diff options
Diffstat (limited to '14395-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 14395-h/14395-h.htm | 9403 |
1 files changed, 9403 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/14395-h/14395-h.htm b/14395-h/14395-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..76e4ae5 --- /dev/null +++ b/14395-h/14395-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9403 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Septimus, by William J. +Locke.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14395 ***</div> + +<h1>SEPTIMUS</h1> +<p><b>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</b></p> +<br /> +IDOLS<br /> +JAFFERY<br /> +VIVIETTE<br /> +SEPTIMUS<br /> +DERELICTS<br /> +THE USURPER<br /> +STELLA MARIS<br /> +WHERE LOVE IS<br /> +THE ROUGH ROAD<br /> +THE MOUNTEBANK<br /> +THE RED PLANET<br /> +THE WHITE DOVE<br /> +FAR-AWAY STORIES<br /> +THE GREAT PANDOLFO<br /> +SIMON THE JESTER<br /> +THE COMING OF AMOS<br /> +THE TALE OF TRIONA<br /> +A STUDY IN SHADOWS<br /> +A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY<br /> +THE WONDERFUL YEAR<br /> +THE HOUSE OF BALTAZAR<br /> +THE FORTUNATE YOUTH<br /> +THE BELOVED VAGABOND<br /> +AT THE GATE OF SAMARIA<br /> +THE GLORY OF CLEMENTINA<br /> +THE MORALS OF MARCUS ORDEYNE<br /> +THE DEMAGOGUE AND LADY PHAYRE<br /> +THE JOYOUS ADVENTURES OF ARISTIDE PUJOL<br /> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1><a name="SEPTIMUS" id="SEPTIMUS"></a>SEPTIMUS</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BY<br /> +WILLIAM J. LOCKE</h2> +<h5>NEW YORK<br /> +DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY<br /> +1931<br /> +Copyright, 1908<br /> +By The Phillips Publishing Company<br /> +<br /> +Copyright, 1909<br /> +By Dodd, Mead & Company<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +Printed in U.S.A.<br /> +<br /> +The Vail-Ballou Press<br /> +Binghamton and New York<br /> +RUTGER BLEECKER JEWETT<br /> +<br /> +CARO SEPTIMI<br /> +AUCTORISQUE AMICO HIC LIBER<br /> +SEPTIMI INSCRIBITUR</h5> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a></p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a>[12]</span>CHAPTER +I</h2> +<p>"I love Nunsmere," said the Literary Man from London. "It is a +spot where faded lives are laid away in lavender."</p> +<p>"I'm not a faded life, and I'm not going to be laid away in +lavender," retorted Zora Middlemist.</p> +<p>She turned from him and handed cakes to the Vicar. She had no +desire to pet the Vicar, but he was less unbearable than the +Literary Man from London whom he had brought to call on his +parishioners. Zora disliked to be called a parishioner. She +disliked many things in Nunsmere. Her mother, Mrs. Oldrieve, +however, loved Nunsmere, adored the Vicar, and found awe-inspiring +in his cleverness the Literary Man from London.</p> +<p>Nunsmere lies hidden among the oaks of Surrey, far from the busy +ways of men. It is heaven knows how many miles from a highroad. You +have to drive through lanes and climb right over a hill to get to +it. Two old Georgian houses covered with creepers, a modern Gothic +church, two much more venerable and pious-looking inns, and a few +cottages settling peacefully around a common form the village. Here +and there a cottage lurks up a lane. These cottages are mostly +inhabited by the gentle classes. Some are really old, with great +oak beams across the low ceilings, and stone-flagged kitchens +furnished with great open fire<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span>places where you can sit and get +scorched and covered with smoke. Some are new, built in imitation +of the old, by a mute, inglorious Adam, the village carpenter. All +have long casement windows, front gardens in which grow stocks and +phlox and sunflowers and hollyhocks and roses; and a red-tiled path +leads from the front gate to the entrance porch. Nunsmere is very +quiet and restful. Should a roisterer cross the common singing a +song at half-past nine at night, all Nunsmere hears it and is +shocked—if not frightened to the extent of bolting doors and +windows, lest the dreadful drunken man should come in.</p> +<p>In a cottage on the common, an old one added to by the local +architect, with a front garden and a red-tiled path, dwelt Mrs. +Oldrieve in entire happiness, and her daughter in discontent. And +this was through no peevish or disagreeable traits in Zora's +nature. If we hear Guy Fawkes was fretful in the Little-Ease, we +are not pained by Guy Fawkes's lack of Christian resignation.</p> +<p>When the Vicar and the Literary Man from London had gone, Zora +threw open the window and let the soft autumn air flood the room. +Mrs. Oldrieve drew her woolen shawl around her lean shoulders.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you quite snubbed Mr. Rattenden, just when he was +saying one of his cleverest things."</p> +<p>"He said it to the wrong person, mother. I'm neither a faded +life nor am I going to be laid away in lavender. Do I look like +it?"</p> +<p>She moved across the room, swiftly, and stood in the slanting +light from the window, offering herself for inspection. Nothing +could be less like a faded life than the magnificent, broad-hipped, +full-bosomed woman that met her mother's gaze. Her hair was auburn, +her eyes brown with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id= +"Page_3"></a>[3]</span>gold flecks, her lips red, her cheeks clear +and young. She was cast, physically, in heroic mold, a creature of +dancing blood and color and warmth. Disparaging tea-parties called +her an Amazon. The Vicar's wife regarded her as too large and +flaring and curvilinear for reputable good looks. She towered over +Nunsmere. Her presence disturbed the sedateness of the place. She +was a wrong note in its harmony.</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldrieve sighed. She was small and colorless. Her husband, +a wild explorer, a tornado of a man, had been killed by a buffalo. +She was afraid that Zora took after her father. Her younger +daughter Emmy had also inherited some of the Oldrieve restlessness +and had gone on the stage. She was playing now in musical comedy in +London.</p> +<p>"I don't see why you should not be happy here, Zora," she +remarked, "but if you want to go, you must. I used to say the same +to your poor, dear father."</p> +<p>"I've been very good, haven't I?" said Zora. "I've been the +model young widow and lived as demurely as if my heart were +breaking with sorrow. But now, I can't stand it any longer. I'm +going out to see the world."</p> +<p>"You'll soon marry again, dear, and that's one comfort."</p> +<p>Zora brought her hands down passionately to her sides.</p> +<p>"Never. Never—do you hear, mother? Never. I'm going out +into the world, to get to the heart of the life I've never known. +I'm going to live."</p> +<p>"I don't see how you are going to 'live,' dear, without a man to +take care of you," said Mrs. Oldrieve, on whom there occasionally +flashed an eternal verity.</p> +<p>"I hate men. I hate the touch of them—the very sight of +them. I'm going to have nothing more to do with them for the rest +of my natural life. My dear mother!" and her <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span>voice broke, +"haven't I had enough to do with men and marriage?"</p> +<p>"All men aren't like Edward Middlemist," Mrs. Oldrieve argued as +she counted the rows of her knitting.</p> +<p>"How am I to know that? How could anyone have told that he was +what he was? For heaven's sake don't talk of it. I had almost +forgotten it all in this place."</p> +<p>She shuddered and, turning to the window, stared into the +sunset.</p> +<p>"Lavender has its uses," said Mrs. Oldrieve.</p> +<p>Here again it must be urged on Zora's behalf that she had reason +for her misanthropy. It is not cheerful for a girl to discover +within twenty-four hours of her wedding that her husband is a +hopeless drunkard, and to see him die of delirium tremens within +six weeks. An experience so vivid, like lightning must blast +something in a woman's conception of life. Because one man's kisses +reeked of whisky the kisses of all male humanity were anathema.</p> +<p>After a long spell of silence she came and laid her cheek +against her mother's.</p> +<p>"This is the very last time we'll speak of it, dear. I'll lock +the skeleton in its cupboard and throw away the key."</p> +<p>She went upstairs to dress and came down radiant. At dinner she +spoke exultingly of her approaching freedom. She would tear off her +widow's weeds and deck herself in the flower of youth. She would +plunge into the great swelling sea of Life. She would drink +sunshine and fill her soul with laughter. She would do a million +hyperbolic things, the mention of which mightily confused her +mother. "I, my dear," said the hen in the fairy tale, "never had +the faintest desire to get into water." So, more or less, said Mrs. +Oldrieve.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id= +"Page_5"></a>[5]</span>Will you miss me very dreadfully?" asked +Zora.</p> +<p>"Of course," but her tone was so lacking in conviction that Zora +laughed.</p> +<p>"Mother, you know very well that Cousin Jane will be a more +sympathetic companion. You've been pining for her all this +time."</p> +<p>Cousin Jane held distinct views on the cut of under-clothes for +the deserving poor, and as clouds disperse before the sun so did +household dust before her presence. Untidiness followed in Zora's +steps, as it does in those of the physically large, and Cousin Jane +disapproved of her thoroughly. But Mrs. Oldrieve often sighed for +Cousin Jane as she had never sighed for Zora, Emily, or her +husband. She was more than content with the prospect of her +companionship.</p> +<p>"At any rate, my dear," she said that evening, as she paused, +candle in hand, by her bedroom door, "at any rate I hope you'll do +nothing that is unbecoming to a gentlewoman."</p> +<p>Such was her benison.</p> +<p>Zora bumped her head against the oak beam that ran across her +bedroom ceiling.</p> +<p>"It's quite true," she said to herself, "the place is too small +for me, I don't fit."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>What she was going to do in this wide world into whose glories +she was about to enter she had but the vaguest notion. All to her +was the Beautiful Unknown. Narrow means had kept her at Cheltenham +and afterwards at Nunsmere, all her life. She had met her husband +in Ipswich while she was paying a polite visit to some distant +cousins. She had married him offhand, in a whirl of the senses. He +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id= +"Page_6"></a>[6]</span>was a handsome blackguard, of independent +means, and she had spent her nightmare of a honeymoon at Brighton. +On three occasions, during her five-and-twenty years of existence, +she had spent a golden week in London. That was all she knew of the +wide world. It was not very much. Reading had given her a +second-hand acquaintance with the doings of various classes of +mankind, and such pictures as she had seen had filled her head with +dreams of strange and wonderful places. But otherwise she was +ignorant, beautifully, childishly ignorant—and +undismayed.</p> +<p>What was she going to do? Sensitive and responsive to beauty, +filled with artistic impulses, she could neither paint, act, sing, +nor write pretty little stories for the magazines. She had no +special gift to develop. To earn her living in a humdrum way she +had no need. She had no high Ibsenite notions of working out her +own individuality. She had no consuming passion for reforming any +section of the universe. She had no mission—that she knew +of—to accomplish. Unlike so many of her sex who yearn to be +as men and go out into the world she had no inner mandate to do +anything, no ambition to be anything. She was simply a great, rich +flower, struggling through the shade to the sunlight, plenty of +sunlight, as much sunlight as the heavens could give her.</p> +<p>The Literary Man from London happened to be returning to town by +the train that carried Zora on the first stage of her pilgrimage. +He obtained her consent to travel up in the same carriage. He asked +her to what branch of human activity she intended to devote +herself. She answered that she was going to lie, anyhow, among the +leaves. He rebuked her.</p> +<p>"We ought," said he, "to justify our existence."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id= +"Page_7"></a>[7]</span>She drew herself up and flashed an indignant +glance at him.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon," he apologized. "You do justify yours."</p> +<p>"How?"</p> +<p>"You decorate the world. I was wrong. That is the true function +of a beautiful woman, and you fulfill it."</p> +<p>"I have in my bag," replied Zora slowly, and looking at him +steady-eyed, "a preventive against sea-sickness; I have a +waterproof to shelter me from rain; but what can I do to shield +myself against silly compliments?"</p> +<p>"Adopt the costume of the ladies of the Orient," said the +Literary Man from London, unabashed.</p> +<p>She laughed, although she detested him. He bent forward with +humorous earnestness. He had written some novels, and now edited a +weekly of precious tendencies and cynical flavor.</p> +<p>"I am a battered old man of thirty-five," said he, "and I know +what I am talking about. If you think you are going to wander at a +loose end about Europe without men paying you compliments and +falling in love with you and making themselves generally +delightful, you're traveling under a grievous hallucination."</p> +<p>"What you say," retorted Zora, "confirms me in my opinion that +men are an abominable nuisance. Why can't they let a poor woman go +about in peace?"</p> +<p>The train happened to be waiting at Clapham Junction. A spruce +young man, passing by on the platform, made a perceptible pause by +the window, his eyes full on her. She turned her head impatiently. +Rattenden laughed.</p> +<p>"Dear lady," said he, "I must impart to you the elements of +wisdom. Miss Keziah Skaffles, with brain cordage for hair, and +monoliths for teeth, and a box of dominoes for a <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span>body, can fool +about unmolested among the tribes of Crim Tartary. She doesn't +worry the Tartars. But, permit me to say it, as you are for the +moment my disciple, a beautiful woman like yourself, radiating +feminine magnetism, worries a man exceedingly. You don't let him go +about in peace, so why should he let you?"</p> +<p>"I think," said Zora, as the train moved on, "that Miss Keziah +Skaffles is very much to be envied, and that this is a very horrid +conversation."</p> +<p>She was offended in her provincial-bred delicacy. It was enough +to make her regard herself with repulsion. She took up the fashion +paper she had bought at the station—was she not intending to +run delicious riot among the dressmakers and milliners of +London?—and regarding blankly the ungodly waisted ladies in +the illustrations, determined to wear a wig and paint her face +yellow, and black out one of her front teeth, so that she should +not worry the Tartars.</p> +<p>"I am only warning you against possible dangers," said Rattenden +stiffly. He did not like his conversation to be called horrid.</p> +<p>"To the race of men?"</p> +<p>"No, to yourself."</p> +<p>She laughed scornfully. "No fear of that. Why does every man +think himself irresistible?"</p> +<p>"Because he generally is—if he wants to be," said the +Literary Man from London.</p> +<p>Zora caught her breath. "Well of all—" she began.</p> +<p>"Yes, I know what you're going to say. Millions of women have +said it and eaten their words. Why should you—beautiful as +you are—be an exception to the law of life? You're going out +to suck the honey of the world, and <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_9" id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span>men's hearts will be your +flowers. Instinct will drive you. You won't be able to get away +from it. You think you're going to be thrilled into passionate +raptures by cathedrals and expensive restaurants and the set pieces +of fashionable scenery. You're not. Your store of honey will +consist of emotional experiences of a primitive order. If not, I +know nothing at all about women."</p> +<p>"Do you know anything about them?" she asked sweetly.</p> +<p>"More than would be becoming of me to tell," he replied. +"Anyhow," he added, "that doesn't matter. I've made my prophecy. +You'll tell me afterwards, if I have the pleasure of seeing you +again, whether it has come true."</p> +<p>"It won't come true," said Zora.</p> +<p>"We shall see," said the wise man.</p> +<p>She dashed, that afternoon, into her sister's tiny flat in +Chelsea. Emily, taken by surprise, hastily stuffed to the bottom of +her work-basket a man's silk tie which she was knitting, and then +greeted Zora affectionately.</p> +<p>She was shorter, slimmer, paler than her sister: of a certain +babyish prettiness. She had Mrs. Oldrieve's weak mouth and gentle +ways.</p> +<p>"Why, Zora, who would have thought of seeing you? What are you +doing in town?"</p> +<p>"Getting hats and frocks—a trousseau of freedom. I've left +Nunsmere. I'm on my own."</p> +<p>Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks were flushed. She caught Emily to +her bosom.</p> +<p>"Oh, darling! I'm so happy—a bird let out of a cage."</p> +<p>"An awful big bird," laughed Emily.</p> +<p>"Yes, let out of an awful small cage. I'm going to see the +world, for the first time in my life. I'm going to get <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span>out of the +cold and wet—going South—to +Italy—Sicily—Egypt—anywhere."</p> +<p>"All by yourself?"</p> +<p>"There'll be Turner."</p> +<p>"Turner?"</p> +<p>"Ah, you don't know her. My new maid. But isn't it glorious? Why +shouldn't you come with me, darling? Do. Come."</p> +<p>"And throw up my engagement? I couldn't. I should love it, but +you don't know how hard engagements are to get."</p> +<p>"Never mind. I'll pay for everything."</p> +<p>But Emily shook her fluffy head. She had a good part, a few +lines to speak and a bit of a song to sing in a successful musical +comedy. She looked back on the two years' price she had paid for +that little bit of a song. It was dearer to her than +anything—save one thing—in life.</p> +<p>"I can't. Besides, don't you think a couple of girls fooling +about alone look rather silly? It wouldn't really be very funny +without a man."</p> +<p>Zora rose in protest. "The whole human race is man-mad! Even +mother. I think everybody is detestable!"</p> +<p>The maid announced "Mr. Mordaunt Prince," and a handsome man +with finely cut, dark features and black hair parted in the middle +and brushed tightly back over the head, entered the room. Emmy +presented him to Zora, who recognized him as the leading man at the +theater where Emmy was playing. Zora exchanged a few polite +commonplaces with the visitor and then took her leave. Emmy +accompanied her to the front door of the flat.</p> +<p>"Isn't he charming?"</p> +<p>"That creature?" asked Zora.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id= +"Page_11"></a>[11]</span>Emmy laughed. "In your present mood you +would find fault with an archangel. Good-bye, darling, and take +care of yourself."</p> +<p>She bore no malice, having a kind heart and being foolishly +happy. When she returned to the drawing-room the man took both her +hands.</p> +<p>"Well, sweetheart?"</p> +<p>"My sister wanted to carry me off to Italy."</p> +<p>"What did you say?"</p> +<p>"Guess," said the girl, lifting starry eyes.</p> +<p>The man guessed, after the manner of men, and for a moment Emmy +forgot Zora, who went her own way in pursuit of happiness, heedless +of the wisdom of the wise and of the foolish.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span>CHAPTER +II</h2> +<p>For five months Zora wandered over the world—chiefly +Italy—without an experience which might be called an +adventure. When the Literary Man from London crossed her mind she +laughed him to scorn for a prophetic popinjay. She had broken no +man's heart, and her own was whole. The tribes of Crim Tartary had +exhibited no signs of worry and had left her unmolested. She had +furthermore taken rapturous delight in cathedrals, expensive +restaurants, and the set pieces of fashionable scenery. Rattenden +had not a prophetic leg to stand on.</p> +<p>Yet she longed for the unattainable—for the elusive +something of which these felicities were but symbols. Now the +wanderer with a haunting sense of the Beyond, but without the true +vagabond's divine gift of piercing the veil, can only follow the +obvious; and there are seasons when the obvious fails to satisfy. +When such a mood overcame her mistress, Turner railed at the +upsetting quality of foreign food, and presented bicarbonate of +soda. She arrived by a different path at the unsatisfactory nature +of the obvious. Sometimes, too, the pleasant acquaintances of +travel were lacking, and loneliness upset the nice balance of +Zora's nerves. Then, more than ever, did she pine for the +Beyond.</p> +<p>Yet youth, receptivity, imagination kept her buoyant. Hope lured +her on with renewed promises from city to city. At last, on her +homeward journey, he whispered the magic name of Monte Carlo, and +her heart was aflutter in anticipation of wonderland.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id= +"Page_13"></a>[13]</span>She stood bewildered, lonely, and dismayed +in the first row behind the chairs, fingering an empty purse. She +had been in the rooms ten minutes, and she had lost twenty louis. +Her last coup had been successful, but a bland old lady, with the +white hair and waxen face of sainted motherhood, had swept up her +winnings so unconcernedly that Zora's brain began to swim. As she +felt too strange and shy to expostulate she stood fingering her +empty purse.</p> +<p>The scene was utterly different from what she had expected. She +had imagined a gay, crowded room, wild gamblers shouting in their +excitement, a band playing delirious waltz music, champagne corks +popping merrily, painted women laughing, jesting loudly, all kinds +of revelry and devilry and Bacchic things undreamed of. This was +silly of her, no doubt, but the silliness of inexperienced young +women is a matter for the pity, not the reprobation, of the +judicious. If they take the world for their oyster and think, when +they open it, they are going to find pearl necklaces ready-made, we +must not blame them. Rather let hoary-headed sinners envy them +their imaginings.</p> +<p>The corners of Zora Middlemist's ripe lips drooped with a +child's pathos of disillusionment. Her nose delicately marked +disgust at the heavy air and the discord of scents around her. +Having lost her money she could afford to survey with scorn the +decorous yet sordid greed of the crowded table. There was not a +gleam of gaiety about it. The people behaved with the correct +impassiveness of an Anglican congregation. She had heard of more +jocular funerals.</p> +<p>She forgot the intoxication of her first gold and turquoise day +at Monte Carlo. A sense of loneliness—such as a solitary dove +might feel in a wilderness of evil bats—oppressed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id= +"Page_14"></a>[14]</span>her. Had she not been aware that she was a +remarkably attractive woman and the object of innumerable glances, +she would have cried. And twenty louis pitched into unprofitable +space! Yet she stood half fascinated by the rattle of the marble on +the revolving disc, the glitter of the gold, the soft pat of the +coins on the green cloth as they were thrown by the croupier. She +began to make imaginary stakes. For five coups in succession she +would have won. It was exasperating. There she stood, having +pierced the innermost mystery of chance, without even a five-franc +piece in her purse.</p> +<p>A man's black sleeve pushed past her shoulder, and she saw a +hand in front of her holding a louis. Instinctively she took +it.</p> +<p>"Thanks," said a tired voice. "I can't reach the table. She +threw it, <i>en plein</i>, on Number Seventeen; and then with a +start, realizing what she had done, she turned with burning +cheeks.</p> +<p>"I <i>am</i> so sorry."</p> +<p>Her glance met a pair of unspeculative blue eyes, belonging to +the owner of the tired voice. She noted that he had a sallow face, +a little brown mustache, and a shock of brown hair, curiously +upstanding, like Struwel Peter's.