16 - Prelude To Adventure by Hugh Walpole

Step into the thrilling narrative of Hugh Walpoles Prelude to Adventure. The story unfolds around Olva Dune, a Cambridge undergraduate who commits a murder and in that moment, senses the divine presence. The novel masterfully encapsulates the essence of Francis Thompsons poem, The Hound of Heaven - a tale of a soul in dread, relentlessly pursued by Gods love. Its highly recommended to enrich your experience by familiarizing yourself with the poem prior to diving into the novel. The story intrigued Carl Jung so much that he praised it as a psychological masterpiece in a letter to Walpole. Hergesheimer likened the suspense and plot to that of a Poe masterpiece, yet grounded in the relatable human experience. The narrative is a riveting blend of suspense, love, fear, triumph, all set against the backdrop of the captivating Cornish sea.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter fifteen of the Prelude to Adventure by Hugh Walpole.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter fifteen,
Prelude to a Journey One. He had a bath, changed
his clothes, and, sitting before his fire, waited. As he
looked around his room, he knew that he was leaving
it forever. Whatever might be the issue of his conversation

(00:24):
with Rupert, he knew that that, at any rate was true.
He would never return here again, or he would not
return until he had worked out his duty. He looked
about him regretfully. He had grown very fond of that
room and the things in it, the shape of it,
the books, the blue bowls, the bright fire, aegidious, but

(00:44):
he would take a jidious with him. He looked last
at the photograph of his father, the rocky eyes, the
flowing beard, the massive shoulders. It was back to him
that he was going, and he would walk all the way,
walking alone. He would he would watch, he would wait,
and then in that great silence he would be told

(01:05):
what he must do. In the pleasant crackle of the fire,
in the shaded light of the lamp, in the starlit
silence of the college courts. There seemed such safety in
his heart, there was such happiness In that moment of
waiting for Rupert Craven to come. He learnt once and
for all that in very truth, there is no gift,

(01:26):
no reward, no joy that can equal the peace of God,
nor is there any temporal danger, disease, or agony that
can threaten its power. As the last notes of the
clock in outer Court, Striking five died away, Rupert Craven
came in. If he had seemed tired and worn out before, now,

(01:47):
the overwhelming impression that he gave was of an unhappiness
from which he seemed to have no outlet. He was
young enough to be tormented by the determination to do
the right thing. He was young enough to give his
whole devotion to his sister. He was young enough to admire,
against all determination, Olva's presence and prowess and silence. He

(02:09):
was young enough to be haunted night and day by
the terrors of his imagination. He was young enough to
be amazed at finding the world a place of life
and death. He was young enough, finally to be staggered
that he personally should be drawn into the struggle. But now,
just now, as he stood in the doorway. He was

(02:31):
simply tired. Tired out, he pulled himself together with the
obvious intention of being cold and fierce and judicial. He
had cornered Doone at last, He had driven him to confession.
He was a fine fellow, a kind of fate, the
Supreme judge. This is what he doubtless desired to feel.
But he wished that Doone had not played so wonderful

(02:53):
a game that afternoon, that Doone did not, now, at
this moment of complete disaster and ruin, look so strangely happy,
that he were himself not so utterly wretched and conscious
of his own failure to do anything as it ought
to be done. He did his best. He refused to
sit down. He remained as still as possible. He looked

(03:16):
over Doone's head in order to avoid those shining eyes.
The eyes caught him, craven, Why have you been badgering
the wretched Bunning. I thought you asked me to come
here to tell me something. I didn't come to answer questions.
We'll come to my part of it in a moment,
but I think it's only fair to answer me first.

(03:37):
What have you got to do with Bunning? That's not immediately.
The point the thing I want to know is why
you should have chosen during the last week to go
and torment the hapless Bunning until you've had all but
driven him out of his wits. I don't see what
has got to do with you. It's got this much
to do with me that he came to me this

(03:59):
morning with his story so absurd that it proves that
he can't be altogether right in his head. He told
me that he had confided this absurd story to you.
There was no answer. I don't suppose. Olva went on
at last gently that we've either of us got very
much time, and there's a great deal to be done,

(04:19):
so let's go straight to it. Bunning told me this
morning that he declared to you yesterday that he, of
all people in the world, have murdered Carfax. Yes at last,
Craven sullenly muttered, he told me that, and of course
you didn't believe it. I didn't believe that he'd done it. No,

(04:39):
but he knows who did do it. He's got all
the details. Someone has told him. Craven was trembling. Olva
pushed a chair towards him. Look here, you'd better sit down.
Craven sat down. I know that someone told him, Olva
said quietly, Because I told him, Then you know who.

