Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Nobody's Rival

Before breakfast in the morning, Arthur walked out to look about
him. As the morning was fine and he had an hour on his hands, he
crossed the river by the ferry, and strolled along a footpath
through some meadows. When he came back to the towing-path, he
found the ferry-boat on the opposite side, and a gentleman hailing
it and waiting to be taken over.

This gentleman looked barely thirty. He was well dressed, of a
sprightly and gay appearance, a well-knit figure, and a rich dark
complexion. As Arthur came over the stile and down to the water's
edge, the lounger glanced at him for a moment, and then resumed his
occupation of idly tossing stones into the water with his foot.
There was something in his way of spurning them out of their places
with his heel, and getting them into the required position, that
Clennam thought had an air of cruelty in it. Most of us have more
or less frequently derived a similar impression from a man's manner
of doing some very little thing: plucking a flower, clearing away
an obstacle, or even destroying an insentient object.

The gentleman's thoughts were preoccupied, as his face showed, and
he took no notice of a fine Newfoundland dog, who watched him
attentively, and watched every stone too, in its turn, eager to
spring into the river on receiving his master's sign. The ferry-
boat came over, however, without his receiving any sign, and when
it grounded his master took him by the collar and walked him into
it.

'Not this morning,' he said to the dog. 'You won't do for ladies'
company, dripping wet. Lie down.'

Clennam followed the man and the dog into the boat, and took his
seat. The dog did as he was ordered. The man remained standing,
with his hands in his pockets, and towered between Clennam and the
prospect. Man and dog both jumped lightly out as soon as they
touched the other side, and went away. Clennam was glad to be rid
of them.

The church clock struck the breakfast hour as he walked up the
little lane by which the garden-gate was approached. The moment he
pulled the bell a deep loud barking assailed him from within the
wall.

'I heard no dog last night,' thought Clennam. The gate was opened
by one of the rosy maids, and on the lawn were the Newfoundland dog
and the man.

'Miss Minnie is not down yet, gentlemen,' said the blushing
portress, as they all came together in the garden. Then she said
to the master of the dog, 'Mr Clennam, sir,' and tripped away.

'Odd enough, Mr Clennam, that we should have met just now,' said
the man. Upon which the dog became mute. 'Allow me to introduce
myself--Henry Gowan. A pretty place this, and looks wonderfully
well this