</p> +<p>"I am <i>so</i> sorry," she repeated. "Please ask for it back. +What did you want me to play?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. It doesn't matter, so long as you've put it +somewhere."</p> +<p>"But I've put it <i>en plein</i> on Seventeen," she urged. "I +ought to have thought what I was doing."</p> +<p>"Why think?" he murmured.</p> +<p>Mrs. Middlemist turned square to the table and fixed her eyes on +the staked louis. In spite of the blue-eyed man's <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span>implied +acquiescence she felt qualms of responsibility. Why had she not +played on an even chance, or one of the dozens, or even a +<i>transversale</i>? To add to her discomfort no one else played +the full seventeen. The whole table seemed silently jeering at her +inexperience.</p> +<p>The croupiers had completed the payments of the last coup. The +marble fell with its sharp click and whizzed and rattled around the +disc. Zora held her breath. The marble found its compartment at +last, and the croupier announced:</p> +<p><i>"Dix-sept, noir, impair et manque."</i></p> +<p>She had won. A sigh of relief shook her bosom. Not only had she +not lost a stranger's money, but she had won for him thirty-five +times his stake. She watched the louis greedily lest it should be +swept away by a careless croupier—perhaps the only impossible +thing that could not happen at Monte Carlo—and stretched out +her arm past the bland old lady in tense determination to frustrate +further felonious proceedings. The croupier pitched seven large +gold coins across the table. She clutched them feverishly and +turned to deliver them to their owner. He was nowhere to be seen. +She broke through the ring, and with her hands full of gold scanned +the room in dismayed perplexity.</p> +<p>At last she espied him standing dejectedly by another table. She +rushed across the intervening space and held out the money.</p> +<p>"See, you have won!"</p> +<p>"Oh, Lord!" murmured the man, removing his hands from his +dinner-jacket pockets, but not offering to take his winnings. "What +a lot of trouble I have given you."</p> +<p>"Of course you have," she said tartly. "Why didn't you +stay?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id= +"Page_16"></a>[16]</span>I don't know," he replied. "How can one +tell why one doesn't do things?"</p> +<p>"Well, please take the money now and let me get rid of it. There +are seven pieces of five louis each."</p> +<p>She counted the coins into his hand, and then suddenly flushed +scarlet. She had forgotten to claim the original louis which she +had staked. Where was it? What had become of it? As well try, she +thought, to fish up a coin thrown into the sea. She felt like a +thief.</p> +<p>"There ought to be another louis," she stammered.</p> +<p>"It doesn't matter," said the man.</p> +<p>"But it does matter. You might think that I—I kept +it."</p> +<p>"That's too absurd," he answered. "Are you interested in +guns?"</p> +<p>"Guns?"</p> +<p>She stared at him. He appeared quite sane.</p> +<p>"I remember now I was thinking of guns when I went away," he +explained. "They're interesting things to think about."</p> +<p>"But don't you understand that I owe you a louis? I forgot all +about it. If my purse weren't empty I would repay you. Will you +stay here till I can get some money from my hotel—the +Hôtel de Paris?"</p> +<p>She spoke with some vehemence. How could the creature expect her +to remain in his debt? But the creature only passed his fingers +through his upstanding hair and smiled wanly.</p> +<p>"Please don't say anything more about it. It distresses me. The +croupiers don't return the stake, as a general rule, unless you ask +for it. They assume you want to back your luck. Perhaps it has won +again. For goodness' sake don't bother about it—and thank you +very, very much."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id= +"Page_17"></a>[17]</span>He bowed politely and moved a step or two +away. But Zora, struck by a solution of the mystery which had not +occurred to her, as one cannot grasp all the ways and customs of +gaming establishments in ten minutes, rushed back to the other +table. She arrived just in time to hear the croupier asking whom +the louis on seventeen belonged to. The number had turned up +again.</p> +<p>This time she brought the thirty-six louis to the stranger.</p> +<p>"Dear me," said he, taking the money. "It is very astonishing. +But why did you trouble?"</p> +<p>"Because I'm a woman of common sense, I suppose."</p> +<p>He looked at the coins in his hand as if they were shells which +a child at the seaside might have brought him, and then raised his +eyes slowly to hers.</p> +<p>"You are a very gracious lady." His glance and tone checked an +impulse of exasperation. She smiled.</p> +<p>"At any rate, I've won fifty-six pounds for you, and you ought +to be grateful."</p> +<p>He made a little gesture of acknowledgement. Had he been a more +dashing gentleman he might have expressed his gratitude for the +mere privilege of conversing with a gracious lady so beautiful. +They had drifted from the outskirts of the crowded table and found +themselves in the thinner crowd of saunterers. It was the height of +the Monte Carlo season and the feathers and diamonds and rouge and +greedy eyes and rusty bonnets of all nations confused the sight and +paralyzed thought. Yet among all the women of both worlds Zora +Middlemist stood out remarkable. As Septimus Dix afterwards +explained, the rooms that evening contained a vague kind of +conglomerate woman and Zora Middlemist. And the herd of men envied +the creature on whom she smiled so graciously.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id= +"Page_18"></a>[18]</span>She was dressed in black, as became a +young widow, but it was a black which bore no sign of mourning. The +black, sweeping ostrich plume of a picture hat gave her an air of +triumph. Black gloves reaching more than halfway up shapely arms +and a gleam of snowy neck above a black chiffon bodice disquieted +the imagination. She towered over her present companion, who was +five foot seven and slimly built.</p> +<p>"You've brought me all this stuff, but what am I to do with it?" +he asked helplessly.</p> +<p>"Perhaps I had better take care of it for you."</p> +<p>It was a relief from the oppressive loneliness to talk to a +human being; so she lingered wistfully in conversation. A pathetic +eagerness came into the man's face.</p> +<p>"I wish you would," said he, drawing a handful from his jacket +pocket. "I should be so much happier."</p> +<p>"You can hardly be such a gambler," she laughed.</p> +<p>"Oh, no! It's not that at all. Gambling bores me."</p> +<p>"Why do you play, then?"</p> +<p>"I don't. I staked that louis because I wanted to see whether I +should be interested. I wasn't, as I began to think about the guns. +Have you had breakfast?"</p> +<p>Again Zora was startled. A sane man does not talk of +breakfasting at nine o'clock in the evening. But if he were a +lunatic perhaps it were wise to humor him.</p> +<p>"Yes," she said. "Have you?"</p> +<p>"No. I've only just got up."</p> +<p>"Do you mean to say you've been asleep all day?"</p> +<p>"What's the noisy day made for?"</p> +<p>"Let us sit down," said Zora.</p> +<p>They found one of the crimson couches by the wall vacant, and +sat down. Zora regarded him curiously.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id= +"Page_19"></a>[19]</span>Why should you be happier if I took care +of your money?"</p> +<p>"I shouldn't spend it. I might meet a man who wanted to sell me +a gas-engine."</p> +<p>"But you needn't buy it."</p> +<p>"These fellows are so persuasive, you see. At Rotterdam last +year, a man made me buy a second-hand dentist's chair."</p> +<p>"Are you a dentist?" asked Zora.</p> +<p>"Lord, no! If I were I could have used the horrible chair."</p> +<p>"What did you do with it?"</p> +<p>"I had it packed up and despatched, carriage paid, to an +imaginary person at Singapore."</p> +<p>He made this announcement in his tired, gentle manner, without +the flicker of a smile. He added, reflectively—</p> +<p>"That sort of thing becomes expensive. Don't you find it +so?"</p> +<p>"I would defy anybody to sell me a thing I didn't want," she +replied.</p> +<p>"Ah, that," said he with a glance of wistful admiration, "that +is because you have red hair."</p> +<p>If any other strange male had talked about her hair, Zora +Middlemist would have drawn herself up in Junoesque majesty and +blighted him with a glance. She had done with men and their +compliments forever. In that she prided herself on her +Amazonianism. But she could not be angry with the inconclusive +being to whom she was talking. As well resent the ingenuous remarks +of a four-year-old child.</p> +<p>"What has my red hair to do with it?" she asked pleasantly.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id= +"Page_20"></a>[20]</span>It was a red-haired man who sold me the +dentist's chair."</p> +<p>"Oh!" said Zora, nonplussed.</p> +<p>There was a pause. The man leaned back, embracing one knee with +both hands. They were nerveless, indeterminate hands, with long +fingers, such as are in the habit of dropping things. Zora wondered +how they supported his knee. For some time he stared into vacancy, +his pale-blue eyes adream. Zora laughed.</p> +<p>"Guns?" she asked.</p> +<p>"No," said he, awaking to her presence. "Perambulators."</p> +<p>She rose. "I thought you might be thinking of breakfast. I must +be going back to my hotel. These rooms are too hot and horrible. +Good night."</p> +<p>"I will see you to the lift, if you'll allow me," he said +politely.</p> +<p>She graciously assented and they left the rooms together. In the +atrium she changed her mind about the lift. She would leave the +Casino by the main entrance and walk over to the Hôtel de +Paris for the sake of a breath of fresh air. At the top of the +steps she paused and filled her lungs. It was a still, moonless +night, and the stars hung low down, like diamonds on a canopy of +black velvet. They made the flaring lights of the terrace of the +Hôtel and Café de Paris look tawdry and +meretricious.</p> +<p>"I hate them," she said, pointing to the latter.</p> +<p>"Stars are better," said her companion.</p> +<p>She turned on him swiftly.</p> +<p>"How did you know I was making comparisons?"</p> +<p>"I felt it," he murmured.</p> +<p>They walked slowly down the steps. At the bottom a <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span>carriage +and pair seemed to rise mysteriously out of the earth.</p> +<p>"'Ave a drive? Ver' good carriage," said a voice out of the +dimness. Monte Carlo cabmen are unerring in their divination of the +Anglo-Saxon.</p> +<p>Why not? The suggestion awoke in her an instant craving for the +true beauty of the land. It was unconventional, audacious, crazy. +But, again, why not? Zora Middlemist was answerable for her actions +to no man or woman alive. Why not drink a great draught of the +freedom that was hers? What did it matter that the man was a +stranger? All the more daring the adventure. Her heart beat gladly. +But chaste women, like children, know instinctively the man they +can trust.</p> +<p>"Shall we?"</p> +<p>"Drive?"</p> +<p>"Yes—unless—" a thought suddenly striking +her—"unless you want to go back to your friends."</p> +<p>"Good Lord!" said he, aghast, as if she were accusing him of +criminal associations. "I have no friends."</p> +<p>"Then come."</p> +<p>She entered the carriage. He followed meekly and sat beside her. +Where should they drive? The cabman suggested the coast road to +Mentone. She agreed. On the point of starting she observed that her +companion was bare-headed.</p> +<p>"You've forgotten your hat."</p> +<p>She spoke to him as she would have done to a child.</p> +<p>"Why bother about hats?"</p> +<p>"You'll catch your death of cold. Go and get it at once."</p> +<p>He obeyed with a docility which sent a little tingle of +exaltation through Mrs. Middlemist. A woman may have <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span>an +inordinate antipathy to men, but she loves them to do her bidding. +Zora was a woman; she was also young.</p> +<p>He returned. The cabman whipped up his strong pair of horses, +and they started through the town towards Mentone.</p> +<p>Zora lay back on the cushions and drank in the sensuous +loveliness of the night—the warm, scented air, the velvet and +diamond sky, the fragrant orange groves—the dim, mysterious +olive trees, the looming hills, the wine-colored, silken sea, with +its faint edging of lace on the dusky sweep of the bay. The spirit +of the South overspread her with its wings and took her amorously +in its arms.</p> +<p>After a long, long silence she sighed, remembering her +companion.</p> +<p>"Thank you for not talking," she said softly.</p> +<p>"Don't," he replied. "I had nothing to say. I never talk. I've +scarcely talked for a year."</p> +<p>She laughed idly.</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"No one to talk to. Except my man," he added conscientiously. +"His name is Wiggleswick."</p> +<p>"I hope he looks after you well," said Zora, with a touch of +maternal instinct.</p> +<p>"He wants training. That's what I am always telling him. But he +can't hear. He's seventy and stone-deaf. But he's interesting. He +tells me about jails and things."</p> +<p>"Jails?"</p> +<p>"Yes. He spent most of his time in prison. He was a professional +burglar—but then he got on in years. Besides, the younger +generation was knocking at the door."</p> +<p>"I thought that was the last thing a burglar would do," said +Zora.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id= +"Page_23"></a>[23]</span>They generally use jemmies," he said +gravely. "Wiggleswick has given me his collection. They're very +useful."</p> +<p>"What for?" she asked.</p> +<p>"To kill moths with," he replied dreamily.</p> +<p>"But what made you take a superannuated burglar for a +valet?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. Perhaps it was Wiggleswick himself. He came up to +me one day as I was sitting in Kensington Gardens, and somehow +followed me home."</p> +<p>"But, good gracious," cried Zora—forgetful for the moment +of stars and sea—"aren't you afraid that he will rob +you?"</p> +<p>"No. I asked him, and he explained. You see, it would be out of +his line. A forger only forges, a pickpocket only snatches chains +and purses, and a burglar only burgles. Now, he couldn't burgle the +place in which he was living himself, so I am safe."</p> +<p>Zora gave him sage counsel.</p> +<p>"I'd get rid of him if I were you."</p> +<p>"If I were you, I would—but I can't," he replied. "If I +told him to go he wouldn't. I go instead sometimes. That's why I'm +here."</p> +<p>"If you go on talking like that, you'll make my brain reel," +said Zora laughing. "Do tell me something about yourself. What is +your name?"</p> +<p>"Septimus Dix. I've got another name—Ajax—Septimus +Ajax Dix—but I never use it."</p> +<p>"That's a pity," said Zora. "Ajax is a lovely name."</p> +<p>He dissented in his vague fashion. "Ajax suggests somebody who +defies lightning and fools about with a spear. It's a silly name. A +maiden aunt persuaded my mother to give it to me. I think she mixed +it up with Achilles. She <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" +id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span>admired the statue in Hyde Park. She +got run over by a milkcart."</p> +<p>"When was that?" she inquired, more out of politeness than +interest in the career of Mr. Dix's maiden aunt.</p> +<p>"A minute before she died."</p> +<p>"Oh," said Zora, taken aback by the emotionless manner in which +he mentioned the tragedy. Then, by way of continuing the +conversation:—</p> +<p>"Why are you called Septimus?"</p> +<p>"I'm the seventh son. All the others died young. I never could +make out why I didn't."</p> +<p>"Perhaps," said Zora with a laugh, "you were thinking of +something else at the time and lost the opportunity."</p> +<p>"It must have been that," said he. "I lose opportunities just as +I always lose trains."</p> +<p>"How do you manage to get anywhere?"</p> +<p>"I wait for the next train. That's easy. But there's never +another opportunity."</p> +<p>He drew a cigarette from his case, put it in his mouth, and +fumbled in his pockets for matches. Finding none, he threw the +cigarette into the road.</p> +<p>"That's just like you," cried Zora. "Why didn't you ask the +cabman for a light?"</p> +<p>She laughed at him with an odd sense of intimacy, though she had +known him for scarcely an hour. He seemed rather a stray child than +a man. She longed to befriend him—to do something for him, +motherwise—she knew not what. Her adventure by now had failed +to be adventurous. The spice of danger had vanished. She knew she +could sit beside this helpless being till the day of doom without +fear of molestation by word or act.</p> +<p>He obtained a light for his cigarette from the cabman +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id= +"Page_25"></a>[25]</span>and smoked in silence. Gradually the +languor of the night again stole over her senses, and she forgot +his existence. The carriage had turned homeward, and at a bend of +the road, high up above the sea, Monte Carlo came into view, +gleaming white far away below, like a group of fairy palaces lit by +fairy lamps, sheltered by the great black promontory of Monaco. +From the gorge on the left, the terraced rock on the right, came +the smell of the wild thyme and rosemary and the perfume of pale +flowers. The touch of the air on her cheek was a warm and scented +kiss. The diamond stars drooped towards her like a Danaë +shower. Like Danaë's, her lips were parted. Her eyes strained +far beyond the stars into an unknown glory, and her heart throbbed +with a passionate desire for unknown things. Of what nature they +might be she did not dream. Not love. Zora Middlemist had forsworn +it. Not the worship of a man. She had vowed by all the saints in +her hierarchy that no man should ever again enter her life. Her +soul revolted against the unutterable sex.</p> +<p>As soon as one realizes the exquisite humbug of sublunary +existence he must weep for the pity of it.</p> +<p>The warm and scented air was a kiss, too, on the cheek of +Septimus Dix; and his senses, too, were enthralled by the witchery +of the night. But for him stars and scented air and the magic +beauty of the sea were incarnate in the woman by his side.</p> +<p>Zora, as I have said, had forgotten the poor devil's +existence.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span>CHAPTER +III</h2> +<p>When they drove up to the Hôtel de Paris, she alighted and +bade him a smiling farewell, and went to her room with the +starlight in her eyes. The lift man asked if Madame had won. She +dangled her empty purse and laughed. Then the lift man, who had +seen that light in women's eyes before, made certain that she was +in love, and opened the lift door for her with the confidential air +of the Latin who knows sweet secrets. But the lift man was wrong. +No man had a part in her soul's exultation. If Septimus Dix crossed +her mind while she was undressing, it was as a grotesque, bearing +the same relation to her emotional impression of the night as a +gargoyle does to a cathedral. When she went to bed, she slept the +sound sleep of youth.</p> +<p>Septimus, after dismissing the cab, wandered in his vague way +over to the Café de Paris, instinct suggesting his belated +breakfast, which, like his existence, Zora had forgotten. The +waiter came.</p> +<p><i>"Monsieur désire?"</i></p> +<p>"Absinthe," murmured Septimus absent-mindedly, +"and—er—poached eggs—and anything—a +raspberry ice."</p> +<p>The waiter gazed at him in stupefaction; but nothing being too +astounding in Monte Carlo, he wiped the cold perspiration from his +forehead and executed the order.</p> +<p>The unholy meal being over, Septimus drifted into the square and +spent most of the night on a bench gazing at the Hôtel de +Paris and wondering which were her windows.<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> When she +mentioned casually, a day or two later, that her windows looked the +other way over the sea, he felt that Destiny had fooled him once +more; but for the time being he found a gentle happiness in his +speculation. Chilled to the bone, at last, he sought his hotel +bedroom and smoked a pipe, meditative, with his hat on until the +morning. Then he went to bed.</p> +<p>Two mornings afterwards Zora came upon him on the Casino +terrace. He sprawled idly on a bench between a fat German and his +fat wife, who were talking across him. His straw hat was tilted +over his eyes and his legs were crossed. In spite of the +conversation (and a middle-class German does not whisper when he +talks to his wife), and the going and coming of the crowd—in +spite of the sunshine and the blue air, he slumbered peacefully. +Zora passed him once or twice. Then by the station lift she paused +and looked out at the bay of Mentone clasping the sea—a blue +enamel in a setting of gold. She stood for some moments lost in the +joy of it when a voice behind her brought her back to the +commonplace.</p> +<p>"Very lovely, isn't it?"</p> +<p>A thin-faced Englishman of uncertain age and yellow, evil eyes +met her glance as she turned instinctively.</p> +<p>"Yes, it's beautiful," she replied coldly; "but that is no +reason why you should take the liberty of speaking to me."</p> +<p>"I couldn't help sharing my emotions with another, especially +one so beautiful. You seem to be alone here?"</p> +<p>Now she remembered having seen him before—rather +frequently. The previous evening he had somewhat ostentatiously +selected a table near hers at dinner. He had watched her as she had +left the theater and followed her to the lift door. He had been +watching for his opportunity <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span>and now thought it had come. +She shivered with sudden anger, and round her heart crept the chill +of fright which all women know who have been followed in a lonely +street.</p> +<p>"I certainly am not alone," she said wrathfully. "Good +morning."</p> +<p>The man covered his defeat by raising his hat with ironic +politeness, and Zora walked swiftly away, in appearance a majestic +Amazon, but inwardly a quivering woman. She marched straight up to +the recumbent Dix. The Literary Man from London would have been +amused. She interposed herself between the conversing Teutons and +awakened the sleeper. He looked at her for a moment with a dreamy +smile, then leaped to his feet.</p> +<p>"A man has insulted me—he has been following me about and +tried to get into conversation with me."</p> +<p>"Dear me," said Septimus. "What shall I do? Shall I shoot +him?"</p> +<p>"Don't be silly," she said seriously. "It's serious. I'd be glad +if you'd kindly walk up and down a little with me."</p> +<p>"With pleasure." They strolled away together. "But I <i>am</i> +serious. If you wanted me to shoot him I'd do it. I'd do anything +in the world for you. I've got a revolver in my room."</p> +<p>She laughed, disclaiming desire for supreme vengeance.</p> +<p>"I only want to show the wretch that I am not a helpless woman," +she observed, with the bewildering illogic of the sex. And as she +passed by the offender she smiled down at her companion with all +the sweetness of intimacy and asked him why he carried a revolver. +She did not point the offender out, be it remarked, to the +bloodthirsty Septimus.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id= +"Page_29"></a>[29]</span>It belongs to Wiggleswick," he replied in +answer to her question. "I promised to take care of it for +him."</p> +<p>"What does Wiggleswick do when you are away?"</p> +<p>"He reads the police reports. I take in <i>Reynolds</i> and the +<i>News of the World</i> and the illustrated <i>Police News</i> for +him, and he cuts them out and gums them in a scrap book. But I +think I'm happier without Wiggleswick. He interferes with my +guns."</p> +<p>"By the way," said Zora, "you talked about guns the other +evening. What have you got to do with guns?"</p> +<p>He looked at her in a scared way out of the corner of his eye, +child-fashion, as though to make sure she was loyal and worthy of +confidence, and then he said:</p> +<p>"I invent 'em. I have written a treatise on guns of large +caliber."