(05:00):
Craven's voice was a whisper. I know, said Ova, because
it was I who killed Carfax. Craven took it the
moment for which he'd been waiting so long, in the
most amazing way. Oh, he cried, like a child who
has cut its finger. Oh, I wish you hadn't. There
was the whole of Craven's young struggle with an astounding

(05:23):
world in that cry. Then after that there was a
long silence, and had some one come into the room,
he would have looked at the two men before the
fire and have supposed that they were gently and comfortably
falling off to sleep. Olva at last said, of course,
I know that you have suspected me for a long time.

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Everything played into your hands. I have done my very
utmost to prevent your having positive proof of the thing.
But that part of the business is now done with.
You know, and you can do what you please with
the knowledge. But now that the moment had come, Rupert
Craven could do nothing with it. I don't want to
do anything, he muttered at last, I'm not up to

(06:06):
doing anything. I don't understand it. I'm not the sort
of fellow who ought to be in this kind of
a thing at all. That was how he now saw it,
as an unfair advantage that had been taken of him.
This point of view changed his position to the extent
of his now almost appealing to Vha to help him
out of it. Your telling me like that has made

(06:27):
it all so difficult. I feel now suddenly as though
I hated Carfax and hadn't the least objection to somebody
doing for him. And that's all wrong. Murders an awful thing.
One ought to feel bad about it. Then, finally, with
the cry of a child in the dark, but this
isn't life. It never has been life since that day

(06:47):
I heard of Carfax being killed. It's the sort of
thing it's been for weeks, the sort of thing that
you read of and books or see a Theodelphi. And
I'm not that kind of fellow. I tell you, I've
been mad all this last month, getting it on the brain,
seeing things night and day. My one idea was to

(07:08):
make you own up to it, But I never thought
of what was going to happen when you did Ulva
let him work it out. Of course, I never thought
of you for an instant as the man until that afternoon,
when you talked in your sleep. Then I began to think,
and I remembered what Carfax had said about your hating him.
Then I went with your dog for a walk and

(07:28):
we found your match box. After that, I noticed all
sorts of things, and at the same time I saw
that you were in love with Margaret. That made me mad.
My sister is everything in the world to me, and
it seemed to me that she should marry a fellow who,
without knowing I began to be ill with it, and

(07:49):
yet I hadn't any real reason to bring forward. You
wanted me to show my cards, but I wouldn't. Sometimes
I thought I really was going mad. Then two things
may be desperate. I saw that you had some secret
understanding with my mother, and I saw that my sister
loved you. We'd always been tremendous powells. We three, and

(08:11):
it seemed as though everyone were siding against me. I
saw Margaret marrying you, and mother letting her although she
knew it was awful. Hell, he pressed his hands together,
his voice shook. I'd never been in anything before, no
kind of trouble, and now it seemed to put me
right on one side. I couldn't see straight. One moment

(08:35):
I hated you, then I admired you. And the oddest
thing of all was that I didn't think about the
actual thing, your having killed Carfax, at all. Everything else
was so much more important. I just wanted to be
sure that you'd done it, and then for you to
go away and never see any of us again. Olva smiled, Yes,

(08:57):
he said, but it wasn't until the fifth of Novemne,
the rag night, that I was quite sure. I knew then,
when I saw you hitting that fellow, that you'd killed Carfax.
But of course that wasn't proof. Then I noticed Punning.
I saw that he was always with you, and of
course it was an odd sort of friendship for you
to have. I could see too that he'd got something

(09:19):
on his mind. I went for him. It was all
easy enough, and at last he broke down. Then I'd
got you. You've forgot me, said Olva. Rupert looked him
slowly in the face. You're wonderful, then, he added, almost wistfully.
If Margaret hadn't loved you, it wouldn't really any of

(09:40):
it have mattered. I suppose that's very immoral, but that's
what it comes to. Margaret's everything in the world to me,
and you must tell her. Of course I will tell her,
Ulva said. That's what I ought to have done from
the beginning. That's what I was meant to do, but
I had to be driven to it. What will you do, Craven,

(10:01):
if it doesn't matter to her, if she doesn't care
whether I kill Carfax or no, at least you'll have
told her, the boy replied firmly. At least she'll know.
Then it's for her to decide. She'll do the right thing,
he ended proudly. And what do you think that is,
Ulva asked him. I don't know, he answered. This seems

(10:22):
to have altered everything. I ought. Now to be hating you,
I don't. I ought to shudder at the sight of you.
I don't. The Carfax business seems to have slipped right
back to be ages ago, not to matter. All I
suppose I wanted was to be reassured about you, if
Margaret loved you, and now I am reassured. I believe

