Arabella represented the aristocratic type, and Lilla that of the

commonalty.

When the dusk began to thicken, Mr. Salton and Sir Nathaniel walked

home--the trap had been sent away early in the day--leaving Adam to

follow in his own time. He came in earlier than was expected, and seemed

upset about something. Neither of the elders made any comment. They all

lit cigarettes, and, as dinner-time was close at hand, went to their

rooms to get ready.

Adam had evidently been thinking in the interval. He joined the others

in the drawing-room, looking ruffled and impatient--a condition of things

seen for the first time. The others, with the patience--or the

experience--of age, trusted to time to unfold and explain things. They

had not long to wait. After sitting down and standing up several times,

Adam suddenly burst out.

"That fellow seems to think he owns the earth. Can't he let people

alone! He seems to think that he has only to throw his handkerchief to

any woman, and be her master."

This outburst was in itself enlightening. Only thwarted affection in

some guise could produce this feeling in an amiable young man. Sir

Nathaniel, as an old diplomatist, had a way of understanding, as if by

foreknowledge, the true inwardness of things, and asked suddenly, but in

a matter-of-fact, indifferent voice:

"Was he after Lilla?"

"Yes, and the fellow didn't lose any time either. Almost as soon as they

met, he began to butter her up, and tell her how beautiful she was. Why,

before he left her side, he had asked himself to tea to-morrow at Mercy

Farm. Stupid ass! He might see that the girl isn't his sort! I never

saw anything like it. It was just like a hawk and a pigeon."

As he spoke, Sir Nathaniel turned and looked at Mr. Salton--a keen look

which implied a full understanding.

"Tell us all about it, Adam. There are still a few minutes before

dinner, and we shall all have better appetites when we have come to some

conclusion on this matter."

"There is nothing to tell, sir; that is the worst of it. I am bound to

say that there was not a word said that a human being could object to. He

was very civil, and all that was proper--just what a landlord might be to

a tenant's daughter . . . Yet--yet--well, I don't know how it was, but it

made my blood boil."

"How did the hawk and the pigeon come in?" Sir Nathaniel's voice was

soft and soothing, nothing of contradiction or overdone curiosity in it--a

tone eminently suited to win confidence.

"I can hardly explain. I can only say that he looked like a hawk and she

like a dove--and, now that I think of it, that is what they each did look

like; and do look like in their normal condition."

"That is so!" came the soft voice of Sir Nathaniel.

Adam went on:

"Perhaps that early Roman look of his set me off. But I wanted to

protect her; she seemed in danger."

"She seems in danger, in a way, from all you young men. I couldn't help

noticing the way that even you looked--as if you wished to absorb her!"

"I hope both you young men will keep your heads cool," put in Mr. Salton.

"You know, Adam, it won't do to have any quarrel between you, especially

so soon after his home-coming and your arrival here. We must think of

the feelings and happiness of our neighbours; mustn't we?"

"I hope so, sir. I assure you that, whatever may happen, or even

threaten, I shall obey your wishes in this as in all things."

"Hush!" whispered Sir Nathaniel, who heard the servants in the passage

bringing dinner.

After dinner, over the walnuts and the wine, Sir Nathaniel returned to

the subject of the local legends.

"It will perhaps be a less dangerous topic for us to discuss than more

recent ones."

"All right, sir," said Adam heartily. "I think you may depend on me now

with regard to any topic. I can even discuss Mr. Caswall. Indeed, I may

meet him to-morrow. He is going, as I said, to call at Mercy Farm at

three o'clock--but I have an appointment at two."

"I notice," said Mr. Salton, "that you do not lose any time."

The two old men once more looked at each other steadily. Then, lest the

mood of his listener should change with delay, Sir Nathaniel began at

once:

"I don't propose to tell you all the legends of Mercia, or even to make a

selection of them. It will be better, I think, for our purpose if we

consider a few facts--recorded or unrecorded--about this neighbourhood. I

think we might begin with Diana's Grove. It has roots in the different

epochs of our history, and each has its special crop of legend. The

Druid and the Roman are too far off for matters of detail; but it seems

to me the Saxon and the Angles are near enough to yield material for

legendary lore. We find that this particular place had another name

besides Diana's Grove. This was manifestly of Roman origin, or of

Grecian accepted as Roman. The other is more pregnant of adventure and

romance than the Roman name. In Mercian tongue it was 'The Lair of the

White Worm.' This needs a word of explanation at the beginning.