</p> +<p>"Really?" cried Zora, taken by surprise. She had not credited +him with so serious a vocation. "Do tell me something about +it."</p> +<p>"Not now," he pleaded. "Some other time. I'd have to sit down +with paper and pencil and draw diagrams. I'm afraid you wouldn't +like it. Wiggleswick doesn't. It bores him. You must be born with +machinery in your blood. Sometimes it's uncomfortable."</p> +<p>"To have cogwheels instead of corpuscles must be trying," said +Zora flippantly.</p> +<p>"Very," said he. "The great thing is to keep them clear of the +heart."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" she asked quickly.</p> +<p>"Whatever one does or tries to do, one should insist on +remaining human. It's good to be human, isn't it? I once knew a man +who was just a complicated mechanism of brain encased in a body. +His heart didn't beat; it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" +id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span>clicked and whirred. It caused the +death of the most perfect woman in the world."</p> +<p>He looked dreamily into the blue ether between sea and sky. Zora +felt strangely drawn to him.</p> +<p>"Who was it?" she asked softly.</p> +<p>"My mother," said he.</p> +<p>They had paused in their stroll, and were leaning over the +parapet above the railway line. After a few moments' silence he +added, with a faint smile:—</p> +<p>"That's why I try hard to keep myself human—so that, if a +woman should ever care for me, I shouldn't hurt her."</p> +<p>A green caterpillar was crawling on his sleeve. In his vague +manner he picked it tenderly off and laid it on the leaf of an aloe +that grew in the terrace vase near which he stood.</p> +<p>"You couldn't even hurt that crawling thing—let alone a +woman," said Zora. This time very softly.</p> +<p>He blushed. "If you kill a caterpillar you kill a butterfly," he +said apologetically.</p> +<p>"And if you kill a woman?"</p> +<p>"Is there anything higher?" said he.</p> +<p>She made no reply, her misanthropical philosophy prompting none. +There was rather a long silence, which he broke by asking her if +she read Persian. He excused his knowledge of it by saying that it +kept him human. She laughed and suggested a continuance of their +stroll. He talked disconnectedly as they walked up and down.</p> +<p>The crowd on the terrace thinned as the hour of déjeuner +approached. Presently she proclaimed her hunger. He murmured that +it must be near dinner time. She protested. He passed his hands +across his eyes and confessed <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span>that he had got mixed up in +his meals the last few days. Then an idea struck him.</p> +<p>"If I skip afternoon tea, and dinner, and supper, and petit +déjeuner, and have two breakfasts running," he exclaimed +brightly, "I shall begin fair again." And he laughed, not loud, but +murmuringly, for the first time.</p> +<p>They went round the Casino to the front of the Hôtel de +Paris, their natural parting place. But there, on the steps, with +legs apart, stood the wretch with the evil eyes. He looked at her +from afar, banteringly. Defiance rose in Zora's soul. She would +again show him that she was not a lone and helpless woman at the +mercy of the casual depredator.</p> +<p>"I'm taking you in to lunch with me, Mr. Dix. You can't refuse," +she said; and without waiting for a reply she sailed majestically +past the wretch, followed meekly by Septimus, as if she owned him +body and soul.</p> +<p>As usual, many eyes were turned on her as she entered the +restaurant—a radiant figure in white, with black hat and +black chiffon boa, and a deep red rose in her bosom. The +maître d'hôtel, in the pride of reflected glory, +conducted her to a table near the window. Septimus trailed +inconclusively behind. When he seated himself he stared at her +silently in a mute surmise as the gentlemen in the poem did at the +peak in Darien. It was even a wilder adventure than the memorable +drive. That was but a caprice of the goddess; this was a sign of +her friendship. The newness of their intimacy smote him dumb. He +passed his hand through his Struwel Peter hair and wondered. Was it +real? There sat the goddess, separated from him by the strip of +damask, her gold-flecked eyes smiling frankly and trustfully into +his, pulling off her gloves and disclosing, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span>in almost +disconcerting intimacy, her warm wrists and hands. Was he dreaming, +as he sometimes did, in broad daylight, of a queer heaven in which +he was strong like other men and felt the flutter of wings upon his +cheek? Something soft was in his hand. Mechanically he began to +stuff it up his sleeve. It was his napkin. Zora's laugh brought him +to earth—to happy earth.</p> +<p>It is a pleasant thing to linger +<i>tête-à-tête</i> over lunch on the terrace of +the Hôtel de Paris. Outside is the shade of the square, the +blazing sunshine beyond the shadow; the fountain and the palms and +the doves; the white gaiety of pleasure houses; the blue-gray +mountains cut sharp against the violet sky. Inside, a symphony of +cool tones: the pearl of summer dresses; the snow, crystal, and +silver of the tables; the tender green of lettuce, the yellows of +fruit, the soft pink of salmon; here and there a bold note of +color—the flowers in a woman's hat, the purples and topazes +of wine. Nearer still to the sense is the charm of privacy. The one +human being for you in the room is your companion. The space round +your chairs is a magic circle, cutting you off from the others, who +are mere decorations, beautiful or grotesque. Between you are +substances which it were gross to call food: dainty mysteries of +coolness and sudden flavors; a fish salad in which the essences of +sea and land are blended in cold, celestial harmony; innermost +kernels of the lamb of the salted meadows where must grow the +Asphodel on which it fed, in amorous union with what men call a +sauce, but really oil and cream and herbs stirred by a god in a +dream; peaches in purple ichor chastely clad in snow, melting on +the palate as the voice of the divine singer after whom they are +named melts in the soul.</p> +<p>It is a pleasant thing—hedonistic? yes; but why live on +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id= +"Page_33"></a>[33]</span>lentils when lotus is to your hand? and, +really, at Monte Carlo lentils are quite as expensive—it is a +pleasant thing, even for the food-worn wanderer of many +restaurants, to lunch <i>tête-à-tête</i> at the +Hôtel de Paris; but for the young and fresh-hearted to whom +it is new, it is enchantment.</p> +<p>"I've often looked at people eating like this and I've often +wondered how it felt," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"But you must have lunched hundreds of times in such +places."</p> +<p>"Yes—but by myself. I've never had a—" he paused. "A +what?"</p> +<p>"A—a gracious lady," he said, reddening, "to sit opposite +me."</p> +<p>"Why not?"</p> +<p>"No one has ever wanted me. It has always puzzled me how men get +to know women and go about with them. I think it must be a gift," +he asserted with the profound gravity of a man who has solved a +psychological problem. "Some fellows have a gift for collecting +Toby jugs. Everywhere they go they discover a Toby jug. I couldn't +find one if I tried for a year. It's the same thing. At Cambridge +they used to call me the Owl."</p> +<p>"An owl catches mice, at any rate," said Zora.</p> +<p>"So do I. Do you like mice?"</p> +<p>"No. I want to catch lions and tigers and all the bright and +burning things of life," cried Zora, in a burst of confidence.</p> +<p>He regarded her with wistful admiration.</p> +<p>"Your whole life must be full of such things."</p> +<p>"I wonder," she said, looking at him over the spoonful of +pêche Melba which she was going to put in her +mouth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id= +"Page_34"></a>[34]</span> "I wonder whether you have the faintest +idea who I am and what I am and what I'm doing here all by myself, +and why you and I are lunching together in this delightful fashion. +You have told me all about yourself—but you seem to take me +for granted."</p> +<p>She was ever so little piqued at his apparent indifference. But +if men like Septimus Dix did not take women for granted, where +would be the chivalry and faith of the children of the world? He +accepted her unquestioningly as the simple Trojan accepted the +Olympian lady who appeared to him clad in grace (but otherwise +scantily) from a rosy cloud.</p> +<p>"You are yourself," he said, "and that has been enough for +me."</p> +<p>"How do you know I'm not an adventuress? There are heaps of +them, people say, in this place. I might be a designing thief of a +woman."</p> +<p>"I offered you the charge of my money the other night."</p> +<p>"Was that why you did it? To test me?" she asked.</p> +<p>He reddened and started as if stung. She saw the hurt instantly, +and with a gush of remorse begged for forgiveness.</p> +<p>"No. I didn't mean it. It was horrid of me. It is not in your +nature to think such a thing. Forgive me."</p> +<p>Frankly, impulsively, she stretched her hand across the table. +He touched it timidly with his ineffectual fingers, not knowing +what to do with it, vaguely wondering whether he should raise it to +his lips, and so kept touching it, until she pressed his fingers in +a little grip of friendliness, and withdrew it with a laugh.</p> +<p>"Do you know, I still have that money," he said, pulling a +handful of great five-louis pieces from his pocket. "I can't spend +it. I've tried to. I bought a dog yesterday <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span>but he +wanted to bite me and I had to give him to the hotel porter. All +this gold makes such a bulge in my pocket."</p> +<p>When Zora explained that the coins were only used as counters +and could be changed for notes at the rooms, he was astonished at +her sapience. He had never thought of it. Thus Zora regained her +sense of superiority.</p> +<p>This lunch was the first of many meals they had together; and +meals led to drives and excursions, and to evenings at the theater. +If she desired still further to convince the wretch with the evil +eyes of her befriended state, she succeeded; but the wretch and his +friends speculated evilly on the relations between her and Septimus +Dix. They credited her with pots of money. Zora, however, walked +serene, unconscious of slander, enjoying herself prodigiously. +Secure in her scorn and hatred of men she saw no harm in her +actions. Nor was there any, from the point of view of her young +egotism and inexperience. It scarcely occurred to her that Septimus +was a man. In some aspects he appealed to her instinctive +motherhood like a child. When she met him one day coming out of one +of the shops in the arcade, wearing a newly bought Homburg hat too +small for him, she marched him back with a delicious sense of +responsibility and stood over him till he was adequately fitted. In +other aspects he was like a woman in whose shy delicacy she could +confide. She awoke also to a new realization—that of power. +Now, to use power with propriety needs wisdom, and the woman who is +wise at five-and-twenty cannot make out at sixty why she has +remained an old maid. The delightful way to use it is that of a +babe when he first discovers that a stick hits. That is the way +that Zora, who was not wise, used it over Septimus. For the first +time in her life she owned a human being. A former joy in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id= +"Page_36"></a>[36]</span>possession of a devoted dog who did tricks +was as nothing to this rapture. It was splendid. She owned him. +Whenever she had a desire for his company—which was often, as +solitude at Monte Carlo is more depressing than Zora had +realized—she sent a page boy, in the true quality of his name +of <i>chasseur</i>, to hunt down the quarry and bring him back. He +would, therefore, be awakened at unearthly hours, at three o'clock +in the afternoon, for instance, when, as he said, all rational +beings should be asleep, it being their own unreason if they were +not; or he would be tracked down at ten in the morning to some +obscure little café in the town where he would be discovered +eating ices and looking the worse for wear in his clothes of the +night before. As this meant delay in the execution of her wishes, +Zora prescribed habits less irregular. By means of bribery of +chambermaids and porters, and the sacrifice of food and sleep, he +contrived to find himself dressed in decent time in the mornings. +He would then patiently await her orders or call modestly for them +at her residence, like the butcher or the greengrocer.</p> +<p>"Why does your hair stand up on end, in that queer fashion?" she +asked him one day. The hat episode had led to a general regulation +of his personal appearance.</p> +<p>He pondered gravely over the conundrum for some time, and then +replied that he must have lost control over it. The command went +forth that he should visit a barber and learn how to control his +hair. He obeyed, and returned with his shock parted in the middle +and plastered down heavily with pomatum, a saint of more than +methodistical meekness. On Zora declaring that he looked awful (he +was indeed inconceivably hideous), and that she preferred Struwel +Peter after all, he dutifully washed his head with <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span>soda (after +grave consultation with the chambermaid), and sunned himself once +more in the smiles of his mistress.</p> +<p>Now and then, however, as she was kind and not tyrannical, she +felt a pin-prick of compunction.</p> +<p>"If you would rather do anything else, don't hesitate to say +so."</p> +<p>But Septimus, after having contemplated the world's +potentialities of action with lack-luster eye, would declare that +there was nothing else that could be done. Then she could rate him +soundly.</p> +<p>"If I proposed that we should sail up the Andes and eat fried +moonbeams, you would say 'yes.' Why haven't you more +initiative?"</p> +<p>"I'm like Mrs. Shandy," he replied. "Some people are born so. +They are quiescent; other people can jump about like grasshoppers. +Do you know grasshoppers are very interesting?" And he began to +talk irrelevantly on insects.</p> +<p>Their intercourse encouraged confidential autobiography. Zora +learned the whole of his barren history. Fatherless, motherless, +brotherless, he was alone in the world. From his father, Sir +Erasmus Dix, a well-known engineer, to whose early repression much +of Septimus's timidity was due, he had inherited a modest fortune. +After leaving Cambridge he had wandered aimlessly about Europe. Now +he lived in a little house in Shepherd's Bush, with a studio or +shed at the end of the garden which he used as a laboratory.</p> +<p>"Why Shepherd's Bush?" asked Zora.</p> +<p>"Wiggleswick likes it," said he.</p> +<p>"And now he has the whole house to himself? I suppose he makes +himself comfortable in your quarters and <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span>drinks your +wine and smokes your cigars with his friends. Did you lock things +up?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, of course," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"And where are the keys?"</p> +<p>"Why Wiggleswick has them," he replied.</p> +<p>Zora drew in her breath. "You don't know how angry you make me. +If ever I meet Wiggleswick—"</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"I'll talk to him," said Zora with a fine air of menace.</p> +<p>She, on her side, gave him such of her confidences as were meet +for masculine ears. Naturally she impressed upon him the fact that +his sex was abhorrent to her in all its physical, moral, and +spiritual manifestations. Septimus, on thinking the matter over, +agreed with her. Memories came back to him of the men with whom he +had been intimate. His father, the mechanical man who had cogs +instead of corpuscles in his blood, Wiggleswick the undesirable, a +few rowdy men on his staircase at Cambridge who had led shocking +lives—once making a bonfire of his pyjamas and a brand-new +umbrella in the middle of the court—and had since come to +early and disastrous ends. His impressions of the sex were +distinctly bad. Germs of unutterable depravity, he was sure, lurked +somewhere in his own nature.</p> +<p>"You make me feel," said he, "as if I weren't fit to black the +boots of Jezebel."</p> +<p>"That's a proper frame of mind," said Zora. "Would you be good +and tie this vexatious shoestring?"</p> +<p>The poor fool bent over it in reverent ecstasy, but Zora was +only conscious of the reddening of his gills as he stooped.</p> +<p>This, to her, was the charm of their intercourse: that he never +presumed upon their intimacy. When she remem<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span>bered the +prophecy of the Literary Man from London, she laughed at it +scornfully. Here was a man, at any rate, who regarded her beauty +unconcerned, and from whose society she derived no emotional +experiences. She felt she could travel safely with him to the end +of the earth.</p> +<p>This reflection came to her one morning while Turner, her maid, +was brushing her hair. The corollary followed: "why not?"</p> +<p>"Turner," she said, "I'll soon have seen enough of Monte Carlo. +I must go to Paris. What do you think of my asking Mr. Dix to come +with us?"</p> +<p>"I think it would be most improper, ma'am," said Turner.</p> +<p>"There's nothing at all improper about it," cried Zora, with a +flush. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span>CHAPTER +IV</h2> +<p>At Monte Carlo, as all the world knows, there is an Arcade +devoted to the most humorously expensive lace, diamond and general +vanity shops in the universe, the Hôtel Métropole and +Ciro's Restaurant. And Ciro's has a terrace where there are little +afternoon tea-tables covered with pink cloths.</p> +<p>It was late in the afternoon, and save for a burly Englishman in +white flannels and a Panama hat, reading a magazine by the door, +and Zora and Septimus, who sat near the public gangway, the terrace +was deserted. Inside, some men lounged about the bar drinking +cocktails. The red Tzigane orchestra were already filing into the +restaurant and the electric lamps were lit. Zora and Septimus had +just returned from a day's excursion to Cannes. They were +pleasantly tired and lingered over their tea in a companionable +silence. Septimus ruminated dreamily over the nauseous entanglement +of a chocolate eclair and a cigarette while Zora idly watched the +burly Englishman. Presently she saw him do an odd thing. He tore +out the middle of the magazine,—it bore an American title on +the outside,—handed it to the waiter and put the +advertisement pages in his pocket. From another pocket he drew +another magazine, and read the advertisement pages of that with +concentrated interest.</p> +<p>Her attention was soon distracted by a young couple, man and +woman, decently dressed, who passed along the terrace, glanced at +her, repassed and looked at her more <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span>attentively, the woman +wistfully, and then stopped out of earshot and spoke a few words +together. They returned, seemed to hesitate, and at last the woman, +taking courage, advanced and addressed her.</p> +<p>"<i>Pardon, Madame</i>—but Madame looks so kind. Perhaps +will she pardon the liberty of my addressing her?"</p> +<p>Zora smiled graciously. The woman was young, fragile, careworn, +and a piteous appeal lay in her eyes. The man drew near and raised +his hat apologetically. The woman continued. They had seen Madame +there—and Monsieur—both looked kind, like all English +people. Although she was French she was forced to admit the +superior generosity of the English. They had hesitated, but the +kind look of Madame had made her confident. They were from Havre. +They had come to Nice to look after a lawsuit. Nearly all their +money had gone. They had a little baby who was ill. In desperation +they had brought the remainder of their slender fortune to Monte +Carlo. They had lost it. It was foolish, but yet the baby came out +that day with nine red spots on its chest and it seemed as if it +was a sign from the bon Dieu that they should back nine and red at +the tables. Now she knew too late that it was measles and not a +sign from the bon Dieu at all. But they were penniless. The baby +wanted physic and a doctor and would die. As a last resource they +resolved to sink their pride and appeal to the generosity of +Monsieur and Madame. The woman's wistful eyes filled with tears and +the corners of her mouth quivered. The man with a great effort +choked a sob. Zora's generous heart melted at the tale. It rang so +stupidly true. The fragile creature's air was so pathetic. She +opened her purse.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id= +"Page_42"></a>[42]</span>Will a hundred francs be of any use to +you?" she asked in her schoolgirl French.</p> +<p>"Oh, Madame!"</p> +<p>"And I, too, will give a hundred to the baby," said Septimus. "I +like babies and I've also had the measles." He opened his +pocketbook.</p> +<p>"Oh, Monsieur," said the man. "How can I ever be sufficiently +grateful?"</p> +<p>He held out his hand for the note, when something hit him +violently in the back. It was the magazine hurled by the burly +Englishman, who followed up the assault by a torrent of abuse.</p> +<p><i>"Allez-vous-ong! Cochons! Et plus vite que ça!"</i> +There was something terrific in his awful British accent.</p> +<p>The pair turned in obvious dismay. He waved them off.</p> +<p>"Don't give them anything. The baby hasn't any red spots. There +isn't a baby. They daren't show their noses in the rooms. <i>Oh je +vous connais. Vous êtes George Polin et Celestine Macrou. +Sales voleurs. Allez-vous-ong ou j'appelle la police</i>."</p> +<p>But the last few words were shouted to the swiftly retiring +backs of the pathetic couple.</p> +<p>"I've saved you two hundred francs," said the burly Englishman, +picking up his magazine and tenderly smoothing it. "Those two are +the most accomplished swindlers in this den of thieves."</p> +<p>"I can't believe it," said Zora, half hurt, half resentful. "The +woman's eyes were full of tears."</p> +<p>"It's true," said her champion. "And the best of it is that the +man is actually an accredited agent of Jebusa Jones's Cuticle +Remedy."</p> +<p>He stood, his hands on his broad hips, regarding her with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id= +"Page_43"></a>[43]</span>the piercing eyes of a man who is +imparting an incredible but all-important piece of information.</p> +<p>"Why the best of it?" asked Zora, puzzled.</p> +<p>"It only shows how unscrupulous they are in their business +methods. A man like that could persuade a fishmonger or an +undertaker to stock it. But he'll do them in the end. They'll +suffer for it."</p> +<p>"Who will?"</p> +<p>"Why, Jebusa Jones, of course. Oh, I see," he continued, looking +at the two perplexed faces, "you don't know who I am. I am Clem +Sypher."</p> +<p>He looked from one to the other as if to see the impression made +by his announcement.</p> +<p>"I am glad to make your acquaintance," said Septimus, "and I +thank you for your services."</p> +<p>"Your name?"</p> +<p>"My name is Dix—Septimus Dix."</p> +<p>"Delighted to meet you. I have seen you before. Two years ago. +You were sitting alone in the lounge of the Hôtel +Continental, Paris. You were suffering from severe abrasions on +your face."</p> +<p>"Dear me," said Septimus. "I remember. I had shaved myself with +a safety razor. I invented it."</p> +<p>"I was going to speak to you, but I was prevented." He turned to +Zora.</p> +<p>"I've met you too, on Vesuvius in January. You were with two +elderly ladies. You were dreadfully sunburnt. I made their +acquaintance next day in Naples. You had gone, but they told me +your name. Let me see. I know everybody and never forget anything. +My mind is pigeon-holed like my office. Don't tell me."</p> +<p>He held up his forefinger and fixed her with his eye.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id= +"Page_44"></a>[44]</span>It's Middlemist," he cried triumphantly, +"and you've an Oriental kind of Christian name—Zora! Am I +right?"</p> +<p>"Perfectly," she laughed, the uncanniness of his memory +mitigating the unconventionality of his demeanor.