(10:46):
you know what to do. Yes, I know what to do,
said Ova, I'm going away tomorrow for a long time.
I shall always love Margaret. There can never be any
one else. But I shall not marry her unless I
can come back cleared. And who what can clear you? Ah?
Who knows? There'll be something for me to do. I

(11:09):
expect I will see Margaret tomorrow and say good bye.
Craven's face was white, the eyelids had almost closed. His
head hung forward as though it were too heavy to support.
I'm just about done, he murmured, just about done. It's
been all a beastly dream. And now you're all right,

(11:30):
you and Margaret. I haven't got to bother about her
any more. Two after haul Ova went to Cardiac's room
for the last time. No one there knew that it
was for the last time. It seemed to them all
that he was just beginning to come out to be
one of them. The football match of that afternoon had
been wonderful enough for anything, and the excitement of it

(11:53):
lingered still about Cardiac's rooms, thick now with tobacco smoke,
crowded with men with laughter. The air was so strong
with smoke, the light so dim, the voices so many,
that Olva, finding a corner near an open window slipped.
It might almost seem from the world outside. The snow

(12:15):
threatening all day now fell heavily. The old court took
it with a gentleness that showed that the snow was
meant for it. And the snow covered the gray roofs
and the smooth grass with a satisfaction that could almost
be heard. So deep was it just this little window
pane between the world that Ova was leaving and the

(12:36):
world to which he was going. He caught fragments just
that last run. Oh gorgeous, but old Snoggy, says that
horse of his, My dear fellow, you take it from me.
They can't get on without it, now, a girl, I know.
They fairly fell upon one another's necks and hug talk
of the fatted camp, now, asked the governor. Around him,

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there came with a poignancy, a beauty that, now that
he was to lose it, all was like a wound,
the wonder of this cambridge. Then he had it, the
marvelous moment on the other side of the window, the
still court, a few twinkling lights, the powdering snow, and
here the vitality, the energy, the glowing sense of two

(13:20):
thousand souls, marching together upon life and seizing it with
a shout, lifting it, stepping out with it as though
it were one long glory. Afterwards, what matter there had
been the moment never to be forgotten Cambridge, the beautiful
threshold for an instant, the sense of his own forthcoming

(13:41):
journey away from life, as it seemed to him, caught
him as he sat there, What will God do with me?
From the outer world Through the whispering snow, he caught
the echo of the voice, my son, my son. Soon
he heard Lawrence's tremendous laugh. Where's doone is he here?

(14:02):
Lawrence found him and sat down beside him by Jupiter.
Old man, I was frightened for you this afternoon until
half time. You were drugged or somethin' and there was
I prayin to my druids. Oh I was worth to
put back into you. Am I word? They did it?
Talk about that second half? Never saw anything like it.

(14:22):
Have a drink, old man? No, thanks, Yes, I didn't
seem to get on to it at all at first. Well,
you've fixed for Queen's Club, just heard I got your
blue all right? You and Whimper ought to do fine
things between you, although stickin too. Individuals together on the
same wing like that ain't exactly my idea, and they

(14:42):
don't as a rule. Settled the team. As early as this,
Lawrence put a large hand on Olph's knee. Going home
for Christmas, he said, I expect so well. You see,
I've got a sort of idea. I wish this back.
You'd come and stay with us for a bit. Good
old sorts my people. Governor quite a brainy man, and
you could talk you two. There'll be lots of people

(15:05):
tumblin' about the place, lots going on, and the Governor
liked to have a sensible feller once in a way,
and I'd like it too, he ended at the bottom
of his gruff voice. Well, you see, Olva explained, It
depends a bit on my own father. He's all alone
up there at our place, and I like to be
with him as much as possible. Ova looked through the

(15:28):
window at the snow, gray against the sky, white against
the college walls. I don't quite know where I shall be.
I think you must let me write to you. Oh
that's all right, said Lawrence. I want you to come
along some time, you would like, the governor, and if
you don't mind listening to an ass like me. Well,
I'd take it as an honor if you'd talk to

(15:49):
me a bit. As Ova looked Lawrence in the eyes.
He knew that it would be well with him if
in his journey through the world he met again so
good a soul. Cardiac joined them, and they all talked
for a little. Then Ovah said good night. He turned
for a moment at the door and looked back. Someone
at the other end of the room was singing Egypt

(16:10):
to a cracked piano, a babble of laughter, of chatter.
Every now and again, men tumbled against one another like
cubs in a cave, and rolled upon the floor. Lawrence,
his feet planted wide apart, was standing in the middle
of an admiring circle, explaining something very slowly. If the
old scrum half he was saying, only stood back enough,