"In the dawn of the language, the word 'worm' had a somewhat different

meaning from that in use to-day. It was an adaptation of the Anglo-Saxon

'wyrm,' meaning a dragon or snake; or from the Gothic 'waurms,' a

serpent; or the Icelandic 'ormur,' or the German 'wurm.' We gather that

it conveyed originally an idea of size and power, not as now in the

diminutive of both these meanings. Here legendary history helps us. We

have the well-known legend of the 'Worm Well' of Lambton Castle, and that

of the 'Laidly Worm of Spindleston Heugh' near Bamborough. In both these

legends the 'worm' was a monster of vast size and power--a veritable

dragon or serpent, such as legend attributes to vast fens or quags where

there was illimitable room for expansion. A glance at a geological map

will show that whatever truth there may have been of the actuality of

such monsters in the early geologic periods, at least there was plenty of

possibility. In England there were originally vast plains where the

plentiful supply of water could gather. The streams were deep and slow,

and there were holes of abysmal depth, where any kind and size of

antediluvian monster could find a habitat. In places, which now we can

see from our windows, were mud-holes a hundred or more feet deep. Who

can tell us when the age of the monsters which flourished in slime came

to an end? There must have been places and conditions which made for

greater longevity, greater size, greater strength than was usual. Such

over-lappings may have come down even to our earlier centuries. Nay, are

there not now creatures of a vastness of bulk regarded by the generality

of men as impossible? Even in our own day there are seen the traces of

animals, if not the animals themselves, of stupendous size--veritable

survivals from earlier ages, preserved by some special qualities in their

habitats. I remember meeting a distinguished man in India, who had the

reputation of being a great shikaree, who told me that the greatest

temptation he had ever had in his life was to shoot a giant snake which

he had come across in the Terai of Upper India. He was on a

tiger-shooting expedition, and as his elephant was crossing a nullah, it

squealed. He looked down from his howdah and saw that the elephant had

stepped across the body of a snake which was dragging itself through the

jungle. 'So far as I could see,' he said, 'it must have been eighty or

one hundred feet in length. Fully forty or fifty feet was on each side

of the track, and though the weight which it dragged had thinned it, it

was as thick round as a man's body. I suppose you know that when you are

after tiger, it is a point of honour not to shoot at anything else, as

life may depend on it. I could easily have spined this monster, but I

felt that I must not--so, with regret, I had to let it go.'

"Just imagine such a monster anywhere in this country, and at once we

could get a sort of idea of the 'worms,' which possibly did frequent the

great morasses which spread round the mouths of many of the great

European rivers."

"I haven't the least doubt, sir, that there may have been such monsters

as you have spoken of still existing at a much later period than is

generally accepted," replied Adam. "Also, if there were such things,

that this was the very place for them. I have tried to think over the

matter since you pointed out the configuration of the ground. But it

seems to me that there is a hiatus somewhere. Are there not mechanical

difficulties?"

"In what way?"

"Well, our antique monster must have been mighty heavy, and the distances

he had to travel were long and the ways difficult. From where we are now

sitting down to the level of the mud-holes is a distance of several

hundred feet--I am leaving out of consideration altogether any lateral

distance. Is it possible that there was a way by which a monster could

travel up and down, and yet no chance recorder have ever seen him? Of

course we have the legends; but is not some more exact evidence necessary

in a scientific investigation?"

"My dear Adam, all you say is perfectly right, and, were we starting on

such an investigation, we could not do better than follow your reasoning.

But, my dear boy, you must remember that all this took place thousands of

years ago. You must remember, too, that all records of the kind that

would help us are lacking. Also, that the places to be considered were

desert, so far as human habitation or population are considered. In the

vast desolation of such a place as complied with the necessary

conditions, there must have been such profusion of natural growth as

would bar the progress of men formed as we are. The lair of such a

monster would not have been disturbed for hundreds--or thousands--of

years. Moreover, these creatures must have occupied places quite

inaccessible to man. A snake who could make himself comfortable in a

quagmire, a hundred feet deep, would be protected on the outskirts by

such stupendous morasses as now no longer exist, or which, if they exist

anywhere at all, can be on very few places on the earth's surface. Far

be it from me to say that in more elemental times such things could not

have been. The condition belongs to the geologic age--the great birth

and growth of the world, when natural forces ran riot, when the struggle

for existence was so savage that no vitality which was not founded in a

gigantic form could have even a possibility of survival. That such a

time existed, we have evidences in geology, but there only; we can never

expect proofs such as this age demands. We can only imagine or surmise

such things--or such conditions and such forces as overcame them."