</p> +<p>"Now we all know one another," he said, swinging a chair round +and sitting unasked at the table. "You're both very sunburnt and +the water here is hard and will make the skin peel. You had better +use some of the cure. I use it myself every day—see the +results."</p> +<p>He passed his hand over his smooth, clean-shaven face, which +indeed was as rosy as a baby's. His piercing eyes contrasted oddly +with his chubby, full lips and rounded chin.</p> +<p>"What cure?" asked Zora, politely.</p> +<p>"What cure?" he echoed, taken aback, "why, my cure. What other +cure is there?"</p> +<p>He turned to Septimus, who stared at him vacantly. Then the +incredible truth began to dawn on him.</p> +<p>"I am Clem Sypher—Friend of Humanity—Sypher's Cure. +Now do you know?"</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I'm shockingly ignorant," said Zora.</p> +<p>"So am I," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" cried Sypher, bringing both hands down on the +table, tragically. "Don't you ever read your advertisements?"</p> +<p>"I'm afraid not," said Zora.</p> +<p>"No," said Septimus.</p> +<p>Before his look of mingled amazement and reproach they felt like +Sunday-school children taken to task for having skipped the Kings +of Israel.</p> +<p>"Well," said Sypher, "this is the reward we get for spending +millions of pounds and the shrewdest brains in the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span>country for +the benefit of the public! Have you ever considered what anxious +thought, what consummate knowledge of human nature, what dearly +bought experience go to the making of an advertisement? You'll go +miles out of your way to see a picture or a piece of sculpture that +hasn't cost a man half the trouble and money to produce, and you'll +not look at an advertisement of a thing vital to your life, though +it is put before your eyes a dozen times a day. Here's my card, and +here are some leaflets for you to read at your leisure. They will +repay perusal."</p> +<p>He drew an enormous pocketbook from his breast pocket and +selected two cards and two pamphlets, which he laid on the table. +Then he arose with an air of suave yet offended dignity. Zora, +seeing that the man, in some strange way, was deeply hurt, looked +up at him with a conciliatory smile.</p> +<p>"You mustn't bear me any malice, Mr. Sypher, because I'm so +grateful to you for saving us from these swindling people."</p> +<p>When Zora smiled into a man's eyes, she was irresistible. +Sypher's pink face relaxed.</p> +<p>"Never mind," he said. "I'll send you all the advertisements I +can lay my hands on in the morning. Au revoir."</p> +<p>He raised his hat and went away. Zora laughed across the +table.</p> +<p>"What an extraordinary person!"</p> +<p>"I feel as if I had been talking to a typhoon," said +Septimus.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They went to the theater that evening, and during the first +entr'acte strolled into the rooms. Except the theater the Casino +administration provides nothing that can allure <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span>the visitor +from the only purpose of the establishment. Even the bar at the end +of the atrium could tempt nobody not seriously parched with thirst. +It is the most comfortless pleasure-house in Europe. You are +driven, deliberately, in desperation into the rooms.</p> +<p>Zora and Septimus were standing by the decorous hush of a +<i>trente et quarante</i> table, when they were joined by Mr. Clem +Sypher. He greeted them like old acquaintances.</p> +<p>"I reckoned I should meet you sometime to-night. Winning?"</p> +<p>"We never play," said Zora.</p> +<p>Which was true. A woman either plunges feverishly into the vice +of gambling or she is kept away from it by her inborn economic +sense of the uses of money. She cannot regard it like a man, as a +mere amusement. Light loves are somewhat in the same category. +Hence many misunderstandings between the sexes. Zora found the +amusement profitless, the vice degraded. So, after her first +evening, she played no more. Septimus did not count.</p> +<p>"We never play," said Zora.</p> +<p>"Neither do I," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"The real way to enjoy Monte Carlo is to regard these rooms as +non-existent. I wish they were."</p> +<p>"Oh, don't say that," Sypher exclaimed quickly. "They are most +useful. They have a wisely ordained purpose. They are the +meeting-place of the world. I come here every year and make more +acquaintances in a day than I do elsewhere in a month. Soon I shall +know everybody and everybody will know me, and they'll take away +with them to Edinburgh and Stockholm and Uruguay and Tunbridge +Wells—to all corners of the earth—a personal knowledge +of the cure."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id= +"Page_47"></a>[47]</span>Oh—I see. From that point of +view—" said Zora.</p> +<p>"Of course. What other could there be? You see the advantage? It +makes the thing human. It surrounds it with personality. It shows +that 'Friend of Humanity' isn't a cant phrase. They recommend the +cure to their friends. 'Are you sure it's all right?' they are +asked. 'Of course it is,' they can reply. <i>'I know the man, Clem +Sypher himself.'</i> And the friends are convinced and go about +saying they know a man who knows Clem Sypher, and so the thing +spreads like a snowball. Have you read the pamphlet?"</p> +<p>"It was most interesting," said Zora mendaciously.</p> +<p>"I thought you'd find it so. I've brought something in my pocket +for you."</p> +<p>He searched and brought out a couple of little red celluloid +boxes, which he handed to Septimus.</p> +<p>"There are two sample boxes of the cure—one for Mrs. +Middlemist and one for yourself, Mr. Dix. You both have a touch of +the sun. Put it on to-night. Let it stay there for five minutes; +then rub off with a smooth, dry towel. In the morning you'll see +the miracle." He looked at Septimus earnestly. "Quite sure you +haven't anything in the nature of an eruption on you?"</p> +<p>"Good Lord, no. Of course not," said Septimus, startled out of a +dreamy contemplation of the two little red boxes.</p> +<p>"That's a pity. It would have been so nice to cure you. Ah!" +said he, with a keen glance up the room. "There's Lord Rebenham. I +must enquire after his eczema. You won't forget me now. Clem +Sypher. Friend of Humanity."</p> +<p>He bowed and withdrew, walking kindly and broad-shouldered +trough the crowd, like a benevolent deity, the latest thing in +Æsculapiuses, among his devotees.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id= +"Page_48"></a>[48]</span>What am I to do with these?" asked +Septimus, holding out the boxes.</p> +<p>"You had better give me mine, or heaven knows what will become +of it," said Zora, and she put it in her little chain bag, with her +handkerchief, purse, and powder-puff.</p> +<p>The next morning she received an enormous basket of roses and a +bundle of newspapers; also a card, bearing the inscription "Mr. +Clem Sypher. The Kurhaus. Kilburn Priory, N.W." She frowned ever so +little at the flowers. To accept them would be to accept Mr. +Sypher's acquaintance in his private and Kilburn Priory capacity. +To send them back would be ungracious, seeing that he had saved her +a hundred francs and had cured her imaginary sunburn. She took up +the card and laughed. It was like him to name his residence "The +Kurhaus." She would never know him in his private capacity, for the +simple reason that he hadn't one. The roses were an advertisement. +So Turner unpacked the basket, and while Zora was putting the roses +into water she wondered whether Mr. Sypher's house was decorated +with pictorial advertisements of the cure instead of pictures. Her +woman's instinct, however, caused the reflection that the roses +must have cost more than all the boxes of the cure she could buy in +a lifetime.</p> +<p>Septimus was dutifully waiting for her in the hall. She noted +that he was more spruce than usual, in a new gray cashmere suit, +and that his brown boots shone dazzlingly, like agates. They went +out together, and the first person who met their eyes was the +Friend of Humanity sunning himself in the square and feeding the +pigeons with bread crumbs from a paper bag. As soon as he saw Zora +he emptied his bag and crossed over.</p> +<p>"Good morning, Mrs. Middlemist. Good morning, Mr.<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span> Dix. Used +the cure? I see you have, Mrs. Middlemist. Isn't it wonderful? If +you'd only go about Monte Carlo with an inscription 'Try Sypher's +Cure!' What an advertisement! I'd have you one done in diamonds! +And how did you find it, Mr. Dix?"</p> +<p>"I—oh!" murmured Septimus. "I forgot about it last +night—and this morning I found I hadn't any brown boot +polish—I—"</p> +<p>"Used the cure?" cried Zora, aghast.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Septimus, timidly. "It's rather good," and he +regarded his dazzling boots.</p> +<p>Clem Sypher burst into a roar of laughter and clapped Septimus +on the shoulder.</p> +<p>"Didn't I tell you?" he cried delightedly. "Didn't I tell you +it's good for everything? What cream could give you such a polish? +By Jove! You deserve to be on the free list for life. You've given +me a line for an ad. 'If your skin is all right, try it on your +boots.' By George! I'll use it. This is a man with ideas, Mrs. +Middlemist. We must encourage him."</p> +<p>"Mr. Dix is an inventor," said Zora. She liked Sypher for +laughing. It made him human. It was therefore with a touch of +kindly feeling that she thanked him for the roses.</p> +<p>"I wanted to make them blush at the sight of your complexion +after the cure," said he.</p> +<p>It was a compliment, and Zora frowned; but it was a professional +compliment—so she smiled. Besides, the day was perfect, and +Zora not only had not a care in the wide world, but was conscious +of a becoming hat. She could not help smiling pleasantly on the +world.</p> +<p>An empty motor car entered the square, and drew up near by. The +chauffeur touched his cap.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id= +"Page_50"></a>[50]</span>I'll run you both over to Nice," said Clem +Sypher. "I have to meet my agent there and put the fear of God into +him. I shan't be long. My methods are quick. And I'll run you back +again. Don't say no."</p> +<p>There was the car—a luxurious 40 h.p. machine, upholstered +in green; there was Clem Sypher, pink and strong, appealing to her +with his quick eyes; there was the sunshine and the breathless blue +of the sky; and there was Septimus Dix, a faithful bodyguard. She +wavered and turned to Septimus.</p> +<p>"What do you say?"</p> +<p>She was lost. Septimus murmured something inconclusive. Sypher +triumphed. She went indoors to get her coat and veil. Sypher +admiringly watched her retreating figure—a poem of subtle +curves—and shrugging himself into his motor coat, which the +chauffeur brought him from the car, he turned to Septimus.</p> +<p>"Look here, Mr. Dix, I'm a straight man, and go straight to a +point. Don't be offended. Am I in the way?"</p> +<p>"Not in the least," said Septimus, reddening.</p> +<p>"As for me, I don't care a hang for anything in the universe +save Sypher's Cure. That's enough for one man to deal with. But I +like having such a glorious creature as Mrs. Middlemist in my car. +She attracts attention; and I can't say but what I'm not proud at +being seen with her, both as a man and a manufacturer. But that's +all. Now, tell me, what's in your mind?"</p> +<p>"I don't think I quite like you—er—to look on Mrs. +Middlemist as an advertisement," said Septimus. To speak so +directly cost him considerable effort.</p> +<p>"Don't you? Then I won't. I love a man to speak straight to me. +I respect him. Here's my hand." He <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span>wrung Septimus's hand warmly. +"I feel that we are going to be friends. I'm never wrong. I hope +Mrs. Middlemist will allow me to be a friend. Tell me about +her."</p> +<p>Septimus again reddened uncomfortably. He belonged to a class +which does not discuss its women with a stranger even though he be +a newly sworn brother.</p> +<p>"She mightn't care for it," he said.</p> +<p>Sypher once more clapped him on the shoulder. "Good again!" he +cried, admiringly. "I shouldn't like you half so much if you had +told me. I've got to know, for I know everything, so I'll ask her +myself."</p> +<p>Zora came down coated and veiled, her face radiant as a Romney +in its frame of gauze. She looked so big and beautiful, and Sypher +looked so big and strong, and both seemed so full of vitality, that +Septimus felt criminally insignificant. His voice was of too low a +pitch to make itself carry when these two spoke in their full +tones. He shrank into his shell. Had he not realized, in his +sensitive way, that without him as a watchdog—ineffectual +spaniel that he was—Zora would not accept Clem Sypher's +invitation, he would have excused himself from the drive. He +differentiated, not conceitedly, between Clem Sypher and himself. +She had driven alone with him on her first night at Monte Carlo. +But then she had carried him off between her finger and thumb, so +to speak, as the Brobdingnagian ladies carried off Gulliver. He +knew that he did not count as a danger in the eyes of high-spirited +young women. A man like Sypher did. He knew that Zora would not +have driven alone with Sypher any more than with the wretch of the +evil eyes. He did not analyze this out himself, as his habit of +mind was too vague and dreamy. But he knew it instinctively, as a +dog knows whom he can trust with his <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span>mistress and whom he cannot. +So when Sypher and Zora, with a great bustle of life, were +discussing seating arrangements in the car, he climbed modestly +into the front seat next to the chauffeur, and would not be +dislodged by Sypher's entreaties. He was just there, on guard, +having no place in the vigorous atmosphere of their personalities. +He sat aloof, smoking his pipe, and wondering whether he could +invent a motor perambulator which could run on rails round a small +garden, fill the baby's lungs with air, and save the British Army +from the temptation of nursery-maids. His sporadic discourse on the +subject perplexed the chauffeur.</p> +<p>It was a day of vivid glory. Rain had fallen heavily during the +night, laying the dust on the road and washing to gay freshness the +leaves of palms and gold-spotted orange trees and the purple +bourgainvillea and other flowers that rioted on wayside walls. All +the deep, strong color of the South was there, making things +unreal: the gray mountains, fragile masses against the solid cobalt +of the sky. The Mediterranean met the horizon in a blue so intense +that the soul ached to see it. The heart of spring throbbed in the +deep bosom of summer. The air as they sped through it was like cool +spiced wine.</p> +<p>Zora listened to Clem Sypher's dithyrambics. The wine of the air +had got into his head. He spoke as she had heard no man speak +before. The turns of the road brought into sight view after magic +view, causing her to catch her breath: purple rock laughing in the +sea, far-off townlets flashing white against the mountain flank, +gardens of paradise. Yet Clem Sypher sang of his cure.</p> +<p>First it was a salve for all external ills that flesh is heir +to. It spared humanity its heritage of epidermatous +suffer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id= +"Page_53"></a>[53]</span>ing. It could not fail. He reeled off the +string of hideous diseases with a lyrical lilt. It was his own +discovery. An obscure chemist's assistant in Bury St. Edmunds, he +had, by dint of experiments, hit on this world-upheaving +remedy.</p> +<p>"When I found what it was that I had done, Mrs. Middlemist," +said he solemnly, "I passed my vigil, like a knight of old, in my +dispensary, with a pot of the cure in front of me, and I took a +great oath to devote my life to spread it far and wide among the +nations of the earth. It should bring comfort, I swore, to the king +in his palace and the peasant in his hut. It should be a household +word in the London slum and on the Tartar steppe. Sypher's Cure +could go with the Red Cross into battle, and should be in the +clerk's wife's cupboard in Peckham Rye. The human chamois that +climbs the Alps, the gentle lunatic that plays golf, the idiot that +goes and gets scalped by Red Indians, the missionary that gets half +roasted by cannibals—if he gets quite roasted the cure's no +good; it can't do impossibilities—all should carry Sypher's +Cure in their waistcoat pockets. All mankind should know it, from +China to Peru, from Cape Horn to Nova Zembla. It would free the +tortured world from plague. I would be the Friend of Humanity. I +took that for my device. It was something to live for. I was twenty +then. I am forty now. I have had twenty years of the fiercest +battle that ever man fought."</p> +<p>"And surely you've come off victorious, Mr. Sypher," said +Zora.</p> +<p>"I shall never be victorious until it has overspread the earth!" +he declared. And he passed one hand over the other in a gesture +which symbolized the terrestrial globe with a coating of Sypher's +Cure.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id= +"Page_54"></a>[54]</span>Why shouldn't it?"</p> +<p>"It shall. Somehow, I believe that with you on my side it +will."</p> +<p>"I?" Zora started away to the corner of the car, and gazed on +him in blank amazement. "I? What in the world have I to do with +it?"</p> +<p>"I don't know yet," said Sypher. "I have an intuition. I'm a +believer in intuitions. I've followed them all my life, and they've +never played me false. The moment I learned that you had never +heard of me, I felt it."</p> +<p>Zora breathed comfortably again. It was not an implied +declaration.</p> +<p>"I'm fighting against the Powers of Darkness," he continued. "I +once read a bit of Spenser's 'Faërie Queene.' There was a Red +Cross Knight who slew a Dragon—but he had a fabulous kind of +woman behind him. When I saw you, you seemed that fabulous kind of +woman."</p> +<p>At a sharp wall corner a clump of tall poinsettias flamed +against the sky. Zora laughed full-heartedly.</p> +<p>"Here we are in the middle of a Fairy Tale. What are the Powers +of Darkness in your case, Sir Red Cross Knight?"</p> +<p>"Jebusa Jones's Cuticle Remedy," said Sypher savagely.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span>CHAPTER +V</h2> +<p>That was Clem Sypher's Dragon—Jebusa Jones's Cuticle +Remedy. He drew so vivid a picture of its foul iniquity that Zora +was convinced that the earth had never harbored so scaly a horror. +Of all Powers of Evil in the universe it was the most +devastating.</p> +<p>She was swept up by his eloquence to his point of view, and saw +things with his eyes. When she came to examine the poor dragon in +the cool light of her own reason it appeared at the worst to be but +a pushful patent medicine of an inferior order which, on account of +its cheapness and the superior American skill in distributing it, +was threatening to drive Sypher's Cure off the market.</p> +<p>"I'll strangle it as Hercules strangled the dog-headed thing," +cried Sypher.</p> +<p>He meant the Hydra, which wasn't dog-headed and which Hercules +didn't strangle. But a man can be at once unmythological and +sincere. Clem Sypher was in earnest.</p> +<p>"You talk as if your cure had something of a divine sanction," +said Zora. This was before her conversion.</p> +<p>"Mrs. Middlemist, if I didn't believe that," said Sypher +solemnly, "do you think I would have devoted my life to it?"</p> +<p>"I thought people ran these things to make money," said +Zora.</p> +<p>It was then that Sypher entered on the exordium of the speech +which convinced her of the diabolical noisomeness of the Jebusa +Jones unguent. His peroration summed up the contest as that between +Mithra and Ahriman.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id= +"Page_56"></a>[56]</span>Yet Zora, though she took a woman's +personal interest in the battle between Sypher's Cure and Jebusa +Jones's Cuticle Remedy, siding loyally and whole-heartedly with her +astonishing host, failed to pierce to the spirituality of the +man—to divine him as a Poet with an Ideal.</p> +<p>"After all," said Sypher on the way back—Septimus, with +his coat-collar turned up over his ears, still sat on guard by the +chauffeur, consoled by a happy hour he had spent alone with his +mistress after lunch, while Sypher was away putting the fear of God +into his agent, during which hour he had unfolded to her his +scientific philosophy of perambulators—"after all," said +Sypher, "the great thing is to have a Purpose in Life. Everyone +can't have my Purpose "—he apologized for humanity—"but +they can have some guiding principle. What's yours?"</p> +<p>Zora was startled by the unexpected question. What was her +Purpose in Life? To get to the heart of the color of the world? +That was rather vague. Also nonsensical when so formulated. She +took refuge in jest.</p> +<p>"I thought you had decided that my mission was to help you slay +the dragon?"</p> +<p>"We have to decide on our missions for ourselves," said he.</p> +<p>"Don't you think it sufficient Purpose for a woman who has been +in a gray prison all her life—when she finds herself +free—to go out and see all that is wonderful in scenery like +this, in paintings, architecture, manners, and customs of other +nations, in people who have other ideas and feelings from those she +knew in prison? You speak as if you're finding fault with me for +not doing anything useful. Isn't what I do enough? What else can I +do?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said Sypher, looking at the back of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id= +"Page_57"></a>[57]</span>gloves; then he turned his head and met +her eyes in one of his quick glances. "But you, with your color and +your build and your voice, seem somehow to me to stand for +Force—there's something big about you—just as there's +something big about me—Napoleonic—and I can't +understand why it doesn't act in some particular direction."</p> +<p>"Oh, you must give me time," cried Zora. "Time to expand, to +find out what kind of creature I really am. I tell you I've been in +prison. Then I thought I was free and found a purpose, as you call +it. Then I had a knock-down blow. I am a widow—I supposed +you've guessed. Oh, now, don't speak. It wasn't grief. My married +life was a six-weeks' misery. I forget it. I went away from home +free five months ago—to see all this"—she waved her +hand—"for the first time. Whatever force I have has been +devoted to seeing it all, to taking it all in."</p> +<p>She spoke earnestly, just a bit passionately. In the silence +that followed she realized with sudden amazement that she had +opened her heart to this prime apostle of quackery. As he made no +immediate reply, the silence grew tense and she clasped her hands +tight, and wondered, as her sex has done from time immemorial, why +on earth she had spoken. When he answered it was kindly.</p> +<p>"You've done me a great honor in telling me this. I understand. +You want the earth, or as much of it as you can get, and when +you've got it and found out what it means, you'll make a great use +of it. Have you many friends?"</p> +<p>"No," said Zora. He had an uncanny way of throwing her back on +to essentials. "None stronger than myself."</p> +<p>"Will you take me as a friend? I'm strong enough," said +Sypher.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id= +"Page_58"></a>[58]</span>Willingly," she said, dominated by his +earnestness.</p> +<p>"That's good. I may be able to help you when you've found your +vocation. I can tell you, at any rate, how to get to what you want. +You've just got to keep a thing in view and go for it and never let +your eyes wander to right or left or up or down. And looking back +is fatal—the truest thing in Scripture is about Lot's wife. +She looked back and was turned into a pillar of salt."</p> +<p>He paused, his face assumed an air of profound reflection, and +he added with gravity:</p> +<p>"And the Clem Sypher of the period when he came by, made use of +her, and plastered her over with posters of his cure."