(16:33):
What a splendid lot they were, What a life. It was,
so much joy in the heart of so much beauty. Cambridge.
As he crossed the White Court, the strains of Egypt
came like a farewell through the tumbling snow. There was
still a thing that he must do. He went to
say goodbye to Bunning. He thought with surprise as he

(16:55):
climbed the stairs that this was the first time that
he'd ever been to Bunning's room. It had always been
Bunning who had come to him. He would always see
that picture, Bunning standing clumsily, awkwardly in the doorway, Poor Bunning.
When Olva came in, he was sitting in a very
old arm chair, staring into the fire, his hair on

(17:17):
end and his tie above his collar. Olva watched him
for a moment, the face, the body, everything about him
utterly dejected. The sound of Oliva's entrance did not at
once rouse him. When at last he saw who it was,
he started up, his face flushing. Crimson, you, he cried, Oh, yes,

(17:39):
said Ova. I've come to tell you that everything's all right.
For a moment, light touched Bunning's eyes. Then slowly he
shook his head. Things can't be all right. It's gone
much too far, my dear Bunning. I've seen Craven. I've
told him. I assure you that all is well. You
told him everything that I killed Carfax. He knew it,

(18:02):
of course, long ago. He went fast asleep at the
end of it. Bunning shook his head again, wearily. It's
all no good. You're saying these things to comfort me.
Even if Craven didn't do anything, he wouldn't let you
marry his sister. Now that's more important than being hung.
If it hadn't been for you, Ulva said slowly, I

(18:23):
should have gone on wriggling. You've made me come out
into the open. I'm going to tell miss Craven everything tomorrow.
What will she do? I don't know she'll do the
right thing. After that, I'm going away, going away, Yes,
I want to think about things. I've never thought about
anything except myself. I'm going to tramp at home, and

(18:46):
after that I shall find out what I'm going to do.
And Miss Craven I shall come back to her one
day when i'm fit for it, or rather if i'm
fit for it. But that's enough about myself. I only
want to tell you, Bunning, before I go, that I
shall never forget your telling Craven you're lucky to have
been able to do so fine a thing. We shall

(19:08):
meet again later on. I'll see to that. Bunning, his
whole body strung to a desperate appeal, caught Ulva's hand.
Take me with you, dooon, take me with you. I'll
be your servant anything you like. I'll do anything if
you'll let me come. I won't be a nuisance. I'll
never talk if you don't want me to. I'll do

(19:28):
everything you tell me. Only let me come. You're the
only person who's ever shown me what I might do.
I might be of use if I were with you. Otherwise,
Rot Bunning, You've got plenty to do here. I'm no
good yet for anybody. One day, perhaps we'll meet again.
I'll write to you. I promise not to forget you.

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How could i? And one day I'll come back. Bunning
moved away, his head hanging. You must think me an
awful fool. Of course you do, I am. I suppose
I'd be awful to be with for long at a time.
Of course I see that. But I don't know what
to do. If I go home and tell them I'm

(20:10):
not going to be a parson, it'll be terrible. They'll
all be at me, not directly, they won't say anything,
but they'll have people to talk to me. They'll fill
the house, they won't spare any pains. And then, at last,
being all alone, I shall give in. I know I shall.
I'm not clever or strong, and I shall be ordained,

(20:31):
and then it'll be hell. I can see it all.
You came into my life and made it all different,
and now you're going out of it again, and it
will be worse than ever. I won't go out of it,
said Ova. I'll write if you'd like, and perhaps we'll meet.
I'll be always your friend. And look here, I'll tell Margaret,
missus Craven, about you, and she'll ask you to go

(20:54):
and see her. And if you two are friends, it'll
be a kind of alliance between all of us, won't it.
Bunning was happier. Oh but she'll think me such an ass.
Oh no, she won't. She's much too clever and Bunning,
don't let yourself be driven by people. Stick to the
thing you want to do. You'll find something, all right.

(21:15):
Just go on here and wait until you're shown. Sit
with your ears open. Bunning filled his mouth with toast.
If you'll write to me and keep up with me,
I'll do anything, and one thing. Don't tell any one
I'm going. I shall just slip out of college early
the day after tomorrow. I don't want anyone to know.

(21:36):
It's nobody's affair but mine. Then he held out his
hand goodbye, Bunning, old man. Goodbye, said Bunning. When Ova
had gone, he sat down by the fire again, staring.
Some hours afterwards he spoke suddenly, Aloud, I can stand
the lot of them now, And then he went to bed.

(22:00):
End of chapter fifteen.