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The day she had appointed as the end of her Monte Carlo visit +arrived. She would first go to Paris, where some Americans whom she +had met in Florence and with whom she had exchanged occasional +postcards pressed her to join them. Then London; and then a spell +of rest in the lavender of Nunsmere. That was her programme. +Septimus Dix was to escort her as far as Paris, in defiance of the +proprieties as interpreted by Turner. What was to become of him +afterwards neither conjectured; least of all Septimus himself. He +said nothing about getting back to Shepherd's Bush. Many brilliant +ideas had occurred to him during his absence which needed careful +working out. Wherefore Zora concluded that he proposed to accompany +her to London.</p> +<p>A couple of hours before the train started she dispatched Turner +to Septimus's hotel to remind him of the journey. Turner, a +strong-minded woman of forty—like the oyster she had been +crossed in love and like her mistress she held <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span>men in high +contempt—returned with an indignant tale. After a series of +parleyings with Mr. Dix through the medium of the hotel +<i>chasseur</i>, who had a confused comprehension of voluble +English, she had mounted at Mr. Dix's entreaty to his room. There +she found him, half clad and in his dressing-gown, staring +helplessly at a wilderness of clothing and toilet articles for +which there was no space in his suit cases and bag, already piled +mountain high.</p> +<p>"I can never do it, Turner," he said as she entered. "What's to +be done?"</p> +<p>Turner replied that she did not know; her mistress's +instructions were that he should catch the train.</p> +<p>"I'll have to leave behind what I can't get in," he said +despondently. "I generally have to do so. I tell the hotel people +to give it to widows and orphans. But that's one of the things that +make traveling so expensive."</p> +<p>"But you brought everything, sir, in this luggage?"</p> +<p>"I suppose so. Wiggleswick packed. It's his professional +training, Turner. I think they call it 'stowing the swag.'"</p> +<p>As Turner had not heard of Wiggleswick's profession, she did not +catch the allusion. Nor did Zora enlighten her when she reported +the conversation.</p> +<p>"If they went in once they'll go in again," said Turner.</p> +<p>"They won't. They never do," said Septimus.</p> +<p>His plight was so hopeless, he seemed so immeasurably her sex's +inferior, that he awoke her contemptuous pity. Besides, her trained +woman's hands itched to restore order out of masculine chaos.</p> +<p>"Turn everything out and I'll pack for you," she said +resolutely, regardless of the proprieties. On further investigation +she held out horrified hands.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id= +"Page_60"></a>[60]</span>He had mixed up shirts with shoes. His +clothes were rolled in bundles, his collars embraced his sponge, +his trees, divorced from boots, lay on the top of an unprotected +bottle of hair-wash; he had tried to fit his brushes against a box +of tooth-powder and the top had already come off. Turner shook out +his dress suit and discovered a couple of hotel towels which had +got mysteriously hidden in the folds. She held them up +severely.</p> +<p>"No wonder you can't get your things in if you take away half +the hotel linen," and she threw them to the other side of the +room.</p> +<p>In twenty minutes she had worked the magic of Wiggleswick. +Septimus was humbly grateful.</p> +<p>"If I were you, sir," she said, "I'd go to the station at once +and sit on my boxes till my mistress arrives."</p> +<p>"I think I'll do it, Turner," said Septimus.</p> +<p>Turner went back to Zora flushed, triumphant, and indignant.</p> +<p>"If you think, ma'am," said she, "that Mr. Dix is going to help +us on our journey, you're very much mistaken. He'll lose his ticket +and he'll lose his luggage and he'll lose himself, and we'll have +to go and find them."</p> +<p>"You must take Mr. Dix humorously," said Zora.</p> +<p>"I've no desire to take him at all, ma'am." And Turner snorted +virtuously, as became her station.</p> +<p>Zora found him humbly awaiting her on the platform in company +with Clem Sypher, who presented her with a great bunch of roses and +a bundle of illustrated papers. Septimus had received as a parting +guerdon an enormous package of the cure, which he embraced somewhat +dejectedly. It was Sypher who looked after the luggage of the +party. His terrific accent filled the station. Septimus regarded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id= +"Page_61"></a>[61]</span>him with envy. He wondered how a man dared +order foreign railway officials about like that.</p> +<p>"If I tried to do it they would lock me up. I once interfered in +a street row."</p> +<p>Zora did not hear the dire results of the interference. Sypher +claimed her attention until the train was on the point of +starting.</p> +<p>"Your address in England? You haven't given it."</p> +<p>"The Nook, Nunsmere, Surrey, will always find me."</p> +<p>"Nunsmere?" He paused, pencil in hand, and looked up at her as +she stood framed in the railway carriage window. "I nearly bought a +house there last year. I was looking out for one with a lawn +reaching down to a main railway track. This one had it."</p> +<p>"Penton Court?"</p> +<p>"Yes. That was the name."</p> +<p>"It's still unsold," laughed Zora idly.</p> +<p>"I'll buy it at once," said he.</p> +<p><i>"En voiture</i>," cried the guard.</p> +<p>Sypher put out his masterful hand.</p> +<p>"Au revoir. Remember. We are friends. I never say what I don't +mean."</p> +<p>The train moved out of the station. Zora took her seat opposite +Septimus.</p> +<p>"I really believe he'll do it," she said.</p> +<p>"What?"</p> +<p>"Oh, something crazy," said Zora. "Tell me about the street +row."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In Paris Zora was caught in the arms of the normal and the +uneventful. An American family consisting of a father, mother, son +and two daughters touring the continent do not <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span>generate an +atmosphere of adventure. Their name was Callender, they were +wealthy, and the track beaten by the golden feet of their +predecessors was good enough for them. They were generous and +kindly. There was no subtle complexity in their tastes. They liked +the best, they paid for it, and they got it. The women were +charming, cultivated and eager for new sensations. They found Zora +a new sensation, because she had that range of half tones which is +the heritage of a child of an older, grayer civilization. Father +and son delighted in her. Most men did. Besides, she relieved the +family tedium. The family knew the Paris of the rich Anglo-Saxon +and other rich Anglo-Saxons in Paris. Zora accompanied them on +their rounds. They lunched and dined in the latest expensive +restaurants in the Champs Elysées and the Bois; they went to +races; they walked up and down the Rue de la Paix and the Avenue de +l'Opéra and visited many establishments where the female +person is adorned. After the theater they drove to the Cabarets of +Montmartre, where they met other Americans and English, and felt +comfortably certain that they were seeing the naughty, shocking +underside of Paris. They also went to the Louvre and to the Tomb of +Napoleon. They stayed at the Grand Hotel.</p> +<p>Zora saw little of Septimus. He knew Paris in a queer, dim way +of his own, and lived in an obscure hotel, whose name Zora could +not remember, on the other side of the river. She introduced him to +the Callenders, and they were quite prepared to receive him into +their corporation. But he shrank from so vast a concourse as six +human beings; he seemed to be overawed by the multitude of voices, +unnerved by the multiplicity of personalities. The unfeathered owl +blinked dazedly in general society as the feathered <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span>one does in +daylight. At first he tried to stand the glare for Zora's sake.</p> +<p>"Come out and mix with people and enjoy yourself," cried Zora, +when he was arguing against a proposal to join the party on a +Versailles excursion. "I want you to enjoy yourself for once in +your life. Besides—you're always so anxious to be human. This +will make you human."</p> +<p>"Do you think it will?" he asked seriously. "If you do, I'll +come."</p> +<p>But at Versailles they lost him, and the party, as a party, knew +him no more. What he did with himself in Paris Zora could not +imagine. A Cambridge acquaintance—one of the men on his +staircase who had not yet terminated his disastrous +career—ran across him in the Boulevard Sévastopol.</p> +<p>"Why—if it isn't the Owl! What are you doing?"</p> +<p>"Oh—hooting," said Septimus.</p> +<p>Which was more information as to his activities than he +vouchsafed to give Zora. Once he murmured something about a friend +whom he saw occasionally. When she asked him where his friend lived +he waved an indeterminate hand eastwards and said, "There!" It was +a friend, thought Zora, of whom he had no reason to be proud, for +he prevented further questioning by adroitly changing the +conversation to the price of hams.</p> +<p>"But what are you going to do with hams?"</p> +<p>"Nothing," said Septimus, "but when I see hams hanging up in a +shop I always want to buy them. They look so shiny."</p> +<p>Zora's delicate nostrils sniffed the faintest perfume of a +mystery; but a moment afterwards the Callenders carried her off to +Ledoyen's and Longchamps and other in<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span>dubitable actualities in +which she forgot things less tangible. Long afterwards she +discovered that the friend was an old woman, a <i>marchande des +quatre saisons</i> who sold vegetables in the Place de la +République. He had known her many years, and as she was at +the point of death he comforted her with blood-puddings and flowers +and hams and the ministrations of an indignant physician. But at +the time Septimus hid his Good Samaritanism under a cloud of +vagueness.</p> +<p>Then came a period during which Zora lost him altogether. Days +passed. She missed him. Life with the Callenders was a continuous +shooting of rapids. A quiet talk with Septimus was an hour in a +backwater, curiously restful. She began to worry. Had he been run +over by an omnibus? Only an ever-recurring miracle could bring him +safely across the streets of a great city. When the Callenders took +her to the Morgue she dreaded to look at the corpses.</p> +<p>"I do wish I knew what has become of him," she said to +Turner.</p> +<p>"Why not write to him, ma'am?" Turner suggested.</p> +<p>"I've forgotten the name of his hotel," said Zora, wrinkling her +forehead.</p> +<p>The name of the Hôtel Quincamboeuf, where he lodged, +eluded her memory.</p> +<p>"I do wish I knew," she repeated.</p> +<p>Then she caught an involuntary but illuminating gleam in +Turner's eye, and she bade her look for hairpins. Inwardly she +gasped from the shock of revelation; then she laughed to herself, +half amused, half indignant. The preposterous absurdity of the +suggestion! But in her heart she realized that, in some undefined +human fashion, Septimus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id= +"Page_65"></a>[65]</span> Dix counted for something in her life. +What had become of him?</p> +<p>At last she found him one morning sitting by a table in the +courtyard of the Grand Hotel, patiently awaiting her descent. By +mere chance she was un-Callendered.</p> +<p>"Why, what—?"</p> +<p>The intended reproval died on her lips as she saw his face. His +cheeks were hollow and white, his eyes sunken The man was ill. His +hand burned through her glove. Feelings warm and new gushed +forth.</p> +<p>"Oh, my <i>dear</i> friend, what is the matter?"</p> +<p>"I must go back to England. I came to say good-bye. I've had +this from Wiggleswick."</p> +<p>He handed her an open letter. She waved it away.</p> +<p>"That's of no consequence. Sit down. You're ill. You have a high +temperature. You should be in bed."</p> +<p>"I've been," said Septimus. "Four days."</p> +<p>"And you've got up in this state? You must go back at once. Have +you seen a doctor? No, of course you haven't. Oh, dear!" She wrung +her hands. "You are not fit to be trusted alone. I'll drive you to +your hotel and see that you're comfortable and send for a +doctor."</p> +<p>"I've left the hotel," said Septimus. "I'm going to catch the +eleven train. My luggage is on that cab."</p> +<p>"But it's five minutes past eleven now. You have lost the +train—thank goodness."</p> +<p>"I'll be in good time for the four o'clock," said Septimus. +"This is the way I generally travel. I told you." He rose, swayed a +bit, and put his hand on the table to steady himself. "I'll go and +wait at the station. Then I'll be sure to catch it. You see I must +go."</p> +<p>"But why?" cried Zora.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id= +"Page_66"></a>[66]</span>Wiggleswick's letter. The house has been +burnt down and everything in it. The only thing he saved was a +large portrait of Queen Victoria."</p> +<p>Then he fainted.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Zora had him carried to a room in the hotel and sent for a +doctor, who kept him in bed for a fortnight. Zora and Turner nursed +him, much to his apologetic content. The Callenders in the +meanwhile went to Berlin.</p> +<p>When Septimus got up, gaunt and staring, he appealed to the +beholder as the most helpless thing which the Creator had clothed +in the semblance of a man.</p> +<p>"He must take very great care of himself for the next few +weeks," said the doctor. "If he gets a relapse I won't answer for +the consequences. Can't you take him somewhere?"</p> +<p>"Take him somewhere?" The idea had been worrying her for some +days past. If she left him to his own initiative he would probably +go and camp with Wiggleswick amid the ruins of his house in +Shepherd's Bush, where he would fall ill again and die. She would +be responsible.</p> +<p>"We can't leave him here, at any rate," she remarked to +Turner.</p> +<p>Turner agreed. As well abandon a month-old baby on a doorstep +and expect it to earn its livelihood. She also had come to take a +proprietary interest in Septimus.</p> +<p>"He might stay with us in Nunsmere. What do you think, +Turner?"</p> +<p>"I think, ma'am," said Turner, "that would be the least improper +arrangement."</p> +<p>"He can have Cousin Jane's room," mused Zora, knowing that +Cousin Jane would fly at her approach.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id= +"Page_67"></a>[67]</span>And I'll see, ma'am, that he comes down to +his meals regular," said Turner.</p> +<p>"Then it's settled," said Zora.</p> +<p>She went forthwith to the invalid and acquainted him with his +immediate destiny. At first he resisted. He would be a nuisance. +Since his boyhood he had never lived in a lady's house. Even +landladies in lodgings had found him impossible. He could not think +of accepting more favors from her all too gracious hands.</p> +<p>"You've got to do what you're told," said Zora, conclusively. +She noticed a shade of anxiety cross his face. "Is there anything +else?"</p> +<p>"Wiggleswick. I don't know what's to become of him."</p> +<p>"He can come to Nunsmere and lodge with the local policeman," +said Zora.</p> +<p>On the evening before they started from Paris she received a +letter addressed in a curiously feminine hand. It ran:</p> +<div class="blockquot">"DEAR MRS. MIDDLEMIST: +<p>"I don't let the grass grow under my feet. I have bought Penton +Court. I have also started a campaign which will wipe the Jebusa +Jones people off the face of the earth they blacken. I hope you are +finding a vocation. When I am settled at Nunsmere we must talk +further of this. I take a greater interest in you than in any other +woman I have ever known, and that I believe you take an interest in +me is the proud privilege of</p> +</div> +<p>"Yours very faithfully,<br /> +"CLEM SYPHER."</p> +<p>"Here are the three railway tickets, ma'am," said Turner, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id= +"Page_68"></a>[68]</span>who had brought up the letter. "I think we +had better take charge of them."</p> +<p>Zora laughed, and when Turner had left the room she laughed +again. Clem Sypher's letter and Septimus's ticket lay side by side +on her dressing-table, and they appealed to her sense of humor. +They represented the net result of her misanthropic travels.</p> +<p>What would her mother say? What would Emmy say? What would be +the superior remark of the Literary Man from London?</p> +<p>She, Zora Middlemist, who had announced in the market place, +with such a flourish of trumpets, that she was starting on her +glorious pilgrimage to the Heart of Life, abjuring all conversation +with the execrated male sex, to have this ironical adventure! It +was deliciously funny. Not only had she found two men in the Heart +of Life, but she was bringing them back with her to Nunsmere. She +could not hide them from the world in the secrecy of her own +memory: there they were in actual, bodily presence, the sole +trophies of her quest.</p> +<p>Yet she put a postscript to a letter to her mother.</p> +<p>"I know, in your dear romantic way, you will declare that these +two men have fallen in love with me. You'll be wrong. If they had, +<i>I shouldn't have anything to do with them. It would have made +them quite impossible</i>."</p> +<p>The energy with which she licked and closed the envelope was +remarkable but unnecessary.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span>CHAPTER +VI</h2> +<p>Things happen slowly at Nunsmere—from the grasping of an +idea to the pace of the church choir over the hymns. Life there is +no vulgar, tearing two-step, as it is in Godalming, London, and +other vortices of human passions, but the stately measure of a +minuet. Delights are deliberate and have lingering ends. A hen +would scorn to hatch a chicken with the indecent haste of her +sister in the next parish.</p> +<p>Six months passed, and Zora wondered what had become of them. +Only a few visits to London, where she had consorted somewhat gaily +with Emmy's acquaintances, had marked their flight, and the gentle +fingers of Nunsmere had graduated the reawakening of her nostalgia +for the great world. She spoke now and then of visiting Japan and +America and South Africa, somewhat to her mother's consternation; +but no irresistible force drove her thither. She found contentment +in procrastination.</p> +<p>It had also been a mild amusement to settle Septimus Dix, after +his recovery, in a little house facing the common. He had to +inhabit some portion of this planet, and as he had no choice of +spot save Hackney Downs, which Wiggleswick suggested, Zora waved +her hand to the tenantless house and told him to take it. As there +was an outhouse at the end of the garden which he could use as a +workshop, his principal desideratum in a residence, he obeyed her +readily. She then bought his furniture, plate, and linen, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id= +"Page_70"></a>[70]</span>and a complicated kitchen battery over +whose uses Wiggleswick scratched a bewildered head.</p> +<p>"A saucepan I know, and a frying-pan I know, but what you're to +put in those things with holes in them fairly licks me."</p> +<p>"Perhaps we might grow geraniums in them," said Septimus +brightly, alter a fit of musing.</p> +<p>"If you do," said Zora, "I'll put a female cook in charge of you +both, and wash my hands of you."</p> +<p>Whereupon she explained the uses of a cullender, and gave +Wiggleswick to understand that she was a woman of her word, and +that an undrained cabbage would be the signal for the execution of +her threat. From the first she had assumed despotic power over +Wiggleswick, of whose influence with his master she had been +absurdly jealous. But Wiggleswick, bent, hoary, deaf, crabbed, evil +old ruffian that he was, like most ex-prisoners instinctively +obeyed the word of command, and meekly accepted Zora as his +taskmistress.</p> +<p>For Septimus began happy days wherein the clock was disregarded. +The vague projects that had filled his head for the construction of +a new type of quick-firing gun took definite shape. Some queer +corner of his brain had assimilated a marvelous knowledge of field +artillery, and Zora was amazed at the extent of his technical +library, which Wiggleswick had overlooked in his statement of the +salvage from the burned-down house at Shepherd's Bush. Now and then +he would creep from the shyness which enveloped the inventive side +of his nature, and would talk with her with unintelligible +earnestness of these dreadful engines; of radial and initial hoop +pressures, of drift angles, of ballistics, of longitudinal +tensions, and would jot down trigo<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span>nometrical formulae +illustrated by diagrams until her brain reeled; or of his treatise +on guns of large caliber just written and now in the printers' +hands, and of the revolution in warfare these astounding machines +would effect. His eyes would lose their dreamy haze and would +become luminous, his nervous fingers would become effectual, the +man would become transfigured; but as soon as the fervid fit passed +off he would turn with amiable aimlessness to his usual +irrelevance. Sometimes he would work all night, either in his room +or his workshop, at his inventions. Sometimes he would dream for +days together. There was an old-fashioned pond in the middle of the +common, with rough benches placed here and there at the brink. +Septimus loved to sit on one of them and look at the ducks. He said +he was fascinated by the way they wagged their tails. It suggested +an invention: of what nature he could not yet determine. He also +formed a brotherly intimacy with a lame donkey belonging to the +sexton, and used to feed him with <i>pâté de foie +gras</i> sandwiches, specially prepared by Wiggleswick, until he +was authoritatively informed that raw carrots would be more +acceptable. To see the two of them side by side watching the ducks +in the pond wag their tails was a touching spectacle.</p> +<p>Another amenity in Septimus's peaceful existence was Emmy.</p> +<p>Being at this time out of an engagement, she paid various flying +visits to Nunsmere, bringing with her an echo of comic opera and an +odor of <i>Peau d'Espagne</i>. She dawned on Septimus's horizon +like a mischievous and impertinent planet, so different from Zora, +the great fixed star of his heaven, yet so pretty, so twinkling, so +artlessly and so obviously revolving round some twopenny-halfpenny +sun of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id= +"Page_72"></a>[72]</span>her own, that he took her, with +Wiggleswick, the ducks and the donkey, into his close comradeship. +It was she who had ordained the carrots. She had hair like golden +thistledown, and the dainty, blonde skin that betrays every motion +of the blood. She could blush like the pink tea-rose of an +old-fashioned English garden. She could blanch to the whiteness of +alabaster. Her eyes were forget-me-nots after rain. Her mouth was +made for pretty slang and kisses. Neither her features nor her most +often photographed expression showed the tiniest scrap of what the +austere of her sex used to call character. When the world smiled on +her she laughed: when it frowned, she cried. When she met Septimus +Dix, she flew to him as a child does to a new toy, and spent +gorgeous hours in pulling him to pieces to see how he worked.</p> +<p>"Why aren't you married?" she asked him one day.</p> +<p>He looked up at the sky—they were on the common—an +autumn stretch of pearls and purples, with here and there a streak +of wistful blue, as if seeking the inspiration of a reason.</p> +<p>"Because no one has married me," he replied.</p> +<p>Emmy laughed. "That's just like you. You expect a woman to drag +you out of your house by the scruff of your neck and haul you to +church without your so much as asking her."</p> +<p>"I've heard that lots of women do," said Septimus.</p> +<p>Emmy looked at him sharply. Every woman resents a universal +criticism of her sex, but cannot help feeling a twinge of respect +for the critic. She took refuge in scorn.</p> +<p>"A real man goes out and looks for a wife."</p> +<p>"But suppose he doesn't want one?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id= +"Page_73"></a>[73]</span>He must want a woman to love. What can his +life be without a woman in it? What can anybody's life be without +some one to care for? I really believe you're made of sawdust. Why +don't you fall in love?"</p> +<p>Septimus took off his hat, ran his fingers through his +upstanding hair, re-covered his head, and looked at her +helplessly.</p> +<p>"Oh, no! I'm booked. It's no use your falling in love with +me."</p> +<p>"I wouldn't—presume to do such a thing," he stammered, +somewhat scared. "I think love is serious. It's like an invention: +sometimes it lies deep down inside you, great and quiet—and +at other times it racks you and keeps you from sleeping."</p> +<p>"Oho!" cried Emmy. "So you know all about it. You <i>are</i> in +love. Now, tell me, who is she?"</p> +<p>"It was many years ago," said Septimus. "She wore pigtails and I +burned a hole in her pinafore with a toy cannon and she slapped my +face. Afterwards she married a butcher."</p> +<p>He looked at her with his wan smile, and again raised his hat +and ran his hand through his hair. Emmy was not convinced.</p> +<p>"I believe," she said, "you have fallen in love with Zora."</p> +<p>He did not reply for a moment or two; then he touched her +arm.</p> +<p>"Please don't say that," he said, in an altered tone.</p> +<p>Emmy edged up close to him, as they walked. It was her nature, +even while she teased, to be kind and caressing.</p> +<p>"Not even if it's true? Why not?"</p> +<p>"Things like that are not spoken of," he said soberly. "They're +only felt."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id= +"Page_74"></a>[74]</span>This time it was she who put a hand on his +arm, with a charming, sisterly air.</p> +<p>"I hope you won't make yourself miserable over it. You see, Zora +is impossible. She'll never marry again. I do hope it's not +serious. Is it?" As he did not answer, she continued: "It would be +such—such rot wasting your life over a thing you haven't a +chance of getting."</p> +<p>"Why?" said Septimus. "Isn't that the history of the best +lives?"</p> +<p>This philosophic plane was too high for Emmy, who had her +pleasant being in a less rarified atmosphere. "To want, to get, to +enjoy," was the guiding motto of her existence. What was the use of +wanting unless you got, and what was the use of getting unless you +enjoyed? She came to the conclusion that Septimus was only +sentimentally in love with Zora, and she regarded his tepid passion +as a matter of no importance. At the same time her easy discovery +delighted her. It invested Septimus with a fresh air of +comicality.</p> +<p>"You're just the sort of man to write poetry about her. Don't +you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, no!" said Septimus.</p> +<p>"Then what do you do?"</p> +<p>"I play the bassoon," said he.</p> +<p>Emmy clapped her hands with joy, thereby scaring a hen that was +straying on the common.</p> +<p>"Another accomplishment? Why didn't you tell us? I'm sure Zora +doesn't know of it. Where did you learn?"</p> +<p>"Wiggleswick taught me," said he. "He was once in a band."</p> +<p>"You must bring it round," cried Emmy.</p> +<p>But when Septimus, prevailed on by her entreaties, did +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id= +"Page_75"></a>[75]</span>appear with the instrument in Mrs. +Oldrieve's drawing-room, he made such unearthly and terrific noises +that Mrs. Oldrieve grew pale and Zora politely but firmly took it +from his hands and deposited it in the umbrella-stand in the +hall.</p> +<p>"I hope you don't mind," she said.</p> +<p>"Oh, dear, no," said Septimus mildly. "I could never make out +why anybody liked it."</p> +<p>Seeing that Septimus had a sentimental side to his character, +Emmy gradually took him into her confidence, until Septimus knew +things that Zora did not dream of. Zora, who had been married, and +had seen the world from Nunsmere Pond to the crater of Mount +Vesuvius, treated her sister with matronly indulgence, as a child +to whom Great Things were unrevealed. She did not reckon with the +rough-and-tumble experiences of life which a girl must gain from a +two years' battle on the stage. In fact, she did not reckon with +any of the circumstances of Emmy's position. She herself was too +ignorant, too much centered as yet in her own young impulses and +aspirations, and far too serene in her unquestioning faith in the +impeccability of the Oldrieve family. To her Emmy was still the +fluffy-haired little sister with caressing ways whom she could send +upstairs for her work-basket or could reprimand for a flirtation. +Emmy knew that Zora loved her dearly; but she was the least bit in +the world afraid of her, and felt that in affairs of the heart she +would be unsympathetic. So Emmy withheld her confidence from Zora, +and gave it to Septimus. Besides, it always pleases a woman more to +tell her secrets to a man than to another woman. There is more +excitement in it, even though the man be as unmoved as a +stock-fish.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id= +"Page_76"></a>[76]</span>Thus it fell out that Septimus heard of +Mordaunt Prince, whose constant appearance in Emmy's London circle +of friends Zora had viewed with plentiful lack of interest. He was +a paragon of men. He acted like a Salvini and sang like an angel. +He had been far too clever to take his degree at Oxford. He had +just bought a thousand-guinea motor car, and—Septimus was not +to whisper a word of it to Zora—she had recently been on a +three-days' excursion with him. Mordaunt Prince said this and +Mordaunt Prince said that. Mordaunt paid three guineas a pair for +his brown boots. He had lately divorced his wife, an unspeakable +creature only too anxious for freedom. Mordaunt came to see her +every day in London, and every day during their absence they +corresponded. Her existence was wrapped up in Mordaunt Prince. She +traveled about with a suit-case (or so it appeared to Septimus) +full of his photographs. He had been the leading man at the theater +where she had her last engagement, and had fallen madly, devotedly, +passionately in love with her. As soon as the divorce was made +absolute they would be married. She had quarreled with her best +friend, who had tried to make mischief between them with a view to +securing Mordaunt for herself. Had Septimus ever heard of such a +cat? Septimus hadn't.</p> +<p>He was greatly interested in as much of the story as he could +follow—Emmy was somewhat discursive—and as his +interjectory remarks were unprovocative of argument, he constituted +himself a good listener. Besides, romance had never come his way. +It was new to him, even Emmy's commonplace little romance, like a +field of roses to a town-bred child, and it seemed sweet and +gracious, a thing to dream about. His own distant worship of Zora +did not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id= +"Page_77"></a>[77]</span>strike him as romantic. It was a part of +himself, like the hallowed memory of his mother and the conception +of his devastating guns. Had he been more worldly-wise he would +have seen possible danger in Emmy's romance, and insisted on Zora +being taken into their confidence. But Septimus believed that the +radiant beings of the earth, such as Emmy and Mordaunt Prince, from +whom a quaint destiny kept him aloof, could only lead radiant +lives, and the thought of harm did not cross his candid mind. Even +while keeping Emmy's secret from Zora, he regarded it as a romantic +and even dainty deceit.</p> +<p>Zora, seeing him happy with his guns and Wiggleswick and Emmy, +applauded herself mightily as a contriver of good. Her mother also +put ideas into her head.</p> +<p>From the drawing-room window they once saw Emmy and Septimus +part at the little front gate. They had evidently returned from a +walk. She plucked a great white chrysanthemum bloom from a bunch +she was carrying, flicked it laughingly in his face, and stuck it +in his buttonhole.</p> +<p>"What a good thing it would be for Emmy," said Mrs. Oldrieve, +with a sigh.</p> +<p>"To marry Septimus? Oh, mother!"</p> +<p>She laughed merrily; then all at once she became serious.</p> +<p>"Why not?" she cried, and kissed her mother.</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldrieve settled her cap. She was small and Zora was large, +and Zora's embraces were often disarranging.</p> +<p>"He is a gentleman and can afford to keep a wife."</p> +<p>"And steady?" said Zora, with a smile.</p> +<p>"I should think quite steady," said Mrs. Oldrieve, without +one.</p> +<p>"And he would amuse Emmy all day long."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id= +"Page_78"></a>[78]</span>I don't think it is part of a husband's +duty, dear, to amuse his wife," said Mrs. Oldrieve.</p> +<p>The sudden entrance of Emmy, full of fresh air, laughter, and +chrysanthemums, put an end to the conversation; but thenceforward +Zora thought seriously of romantic possibilities. Like her mother, +she did not entirely approve of Emmy's London circle. It was +characterized by too much freedom, too great a lack of reticence. +People said whatever came into their minds, and did, apparently, +whatever occurred to their bodies. She could not quite escape from +her mother's Puritan strain. For herself she felt secure. She, +Zora, could wander unattended over Europe, mixing without spot or +stain with whatever company she listed; that was because she was +Zora Middlemist, a young woman of exceptional personality and +experience of life. Ordinary young persons, for their own safe +conduct, ought to obey the conventions which were made with that +end in view; and Emmy was an ordinary young person. She should +marry; it would conduce to her moral welfare, and it would be an +excellent thing for Septimus. The marriage was therefore made in +the unclouded heaven of Zora's mind. She shed all her graciousness +over the young couple. Never had Emmy felt herself enwrapped in +more sisterly affection. Never had Septimus dreamed of such tender +solicitude. Yet she sang Septimus's praises to Emmy and Emmy's +praises to Septimus in so natural a manner that neither of the two +was puzzled.</p> +<p>"It is the natural instinct that makes every woman a matchmaker. +She works blindly towards the baby. If she cannot have one +directly, she will have it vicariously. The sourest of old maids is +thus doomed to have a hand in the perpetuation of the race."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id= +"Page_79"></a>[79]</span>Thus spake the Literary Man from London, +discoursing generally—out of earshot of the Vicar and his +wife, to whom he was paying one of his periodical visits—in a +corner of their drawing-room. Zora, conscious of matchmaking, +declared him to be horrid and physiological.</p> +<p>"A woman is much more refined and delicate in her motives."</p> +<p>"The highly civilized woman," said Rattenden, "is delightfully +refined in her table manners, and eats cucumber sandwiches in the +most delicate way in the world; but she is obeying the same +instinct that makes your lady cannibal thrust raw gobbets of +missionary into her mouth with her fingers."</p> +<p>"Your conversation is revolting," said Zora.</p> +<p>"Because I speak the truth? Truth is a Mokanna."</p> +<p>"What on earth is that?" asked Zora.</p> +<p>The Literary man sighed. "The Veiled Prophet of Khorasan, Lalla +Rookh, Tom Moore. Ichabod."</p> +<p>"It sounds like a cypher cablegram," said Zora flippantly. "But +go on."</p> +<p>"I will. Truth, I say, is a Mokanna. So long as it's decently +covered with a silver veil, you all prostrate yourselves before it +and pretend to worship it. When anyone lifts the veil and reveals +the revolting horror of it, you run away screaming, with your hands +before your eyes. Why do you want truth to be pretty? Why can't you +look its ghastliness bravely in the face? How can you expect to +learn anything if you don't? How can you expect to form judgments +on men and things? How can you expect to get to the meaning of life +on which you were so keen a year ago?"</p> +<p>"I want beauty, and not disgustfulness," said Zora.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id= +"Page_80"></a>[80]</span>Should it happen, for the sake of +argument, that I wanted two dear friends to marry, it is only +because I know how happy they would be together. The ulterior +motive you suggest is repulsive."</p> +<p>"But it's true," said Rattenden. "I wish I could talk to you +more. I could teach you a great deal. At any rate I know that +you'll think about what I've said to-day."</p> +<p>"I won't," she declared.</p> +<p>"You will," said he. And then he dropped a very buttery piece of +buttered toast on the carpet and, picking it up, said "damn" under +his breath; and then they both laughed, and Zora found him +human.</p> +<p>"Why are you so bent on educating me?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Because," said he, "I am one of the few men of your +acquaintance who doesn't want to marry you."</p> +<p>"Indeed?" said Zora sarcastically, yet hating herself for +feeling a little pang of displeasure. "May I ask why?"</p> +<p>"Because," said he, "I've a wife and five children already."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>On the top of her matchmaking and her reflections on Truth in +the guise of the Veiled Prophet of Khorasan, came Clem Sypher to +take possession of his new house. Since Zora had seen him in Monte +Carlo he had been to New York, Chicago, and San Francisco, fighting +the Jebusa Jones dragon in its lair. He had written Zora stout +dispatches during the campaign. Here a victory. There a defeat. +Everywhere a Napoleonic will to conquer—but everywhere also +an implied admission of the almost invulnerable strength of his +enemy.</p> +<p>"I'm physically tired," said he, on the first day of his +arrival, spreading his large frame luxuriously among the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id= +"Page_81"></a>[81]</span>cushions of Mrs. Oldrieve's chintz-covered +Chesterfield. "I'm tired for the only time in my life. I wanted +you," he added, with one of his quick, piercing looks. "It's a +curious thing, but I've kept saying to myself for the last month, +'If I could only come into Zora Middlemist's presence and drink in +some of her vitality, I should be a new man.' I've never wanted a +human being before. It's strange, isn't it?"</p> +<p>Zora came up to him, tea in hand, a pleasant smile on her +face.</p> +<p>"The Nunsmere air will rest you," she said demurely.</p> +<p>"I don't think much of the air if you're not in it. It's like +whiskey-less soda water." He drew a long breath. "My God! It's good +to see you again. You're the one creature on this earth who +believes in the Cure as I do myself."</p> +<p>Zora glanced at him guiltily. Her enthusiasm for the Cure as a +religion was tepid. In her heart she did not believe in it. She had +tried it a few weeks before on the sore head of a village baby, +with disastrous results; then the mother had called in the doctor, +who wrote out a simple prescription which healed the child +immediately. The only real evidence of its powers she had seen was +on Septimus's brown boots. Humanity, however, forbade her to deny +the faith with which Clem Sypher credited her; also a genuine +feeling of admiration mingled with pity for the man.</p> +<p>"Do you find much scepticism about?" she asked.</p> +<p>"It's lack of enthusiasm I complain of," he replied. "Instead of +accepting it as the one heaven-sent remedy, people will use any +other puffed and advertised stuff. Chemists are even lukewarm. A +grain of mustard seed of faith among them would save me thousands +of pounds a year.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id= +"Page_82"></a>[82]</span> Not that I want to roll in money, Mrs. +Middlemist. I'm not an avaricious man. But a great business +requires capital—and to spend money merely in flogging the +invertebrate is waste—desperate waste."</p> +<p>It was the first time that Zora had heard the note of +depression.</p> +<p>"Now that you are here, you must stay for a breathing space," +she said kindly. "You must forget it, put it out of your mind, take +a holiday. Strong as you are, you are not cast iron, and if you +broke down, think what a disaster it would be for the Cure."</p> +<p>"Will you help me to have a holiday?"</p> +<p>She laughed. "To the best of my ability—and provided you +don't want to make me shock Nunsmere too much."</p> +<p>He waved his hand in the direction of the village and said, +Napoleonically:</p> +<p>"I'll look after Nunsmere. I have the motor here. We can go all +over the country. Will you come?"</p> +<p>"On one condition."</p> +<p>"And that?"</p> +<p>"That you won't spread the Cure among our Surrey villages, and +that you'll talk of something else all the time."</p> +<p>He rose and put out his hand. "I accept," he cried frankly. "I'm +not a fool. I know you're right. When are you coming to see Penton +Court? I will give a housewarming You say that Dix has settled down +here. I'll look him up. I'll be glad to see the muddle-headed +seraph again. I'll ask him to come, too, so there will be you and +he—and perhaps your sister will honor me, and your mother, +Mrs. Oldrieve?"</p> +<p>"Mother doesn't go out much nowadays," said Zora. "But Emmy will +no doubt be delighted to come."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id= +"Page_83"></a>[83]</span>I have a surprise for you," said Sypher. +"It's a brilliant idea—have had it in my head for +months—you must tell me what you think of it."</p> +<p>The entrance of Mrs. Oldrieve and Emmy put an end to further +talk of an intimate nature, and as Mrs. Oldrieve preferred the +simple graces of stereotyped conversation, the remainder of +Sypher's visit was uneventful. When he had taken his leave she +remarked that he seemed to be a most superior person.</p> +<p>"I'm so glad he has made a good impression on mother," said Zora +afterwards.</p> +<p>"Why?" asked Emmy.</p> +<p>"It's only natural that I should be glad."</p> +<p>"Oho!" said Emmy.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, dear."</p> +<p>"Look here, Emmy," said Zora, half laughing, half angry. "If you +say or think such a thing I'll—I'll slap you. Mr. Sypher and +I are friends. He hasn't the remotest idea of our being anything +else. If he had, I would never speak to him again as long as I +live."</p> +<p>Emmy whistled a comedy air, and drummed on the window-pane.</p> +<p>"He's a very remarkable man," said Zora.</p> +<p>"A most superior person," mimicked Emmy.</p> +<p>"And I don't think it's very good taste in us to discuss him in +this manner."</p> +<p>"But, my dear," said Emmy, "it's you that are discussing him. +I'm not. The only remark I made about him was a quotation from +mother."</p> +<p>"I'm going up to dress for dinner," said Zora.</p> +<p>She was just a little indignant. Only into Emmy's fluffy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id= +"Page_84"></a>[84]</span>head could so preposterous an idea have +entered. Clem Sypher in love with her? If so, why not Septimus Dix? +The thing thus reduced itself to an absurdity. She laughed to +herself, half ashamed of having allowed Emmy to see that she took +her child's foolishness seriously, and came down to dinner serene +and indulgent.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span>CHAPTER +VII</h2> +<p>"Are you going to have your bath first, or your breakfast?" +asked Wiggleswick, putting his untidy gray head inside the +sitting-room door.</p> +<p>Septimus ran his ivory rule nervously through his hair.</p> +<p>"I don't know. Which would you advise?"</p> +<p>"What?" bawled Wiggleswick.</p> +<p>Septimus repeated his remark in a louder voice.</p> +<p>"If I had to wash myself in cold water," said Wiggleswick +contemptuously, "I'd do it on an empty stomach."</p> +<p>"But if the water were warm?"</p> +<p>"Well, the water ain't warm, so it's no good speculating."</p> +<p>"Dear me," said Septimus. "Now that's just what I enjoy +doing."</p> +<p>Wiggleswick grunted. "I'll turn on the tap and leave it."</p> +<p>The door having closed behind his body servant, Septimus laid +his ivory rule on the portion of the complicated diagram of +machinery which he had been measuring off, and soon became absorbed +in his task. It was four o'clock in the afternoon. He had but +lately risen, and sat in pyjamas and dressing-gown over his +drawing. A bundle of proofs and a jam-pot containing a dissipated +looking rosebud lay on that space of the table not occupied by the +double-elephant sheet of paper. By his side was a manuscript +covered with calculations to which he referred or added from time +to time. A bleak November light came in through the window, and +Septimus's chair was on the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" +id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span>right-hand side of the table. It was +characteristic of him to sit unnecessarily in his own light.</p> +<p>Presently a more than normal darkening of the room caused him to +look at the window. Clem Sypher stood outside, gazing at him with +amused curiosity. Hospitably, Septimus rose and flung the casement +window open.</p> +<p>"Do come in."</p> +<p>As the aperture was two feet square, all of Clem Sypher that +could respond to the invitation was his head and shoulders.</p> +<p>"Is it good morning, good afternoon, or good night?" he asked, +surveying Septimus's attire.</p> +<p>"Morning," said Septimus. "I've just got up. Have some +breakfast."</p> +<p>He moved to a bell-pull by the fireplace, and the tug was +immediately followed by a loud report.</p> +<p>"What the devil's that?" asked Sypher, startled.</p> +<p>"That," said Septimus mildly, "is an invention. I pull the rope +and a pistol is fired off in the kitchen. Wiggleswick says he can't +hear bells. What's for breakfast?" he asked, as Wiggleswick +entered.</p> +<p>"Haddock. And the bath's running over."</p> +<p>Septimus waved him away. "Let it run." He turned to Sypher. +"Have a haddock?"</p> +<p>"At four o'clock in the afternoon? Do you want me to be +sick?"</p> +<p>"Good heavens, no!" cried Septimus. "Do come in and I'll give +you anything you like."</p> +<p>He put his hand again on the bell-pull. A hasty exclamation from +Sypher checked his impulse.</p> +<p>"I say, don't do that again. If you'll open the front door for +me," he added, "I may be able to get inside."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id= +"Page_87"></a>[87]</span>A moment or two later Sypher was admitted, +by the orthodox avenues, into the room. He looked around him, his +hands on his hips.</p> +<p>"I wonder what on earth this would have been like if our dear +lady hadn't had a hand in it."</p> +<p>As Septimus's imagination was entirely scientific he could +furnish no solution to the problem. He drew a chair to the fire and +bade his guest sit down, and handed him a box of cigars which also +housed a pair of compasses, some stamps, and a collar stud. Sypher +selected and lit a cigar, but declined the chair for the +moment.</p> +<p>"You don't mind my looking you up? I told you yesterday I would +do it, but you're such a curious creature there's no knowing at +what hour you can receive visitors. Mrs. Middlemist told me you +were generally in to lunch at half-past four in the morning. Hello, +an invention?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Septimus.</p> +<p>Sypher pored over the diagram. "What on earth is it all +about?"</p> +<p>"It's to prevent people getting killed in railway collisions," +replied Septimus. "You see, the idea is that every compartment +should consist of an outer shell and an inner case in which +passengers sit. The roof is like a lid. When there's a collision +this series of levers is set in motion, and at once the inner case +is lifted through the roof and the people are out of the direct +concussion. I haven't quite worked it out yet," he added, passing +his hand through his hair. "You see, the same thing might happen +when they're just coupling some more carriages on to a train at +rest, which would be irritating to the passengers."</p> +<p>"Very," said Sypher, drily. "It would also come rather +expensive, wouldn't it?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id= +"Page_88"></a>[88]</span>How could expense be an object when there +are human lives to be saved?"</p> +<p>"I think, my friend Dix," said Sypher, "you took the wrong +turning in the Milky Way before you were born. You were destined +for a more enlightened planet. If they won't pay thirteen pence +halfpenny for Sypher's Cure, how can you expect them to pay +millions for your inventions? That Cure—but I'm not going to +talk about it. Mrs. Middlemist's orders. I'm here for a rest. What +are these? Proofs? Writing a novel?"</p> +<p>He held up the bundle with one of his kindly smiles and one of +his swift glances at Septimus.</p> +<p>"It's my book on guns."</p> +<p>"Can I look?"</p> +<p>"Certainly."</p> +<p>Sypher straightened out the bundle—it was in +page-proof—and read the title:</p> +<p>"A Theoretical Treatise on the Construction of Guns of Large +Caliber. By Septimus Dix, M.A." He looked through the pages. "This +seems like sense, but there are text-books, aren't there, giving +all this information?"</p> +<p>"No," said Septimus modestly. "It begins where the text-books +leave off. The guns I describe have never been cast."</p> +<p>"Where on earth do you get your knowledge of artillery?"</p> +<p>Septimus dreamed through the mists of memory.</p> +<p>"A nurse I once had married a bombardier," said he.</p> +<p>Wiggleswick entered with the haddock and other breakfast +appurtenances, and while Septimus ate his morning meal Sypher +smoked and talked and looked through the pages of the Treatise. The +lamps lit and the curtains <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" +id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span>drawn, the room had a cosier appearance +than by day. Sypher stretched himself comfortably before the +fire.</p> +<p>"I'm not in the way, am I?"</p> +<p>"Good heavens, no!" said Septimus. "I was just thinking how +pleasant it was. I've not had a man inside my rooms since I was up +at Cambridge—and then they didn't come often, except to +rag."</p> +<p>"What did they do?"</p> +<p>Septimus narrated the burnt umbrella episode and other social +experiences.</p> +<p>"So that when a man comes to see me who does not throw my things +about, he is doubly welcome," he explained. "Besides," he added, +after a drink of coffee, "we said something in Monte Carlo about +being friends."</p> +<p>"We did," said Sypher, "and I'm glad you've not forgotten it. +I'm so much the Friend of Humanity in the bulk that I've somehow +been careless as to the individual."</p> +<p>"Have a drink," said Septimus, filling his after-breakfast +pipe.</p> +<p>The pistol shot brought Wiggleswick, who, in his turn, brought +whiskey and soda, and the two friends finished the afternoon in +great amity. Before taking his departure Sypher asked whether he +might read through the proofs of the gun book at home.</p> +<p>"I think I know enough of machinery and mathematics to +understand what you're driving at, and I should like to examine +these guns of yours. You think they are going to whip +creation?"</p> +<p>"They'll make warfare too dangerous to be carried on. At +present, however, I'm more interested in my railway carriages."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id= +"Page_90"></a>[90]</span>Which will make railway traveling too +dangerous to be carried on!" laughed Sypher, extending his hand. +"Good-by."</p> +<p>When he had gone, Septimus mused for some time in happy +contentment over his pipe. He asked very little of the world, and +oddly enough the world rewarded his modesty by giving him more than +he asked for. To-day he had seen Sypher in a new mood, sympathetic, +unegotistical, non-robustious, and he felt gratified at having won +a man's friendship. It was an addition to his few anchorages in +life. Then, in a couple of hours he would sun himself in the smiles +of his adored mistress, and listen to the prattle of his other +friend, Emmy. Mrs. Oldrieve would be knitting by the lamp, and +probably he would hold her wool, drop it, and be scolded as if he +were a member of the family; all of which was a very gracious thing +to the sensitive, lonely man, warming his heart and expanding his +nature. It filled his head with dreams: of a woman dwelling by +right in this house of his, and making the air fragrant by her +presence. But as the woman—although he tried his utmost to +prevent it and to conjure up the form of a totally different +type—took the shape of Zora Middlemist, he discouraged such +dreams as making more for mild unhappiness than for joy, and bent +his thoughts to his guns and railway carriages and other +world-upheaving inventions. The only thing that caused him any +uneasiness was an overdraft at his bank due to cover which he had +to pay on shares purchased for him by a circularizing bucket-shop +keeper. It had seemed so simple to write Messrs. Shark & Co., +or whatever alias the philanthropic financier assumed, a check for +a couple of hundred pounds, and receive Messrs. Shark's check for +two thousand in a fortnight, that he had won<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span>dered why +other people did not follow this easy road to fortune. Perhaps they +did, he reflected: that was how they managed to keep a large family +of daughters and a motor car. But when the shark conveyed to him in +unintelligible terms the fact that unless he wrote a check for two +or three hundred pounds more his original stake would be lost, and +when these also fell through the bottomless bucket of Messrs. Shark +& Co. and his bankers called his attention to an overdrawn +account, it began to dawn upon him that these were not the methods +whereby a large family of daughters and a motor car were +unprecariously maintained. The loss did not distress him to the +point of sleeplessness; his ideas as to the value of money were as +vague as his notions on the rearing of babies; but he was +publishing his book at his own expense, and was concerned at not +being in a position to pay the poor publisher immediately.</p> +<p>At Mrs. Oldrieve's he found his previsions nearly all fulfilled. +Zora, with a sofa-ful of railway time-tables and ocean-steamer +handbooks, sought his counsel as to a voyage round the world which +she had in contemplation; Mrs. Oldrieve impressed on his memory a +recipe for an omelette which he was to convey verbally to +Wiggleswick, although he confessed that the only omelette that +Wiggleswick had tried to make they had used for months afterwards +as a kettle-holder; but Emmy did not prattle. She sat in a corner, +listlessly turning over the leaves of a novel and taking an +extraordinary lack of interest in the general conversation. The +usual headache and neuralgia supplied her excuse. She looked pale, +ill, and worried; and worry on a baby face is a lugubrious and +pitiful spectacle.</p> +<p>After Mrs. Oldrieve had retired for the night, and +while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id= +"Page_92"></a>[92]</span> Zora happened to be absent from the room +in search of an atlas, Septimus and Emmy were left alone for a +moment.</p> +<p>"I'm so sorry you have a headache," said Septimus +sympathetically. "Why don't you go to bed?"</p> +<p>"I hate bed. I can't sleep," she replied, with an impatient +shake of the body. "You mustn't mind me. I'm sorry I'm so +rotten—ah! well then—such an uninspiring companion, if +you like," she added, seeing that the word had jarred on him. Then +she rose. "I suppose I bore you. I had better go, as you suggest, +and get out of the way."</p> +<p>He intercepted her petulant march to the door.</p> +<p>"I wish you'd tell me what's the matter. It isn't only a +headache."</p> +<p>"It's Hell and the Devil and all his angels," said Emmy, "and +I'd like to murder somebody."</p> +<p>"You can murder me, if it would do you any good," said +Septimus.</p> +<p>"I believe you'd let me," she said, yielding. "You're a good +sort." She turned, with a short laugh, her novel held in both hands +behind her back, one finger holding the place. A letter dropped +from it. Septimus picked it up and handed it to her. It bore an +Italian stamp and the Naples postmark.</p> +<p>"Yes. That's from him," she said resentfully. "I've not had a +letter for a week, and now he writes to say he has gone to Naples +on account of his health. You had better let me go, my good +Septimus; if I stay here much longer I'll be talking slush and +batter. I've got things on my nerves."</p> +<p>"Why don't you talk to Zora?" he suggested. "She is so +wonderful."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id= +"Page_93"></a>[93]</span>She's the last person in the world that +must know anything. Do you understand? The very last."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I don't understand," he replied ruefully.</p> +<p>"She doesn't know anything about Mordaunt Prince. She must never +know. Neither must mother. They don't often talk much about the +family; but they're awfully proud of it. Mother's people date from +before Noah, and they look down on the Oldrieves because they +sprang up like mushrooms just after the Flood. Prince's real name +is Huzzle, and his father kept a boot shop. I don't care a hang, +because he's a gentleman, but they would."</p> +<p>"But yet you're going to marry him. They must know sooner or +later. They ought to know."</p> +<p>"Time enough when I'm married. Then nothing can be done and +nothing can be said."</p> +<p>"Have you ever thought whether it wouldn't be well to give him +up?" said Septimus, in his hesitating way.</p> +<p>"I can't, I can't!" she cried. Then she burst into tears, and, +afraid lest Zora should surprise her, left the room without another +word.</p> +<p>On such occasions the most experienced man is helpless. He +shrugs his shoulders, says "Whew!" and lights a cigarette. +Septimus, with an infant's knowledge of the ways of young women, +felt terribly distressed by the tragedy of her tears. Something +must be done to stop them. He might start at once for Naples, and, +by the help of strong gendarmes whom he might suborn, bring back +Mordaunt Prince presently to London. Then he remembered his +overdrawn banking account, and sighfully gave up the idea. If only +he were not bound to secrecy and could confide in Zora. This a +sensitive honor forbade. What could he do? As the fire was getting +low he mechanically put on a <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_94" id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span>lump of coal with the +pincers. When Zora returned with the atlas she found him rubbing +them through his hair, and staring at vacancy.</p> +<p>"If I do go round the world," said Zora, a little while later, +when they had settled on which side of South America Valparaiso was +situated—and how many nice and clever people could tell you +positively, offhand?—"if I go round the world, you and Emmy +will have to come too. It would do her good. She has not been +looking well lately."</p> +<p>"It would be the very thing for her," said he.</p> +<p>"And for you too, Septimus," she remarked, with a quizzical +glance and smile.</p> +<p>"It's always good for me to be where you are."</p> +<p>"I was thinking of Emmy and not of myself," she laughed. "If you +could take care of her, it would be an excellent thing for +you."</p> +<p>"She wouldn't even trust me with her luggage," said Septimus, +miles away from Zora's meaning. "Would you?"</p> +<p>She laughed again. "I'm different. I should really have to look +after the two of you. But you could pretend to be taking care of +Emmy."</p> +<p>"I would do anything that gave you pleasure."</p> +<p>"Would you?" she asked.</p> +<p>They were sitting by the table—the atlas between them. She +moved her hand and touched his. The light of the lamp shone through +her hair, turning it to luminous gold. Her arm was bare to the +elbow, and the warm fragrance of her nearness overspread him. The +touch thrilled him to the depths, and he flushed to his upstanding +Struwel Peter hair. He tried to say something—he knew not +what; but his throat was smitten with sudden dryness. It seemed to +him that he had sat there, for the best part of an hour, +tongue-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id= +"Page_95"></a>[95]</span>tied, looking stupidly at the confluence +of the blue veins on her arm, longing to tell her that his senses +swam with the temptation of her touch and the rise and fall of her +bosom, through the great love he had for her, and yet +terror-stricken lest she might discover his secret, and punish his +audacity according to the summary methods of Juno, Diana, and other +offended goddesses whom mortals dared to love. It could only have +been a few seconds, for he heard her voice in his ears, at first +faint and then gathering distinctness, continuing in almost the +same breath as her question.</p> +<p>"Would you? Do you know the greatest pleasure you could give me? +It would be to become my brother—my real brother."</p> +<p>He turned bewildered eyes upon her.</p> +<p>"Your brother?"</p> +<p>She laughed, half impatiently, half gaily, gave his hand a final +tap and rose. He stood, too, mechanically.</p> +<p>"I think you're the obtusest man I've ever met. Anyone else +would have guessed long ago. Don't you see, you dear, foolish +thing"—she laid her hands on his shoulders and looked with +agonizing deliciousness into his face—"don't you see that you +want a wife to save you from omelettes that you have to use as +kettle-holders, and to give you a sense of responsibility? And +don't you see that Emmy, who is never happier than when—oh!" +she broke off impatiently, "don't you see?"</p> +<p>He had built for himself no card house of illusion, so it did +not come toppling down with dismaying clatter. But all the same he +felt as if her kind hands had turned death cold and were wringing +his heart. He took them from his shoulders, and, not +unpicturesquely, kissed her finger-tips. Then he dropped them and +walked to the fire and, with his <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span>back to the room, leaned on +the mantelpiece. A little china dog fell with a crash into the +fender.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry—" he began piteously.</p> +<p>"Never mind," said Zora, helping him to pick up the pieces. "A +man who can kiss a woman's hands like that is at liberty to clear +the whole house of gimcrackery."</p> +<p>"You are a very gracious lady. I said so long ago," replied +Septimus.</p> +<p>"I think I'm a fool," said Zora.</p> +<p>His face assumed a look of horror. His goddess a fool? She +laughed gaily.</p> +<p>"You look as if you were about to remark, 'If any man had said +that, the word would have been his last'! But I am, really. I +thought there might be something between you and Emmy and that a +little encouragement might help you. Forgive me. You see," she went +on, a trace of dewiness in her frank eyes, "I love Emmy dearly, and +in a sort of way I love you, too. And need I give any more +explanation?"</p> +<p>It was an honorable amends, royally made. Zora had a magnificent +style in doing such things: an indiscreet, venturesome, meddlesome +princess she might be, if you will; somewhat unreserved, somewhat +too conscious of her own Zoraesque sufficiency to possess the true +womanly intuition and sympathy; but still a princess who had the +grand manner in her scorn of trivialities. Septimus's hand shook a +little as he fitted the tail to the hollow bit of china dog-end. It +was sweet to be loved, although it was bitter to be loved in a sort +of way. Even a man like Septimus Dix has his feelings. He had to +hide them.</p> +<p>"You make me very happy," he said. "Your caring so much for me +as to wish me to marry your sister, I shall <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span>never +forget it. You see, I've never thought of her in that way. I +suppose I don't think of women at all in that way," he went on, +with a certain splendid mendacity. "It's a case of cog-wheels +instead of corpuscles. I'm just a heathen bit of machinery, with my +head full of diagrams."</p> +<p>"You're a tender-hearted baby," said Zora. "Give me those bits +of dog."</p> +<p>She took them from his hand and threw the mutilated body into +the fire.</p> +<p>"See," she said, "let us keep tokens. I'll keep the head and you +the tail. If ever you want me badly send me the tail, and I'll come +to you from any distance—and if I want you I'll send you the +head."</p> +<p>"I'll come to you from the ends of the earth," said +Septimus.</p> +<p>So he went home a happy man, with his tail in his pocket.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The next morning, about eight o'clock, just as he was sinking +into his first sleep, he was awakened through a sudden dream of +battle by a series of revolver shots. Wondering whether Wiggleswick +had gone mad or was attempting an elaborate and painful mode of +suicide, he leaped out of bed and rushed to the landing.</p> +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> +<p>"Hello! You're up at last!" cried Clem Sypher, appearing at the +bottom of the stairs, sprucely attired for the city, and wearing a +flower in the buttonhole of his overcoat. "I've had to break open +the front door in order to get in at all, and then I tried shooting +the bell for your valet. Can I come up?"</p> +<p>"Do," said Septimus, shivering. "Do you mind if I go back to +bed?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id= +"Page_98"></a>[98]</span>Do anything, except go to sleep," said +Sypher. "Look here. I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I couldn't +wait. I'm off to the office and heaven knows when I shall be back. +I want to talk to you about this."</p> +<p>He sat on the foot of the bed and threw the proofs of the gun +book on to Septimus's body, vaguely outlined beneath the clothes. +In the gray November light—Zora's carefully chosen curtains +and blinds had not been drawn—Sypher, pink and shiny, his +silk hat (which he wore) a resplendent miracle of valetry, looked +an urban yet roseate personification of Dawn. He seemed as eager as +Septimus was supine.</p> +<p>"I've sat up half the night over this thing," said he, "and I +really believe you've got it."</p> +<p>"Got what?" asked Septimus.</p> +<p>"<i>It</i>. The biggest thing on earth, bar Sypher's Cure."</p> +<p>"Wait till I've worked out my railway carriages," said +Septimus.</p> +<p>"Your railway carriages! Good gracious! Haven't you any sense of +what you're doing? Here you've worked out a scheme that may +revolutionize naval gunnery, and you talk rot about railway +carriages."</p> +<p>"I'm glad you like the book," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"Are you going to publish it?"</p> +<p>"Of course."</p> +<p>"Ask your publisher how much he'll take to let you off your +bargain."</p> +<p>"I'm publishing it at my own expense," said Septimus, in the +middle of a yawn.</p> +<p>"And presenting it gratis to the governments of the world?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I might send them copies," said Septimus. "It's a good +idea."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id= +"Page_99"></a>[99]</span>Clem Sypher thrust his hat to the back of +his head, and paced the room from the wash-stand past the +dressing-table to the wardrobe and back again.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm hanged!" said he.</p> +<p>Septimus asked why.</p> +<p>"I thought I was a philanthropist," said Sypher, "but by the +side of you I'm a vulture. Has it not struck you that, if the big +gun is what I think, any government on earth would give you what +you like to ask for the specification?"</p> +<p>"Really? Do you think they would give me a couple of hundred +pounds?" asked Septimus, thinking vaguely of Mordaunt Prince in +Naples and his overdrawn banking account. The anxiety of his +expression was not lost on Sypher.</p> +<p>"Are you in need of a couple of hundred pounds?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Until my dividends are due. I've been speculating, and I'm +afraid I haven't a head for business."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you haven't," grinned Sypher, leaning over the +footrail of the bed. "Next time you speculate come to me first for +advice. Let me be your agent for these guns, will you?"</p> +<p>"I should be delighted," said Septimus, "and for the railway +carriages too. There's also a motor car I've invented which goes by +clockwork. You've got to wind it by means of a donkey engine. It's +quite simple."</p> +<p>"I should think it would be," said Sypher drily. "But I'll only +take on the guns just for the present."</p> +<p>He drew a check book from one pocket and a fountain pen from +another.</p> +<p>"I'll advance you two hundred pounds for the sole right +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id= +"Page_100"></a>[100]</span>to deal with the thing on your behalf. +My solicitors will send you a document full of verbiage which you +had better send off to your solicitor to look through before you +sign it. It will be all right. I'm going to take the proofs. Of +course this stops publishing," he remarked, looking round from the +dressing-table where he was writing the check.</p> +<p>Septimus assented and took the check wonderingly, remarking that +he didn't in the least know what it was for.</p> +<p>"For the privilege of making your fortune. Good-by," said he. +"Don't get up."</p> +<p>"Good night," said Septimus, and the door having closed behind +Clem Sypher, he thrust the check beneath the bedclothes, curled +himself up and went to sleep like a dormouse.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span>CHAPTER +VIII</h2> +<p>Clem Sypher stood at the front door of Penton Court a day or two +afterwards, awaiting his guests and taking the air. The leaves of +the oaks that lined the drive fell slowly under the breath of a +southwest wind, and joined their sodden brethren on the path. The +morning mist still hung around the branches. The sky threatened +rain.</p> +<p>A servant came from within the house, bringing a telegram on a +tray. Sypher opened it, and his strong, pink face became as +overcast as the sky. It was from the London office of the Cure, and +contained the information that one of his largest buyers had +reduced his usual order by half. The news was depressing. So was +the prospect before him, of dripping trees and of evergreens on the +lawn trying to make the best of it in forlorn bravery. Heaven had +ordained that the earth should be fair and Sypher's Cure +invincible. Something was curiously wrong in the execution of +Heaven's decrees. He looked again at the preposterous statement, +knitting his brow. Surely this was some base contrivance of the +enemy. They had been underselling and outadvertising him for +months, and had ousted him from the custom of several large firms +already. Something had to be done. As has been remarked before, +Sypher was a man of Napoleonic methods. He called for a telegraph +form, and wrote as he stood, with the tray as a desk:</p> +<p>"If you can't buy advertising rights on St. Paul's +Cathe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id= +"Page_102"></a>[102]</span>dral or Westminster Abbey, secure +outside pages of usual dailies for Thursday. Will draw up 'ad' +myself."</p> +<p>He gave it to the servant, smiled in anticipation of the battle, +and felt better. When Zora, Emmy, and Septimus appeared at the turn +of the drive, he rushed to meet them, beaming with welcome and +exuberant in phrase. This was the best housewarming that could be +imagined. Just three friends to luncheon—three live people. A +gathering of pale-souled folk would have converted the house into a +chilly barn. They would warm it with the glow of friendship. Mrs. +Middlemist, looking like a rose in June, had already irradiated the +wan November garden. Miss Oldrieve he likened to a spring crocus, +and Septimus (with a slap on the back) could choose the vegetable +he would like to resemble. They must look over the house before +lunch. Afterwards, outside, the great surprise awaited them. What +was it? Ah! He turned laughing eyes on them, like a boy.</p> +<p>The great London firm to whom he had entrusted the furniture and +decoration had done their splendid worst. The drawing-room had the +appearance of an hotel sitting-room trying to look coy. An air of +factitious geniality pervaded the dining-room. An engraving of +Frans Hals's "Laughing Cavalier" hung with too great a semblance of +jollity over the oak sideboard. Everything was too new, too +ordered, too unindividual; but Sypher loved it, especially the +high-art wall-paper and restless frieze. Zora, a woman of +instinctive taste, who, if she bought a bedroom water-bottle, +managed to identify it with her own personality, professed her +admiration with a woman's pitying mendacity, but resolved to change +many things for the good of Clem Sypher's soul. Emmy, still pale +and preoccupied, said little. She was not in a mood to appreciate +Clem<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id= +"Page_103"></a>[103]</span> Sypher, whose loud voice and Napoleonic +manners jarred upon her nerves. Septimus thought it all +prodigiously fine, whereat Emmy waxed sarcastic.</p> +<p>"I wish I could do something for you," he said, heedless of her +taunts, during a moment when they were out of earshot of the +others. He had already offered to go to Naples and bring back +Mordaunt Prince, and had received instant orders not to be a fool. +"I wish I could make you laugh again."</p> +<p>"I don't want to laugh," she replied impatiently. "I want to sit +on the floor and howl."</p> +<p>They happened to be in the hall. At the farther end Septimus +caught sight of a fluffy Persian kitten playing with a bit of +paper, and guided by one of his queer intuitions he went and picked +it up and laid its baby softness against the girl's cheek. Her mood +changed magically.</p> +<p>"Oh, the darling!" she cried, and kissed its tiny, wet nose.</p> +<p>She was quite polite to Sypher during luncheon, and laughed when +he told her that he called the kitten Jebusa Jones. She asked +why.</p> +<p>"Because," said he, showing his hand covered with scratches, +"she produces on the human epidermis the same effect as his +poisonous cuticle remedy."</p> +<p>Whereupon Emmy decided that the man who could let a kitten +scratch his hand in that fashion had elements of good in his +nature.</p> +<p>"Now for the surprise," said Sypher, when Septimus and he joined +the ladies after lunch. "Come."</p> +<p>They followed him outside, through the French windows of the +drawing-room. "Other people," said he, "want <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span>houses +with lawns reaching down to the side of the river or the Menai +Straits or Windermere. I'm the only person, I think, who has ever +sought for a lawn running down to a main line of railway."</p> +<p>"That's why this house was untenanted so long," said Zora.</p> +<p>A row of trees separated the small garden from the lawn in +question. When they passed through this screen, the lawn and the +line of railway and the dreamy, undulating Surrey country came into +view. Also an enormous board. Why hadn't he taken it down, Zora +asked.</p> +<p>"That's the surprise!" exclaimed Sypher eagerly. "Come round to +the front."</p> +<p>He led the way, striding some yards ahead. Presently he turned +and struck a dramatic attitude, as a man might do who had built +himself a new wonder house. And then on three astonished pairs of +eyes burst the following inscription in gigantic capitals which he +who flew by in an express train could read:</p> +<p>SYPHER'S CURE!<br /> +Clem Sypher. Friend of Humanity!<br /> +I LIVE HERE!</p> +<p>"Isn't that great?" he cried. "I've had it in my mind for years. +It's the personal note that's so valuable. This brings the whole +passing world into personal contact with me. It shows that Sypher's +Cure isn't a quack thing run by a commercial company, but the +possession of a man who has a house, who lives in the very house +you can see through the trees. 'What kind of a man is he?' they +ask.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id= +"Page_105"></a>[105]</span> 'He must be a nice man to live in such +a nice house. I almost feel I know him. <i>I'll try his Cure</i>.' +Don't you think it's a colossal idea?"</p> +<p>He looked questioningly into three embarrassed faces. Emmy, in +spite of her own preoccupation, suppressed a giggle. There was a +moment's silence, which was broken by Septimus's mild voice:</p> +<p>"I think, by means of levers running down to the line and worked +by the trains as they passed, I could invent a machine for throwing +little boxes of samples from the board into the railway carriage +windows."</p> +<p>Emmy burst out laughing. "Come and show me how you would do +it."</p> +<p>She linked her arm in his and dragged him down to the line, +where she spoke with mirthful disrespect of Sypher's Cure. +Meanwhile Zora said nothing to Sypher.</p> +<p>"Don't you like it?" he asked at last, disconcerted.</p> +<p>"Do you want me to be the polite lady you've asked to lunch or +your friend?"</p> +<p>"My friend and my helper," said he.</p> +<p>"Then," she replied, touching his coat sleeve, "I must say that +I don't like it. I hate it. I think it's everything that is most +abominable."</p> +<p>The board was one pride of his heart, and Zora was another. He +looked at them both alternately in a piteous, crestfallen way.</p> +<p>"But why?" he asked.</p> +<p>Zora's eyes filled with tears. She saw that her lack of +appreciation had hurt him to the heart. She was a generous woman, +and did not convict him, as she would have done another man, of +blatant vulgarity. Yet she felt preposterously pained. Why could +not this great, single-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id= +"Page_106"></a>[106]</span>minded creature, with ideas as high as +they were queer, perceive the board's rank abomination?</p> +<p>"It's unworthy of you," she said bravely. "I want everyone to +respect you as I do. You see the Cure isn't everything. There's a +man behind it."</p> +<p>"That's the object of the board," said Sypher. "To show the +man."</p> +<p>"But it doesn't show the chivalrous gentleman that I think you +are," she replied quickly. "It gives the impression of some one +quite different—a horrid creature who would sell his +self-respect for money. Oh, don't you understand? It's as bad as +walking through the streets with 'Sypher's Cure' painted on your +hat."</p> +<p>"What can I do about it?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Take it down at once," said Zora.</p> +<p>"But to exhibit the board was my sole reason for buying the +place."</p> +<p>"I'm very sorry," she said gently, "but I can't change my +opinion."</p> +<p>He cast a lingering glance at the board, and then turned. "Let +us go back to the house," he said.</p> +<p>They walked a little way in silence. As they passed by the +shrubbery at the side of the house, he gravely pushed aside a wet, +hanging branch for her to proceed dry. Then he joined her +again.</p> +<p>"You are angry with me for speaking so," said Zora.</p> +<p>He stopped and looked at her, his eyes bright and clear. "Do you +think I'm a born fool? Do you think I can't tell loyalty when I see +it, and am such an ass as not to prize it above all things? It cost +you a lot to say that to me. You're right. I suppose I've lost +sense of myself in the Cure. When I think of it, I seem just to be +the machine <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id= +"Page_107"></a>[107]</span>that is distributing it over the earth. +And that, too, I suppose, is why I want you. The board is an +abomination that cries to heaven. It shall be instantly removed. +There!"</p> +<p>He held out his hand. She gave him hers and he pressed it +warmly.</p> +<p>"Are you going to give up the house now that it's useless?" she +asked.</p> +<p>"Do you wish me to?"</p> +<p>"What have I to do with it?"</p> +<p>"Zora Middlemist," said he, "I'm a superstitious man in some +things. You have everything to do with my success. Sooner than +forfeit your respect I would set fire to every stick I possessed. I +would give up everything I had in the world except my faith in the +Cure."</p> +<p>"Wouldn't you give up that—if it were necessary so as to +keep my respect?" she asked, prompted by the insane devil that +lurks in the heart of even the most sainted of women and does not +like its gracious habitat to be reckoned lower than a quack +ointment. It is the same little devil that makes a young wife ask +her devoted husband which of the two he would save if she and his +mother were drowning. It is the little devil that is responsible +for infinite mendacity on the part of men. "Have you ever said that +to another woman?" No; of course he hasn't; and the wretch is +instantly, perjured. "Would you sell your soul for me?" "My +immortal soul," says the good fellow, instantaneously converted +into an atrocious liar; and the little devil coos with satisfaction +and curls himself up snugly to sleep.</p> +<p>But on this occasion the little devil had no success.</p> +<p>"I would give up my faith in the Cure for nothing in the wide +world," said Sypher gravely.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id= +"Page_108"></a>[108]</span>I'm very glad to hear it," said Zora, in +her frankest tone. But the little devil asked her whether she was +quite sure; whereupon she hit him smartly over the head and bade +him lie down. Her respect, however, for Sypher increased.</p> +<p>They were joined by Emmy and Septimus.</p> +<p>"I think I could manage it," said the latter, "if I cut a hole a +foot square in the board and fixed a magazine behind it."</p> +<p>"There will be no necessity," returned Sypher. "Mrs. Middlemist +has ordered its immediate removal."</p> +<p>That was the end of the board episode. The next day he had it +taken down and chopped into fire-wood, a cart-load of which he sent +with his humble compliments to Mrs. Middlemist. Zora called it a +burnt offering. She found more satisfaction in the blaze that +roared up the chimney than she could explain to her mother; perhaps +more than she could explain to herself. Septimus had first taught +her the pleasantness of power. But that was nothing to this. +Anybody, even Emmy, curly-headed baby that she was, could turn poor +Septimus into a slave. For a woman to impose her will upon Clem +Sypher, Friend of Humanity, the Colossus of Curemongers, was no +such trumpery achievement.</p> +<p>Emmy, when she referred to the matter, expressed the hope that +Zora had rubbed it into Clem Sypher. Zora deprecated the personal +bearing of the slang metaphor, but admitted, somewhat grandly, that +she had pointed out the error in taste.</p> +<p>"I can't see, though, why you take all this trouble over Mr. +Sypher," said Emmy.</p> +<p>"I value his friendship," replied Zora, looking up from a letter +she was reading.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id= +"Page_109"></a>[109]</span>This was at breakfast. When the maid had +entered with the post Emmy had gripped the table and watched with +hungry eyes, but the only letter that had come for her had been on +theatrical business. Not the one she longed for. Emmy's world was +out of joint.</p> +<p>"You've changed your opinion, my dear, as to the value of men," +she sneered. "There was a time when you didn't want to see them or +speak to them or have anything to do with them. Now it seems you +can't get on without them."</p> +<p>"My dear Emmy," said Zora calmly, "men as possible lovers and +men as staunch friends are two entirely different conceptions."</p> +<p>Emmy broke a piece of toast viciously.</p> +<p>"I think they're beasts," she exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Good heavens! Why?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't know. They are."</p> +<p>Then, after the quick, frightened glance of the woman who fears +she has said too much, she broke into a careless half-laugh.</p> +<p>"They are such liars. Fawcett promised me a part in his new +production and writes to-day to say I can't have it."</p> +<p>As Emmy's professional disappointments had been many, and as +Zora in her heart of hearts did not entirely approve of her +sister's musical-comedy career, she tempered her sympathy with +philosophic reflections. She had never taken Emmy seriously. All +her life long Emmy had been the kitten sister, with a kitten's +pretty but unimportant likes, dislikes, habits, occupations, and +aspirations. To regard her as being under the shadow of a woman's +tragedy had never entered her head. The kitten playing Antigone, +Ophelia, or such like distressed heroines, in awful, grim earnest +is not a conception that readily occurs even to the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span>most +affectionate and imaginative of kitten owners. Zora accepted Emmy's +explanation of her petulance with a spirit entirely unperturbed, +and resumed the perusal of her letter. It was from the Callenders, +who wrote from California. Zora must visit them on her way round +the world.</p> +<p>She laid down the letter and stirred her tea absently, her mind +full of snow-capped sierras, and clear blue air, and peach forests, +and all the wonders of that wonderland. And Emmy stirred her tea, +too, in an absent manner, but her mind was filled with the most +terrible thoughts wherewith a woman's mind can be haunted.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span>CHAPTER +IX</h2> +<p>Septimus had never seen a woman faint before. At first he +thought Emmy was dead, and rubbed agonized hands together like a +fly. When he realized what had happened, he produced a large +jack-knife which he always carried in his trousers pocket—for +the purpose, he explained, of sharpening pencils—and offered +it to Zora with the vague idea that the first aid to fainting women +consisted in cutting their stay-laces. Zora rebuked him for +futility, and bade him ring the bell for the maid.</p> +<p>It was all very sudden. The scene had been one that of late had +grown so familiar: Zora and Septimus poring over world itineraries, +the latter full of ineffectual suggestion and irrelevant +reminiscence, and Emmy reading by the fire. On this occasion it was +the <i>Globe</i> newspaper which Septimus, who had spent the day in +London on an unexecuted errand to his publisher, had brought back +with him. Evening papers being luxuries in Nunsmere, he had hidden +it carefully from Wiggleswick, in order to present it to the +ladies. Suddenly there was a rustle and a slither by the +fire-place, and Emmy, in a dead faint, hung over the arm of the +chair. In her hand she grasped the outer sheet of the paper. The +inner sheet, according to the untidy ways of women with newspapers, +lay discarded on the floor.</p> +<p>With Septimus's help Zora and the maid carried her to the sofa; +they opened the window and gave her smelling salts. Septimus +anxiously desired to be assured that she <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span>was not +dying, and Zora thanked heaven that her mother had gone to bed. +Presently Emmy recovered consciousness.</p> +<p>"I must have fainted," she said in a whisper.</p> +<p>"Yes, dear," said Zora, kneeling by her side. "Are you +better?"</p> +<p>Emmy stared past Zora at something unseen and terrifying.</p> +<p>"It was foolish. The heat, I suppose. Mr. Sypher's burning +board." She turned an appealing glance to Septimus. "Did I say +anything silly?"</p> +<p>When he told her that she had slipped over the arm of the chair +without a word, she looked relieved and closed her eyes. As soon as +she had revived sufficiently she allowed herself to be led +up-stairs; but before going she pressed Septimus's hand with +feverish significance.</p> +<p>Even to so inexperienced a mind as his the glance and the +hand-shake conveyed a sense of trust, suggested dimly a reason for +the fainting fit. Once more he stood alone and perplexed in the +little drawing-room. Once more he passed his long fingers through +his Struwel Peter hair and looked about the room for inspiration. +Finding none, he mechanically gathered up the two parts of the +newspaper, with a man's instinct for tidiness in printed matter, +and smoothed out the crumples that Emmy's hand had made on the +outer sheet. Whilst doing so, a paragraph met his eye, causing him +to stare helplessly at the paper.</p> +<p>It was the announcement of the marriage of Mordaunt Prince at +the British Consulate in Naples.</p> +<p>The unutterable perfidy of man! For the first time in his +guileless life Septimus met it face to face. To read of human +depravity in the police reports is one thing, to see it fall like a +black shadow across one's life is another. It <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id= +"Page_113"></a>[113]</span>horrified him. Mordaunt Prince had +committed the unforgivable sin. He had stolen a girl's love, and +basely, meanly, he had slunk off, deceiving her to the last. To +Septimus the lover who kissed and rode away had ever appeared a +despicable figure of romance. The fellow who did it in real life +proclaimed himself an unconscionable scoundrel. The memory of +Emmy's forget-me-not blue eyes turning into sapphires as she sang +the villain's praises smote him. He clenched his fists and put to +incoherent use his limited vocabulary of anathema. Then fearing, in +his excited state, to meet Zora, lest he should betray the +miserable secret, he stuffed the newspaper into his pocket, and +crept out of the house.</p> +<p>Before his own fire he puzzled over the problem. Something must +be done. But what? Hale Mordaunt Prince from his bride's arms and +bring him penitent to Nunsmere? What would be the good of that, +seeing that polygamy is not openly sanctioned by Western +civilization? Proceed to Naples and chastise him? That were better. +The monster deserved it. But how are men chastised? Septimus had no +experience. He reflected vaguely that people did this sort of thing +with a horsewhip. He speculated on the kind of horsewhip that would +be necessary. A hunting crop with no lash would not be more +effective than an ordinary walking stick. With a lash it would be +cumbrous, unless he kept at an undignified distance and flicked at +his victim as the ring-master in the circus flicks at the clown. +Perhaps horsewhips for this particular purpose could be obtained +from the Army and Navy Stores. It should be about three feet long, +flexible and tapering to a point. Unconsciously his inventive +faculty began to work. When he had devised an adequate instrument, +made of fine steel <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id= +"Page_114"></a>[114]</span>wires ingeniously plaited, he awoke, +somewhat shame-facedly, to the commonplaces of the original +problem. What was to be done?</p> +<p>He pondered for some hours, then he sighed and sought +consolation in his bassoon; but after a few bars of "Annie Laurie" +he put the unedifying instrument back in its corner and went out +for a walk. It was a starry night of frost. Nunsmere lay silent as +Bethlehem; and a star hung low in the east. Far away across the +common gleamed one solitary light in the vicarage windows; the +Vicar, good gentleman, finishing his unruffled sermon while his +parish slept. Otherwise darkness spread over everything save the +sky. Not a creature on the road, not a creature on the common, not +even the lame donkey. Incredibly distant the faint sound of a +railway whistle intensified the stillness. Septimus's own footsteps +on the crisp grass rang loud in his ears. Yet both stillness and +darkness felt companionable, in harmony with the starlit dimness of +the man's mind. His soul was having its adventure while mystery +filled the outer air. He walked on, wrapped in the nebulous +fantasies which passed with him for thought, heedless, as he always +was, of the flight of time. Once he halted by the edge of the pond, +and, sitting on a bench, lit and smoked his pipe until the cold +forced him to rise. With an instinctive desire to hear some earthly +sound, he picked up a stone and threw it into the water. He +shivered at the ghostly splash and moved away, himself an +ineffectual ghost wandering aimlessly in the night.</p> +<p>The Vicar's lamp had been extinguished long ago. A faint breeze +sprang up. The star sank lower in the sky. Suddenly, as he turned +back from the road to cross the common for the hundredth time, he +became aware that he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id= +"Page_115"></a>[115]</span>was not alone. Footsteps rather felt +than heard were in front of him. He pressed forward and peered +through the darkness, and finally made out a dim form some thirty +yards away. Idly he followed and soon recognized the figure as that +of a woman hurrying fast. Why a woman should be crossing Nunsmere +Common at four o'clock in the morning passed his power of +conjecture. She was going neither to nor from the doctor, whose +house lay behind the vicarage on the right. All at once her +objective became clear to him. He thought of the splash of the +stone. She was making straight for the pond. He hastened his pace, +came up within a few yards of her and then stopped dead. It was +Emmy. He recognized the zibeline toque and coat edged with the same +fur which she often wore. She carried something in her hand, he +could not tell what.</p> +<p>She went on, unconscious of his nearness. He followed her, +horror-stricken. Emmy, a new Ophelia, was about to seek a watery +grave for herself and her love sorrow. Again came the problem which +in moments of emergency Septimus had never learned to solve. What +should he do? Across the agony of his mind shot a feeling of +horrible indelicacy in thrusting himself upon a woman at such a +moment. He was half tempted to turn back and leave her to the +sanctity of her grief. But again the splash echoed in his ears and +again he shivered. The water was so black and cold. And what could +he say to Zora? The thought lashed his pace to sudden swiftness and +Emmy turned with a little scream of fear.</p> +<p>"Who are you?"</p> +<p>"It's I, Septimus," he stammered, taking hold of his cap. "For +God's sake, don't do it."</p> +<p>"I shall. Go away. How dare you spy on me?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id= +"Page_116"></a>[116]</span>She stood and faced him, and her +features were just discernible in the dim starlight. Anger rang in +her voice. She stamped her foot.</p> +<p>"How dare you?"</p> +<p>"I haven't been spying on you," he explained. "I only recognized +you a couple of minutes ago. I was walking about—taking a +stroll before breakfast, you know."</p> +<p>"Oh!" she said, stonily.</p> +<p>"I'm dreadfully sorry to have intruded upon you," he continued, +twirling his cap nervously in his fingers while the breeze played +through his upstanding hair. "I didn't mean to—but I couldn't +stand by and let you do it. I couldn't, really."</p> +<p>"Do what?" she asked, still angry. Septimus did not know that +beneath the fur-lined jacket her heart was thumping madly.</p> +<p>"Drown yourself," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"In the pond?" she laughed hysterically. "In three feet of +water? How do you think I was going to manage it?"</p> +<p>Septimus reflected. He had not thought of the pond's inadequate +depth.</p> +<p>"You might have lain down at the bottom until it was all over," +he remarked in perfect seriousness. "I once heard of a servant girl +who drowned herself in a basin of water."</p> +<p>Emmy turned impatiently and, walking on, waved him away; but he +accompanied her mechanically.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't follow me," she cried in a queer voice. "Leave me +alone, for God's sake. I'm not going to commit suicide. I wish to +heaven I had the pluck."</p> +<p>"But if you're not going to do that, why on earth are you +here?"</p> +<p>"I'm taking a stroll before breakfast—just like +yourself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id= +"Page_117"></a>[117]</span> Why am I here? If you really want to +know," she added defiantly, "I'm going to London—by the early +train from Hensham—the milk train. See, I'm respectable. I +have my luggage." She swung something in the dark before him and he +perceived that it was a handbag. "Now are you satisfied? Or do you +think I was going to take a handkerchief and a powder puff into the +other world with me? I'm just simply going to London—nothing +more."</p> +<p>"But it's a seven-mile walk to Hensham."</p> +<p>She made no reply, but quickened her pace. Septimus, in a whirl +of doubt and puzzledom, walked by her side, still holding his cap +in his hand. Even the intelligence of the local policeman would +have connected her astounding appearance on the common with the +announcement in the <i>Globe</i>. He took that for granted. But if +she were not about to destroy herself, why this untimely flight to +London? Why walk seven miles in wintry darkness when she could have +caught a train at Ripstead (a mile away) a few hours later, in +orthodox comfort? It was a mystery, a tragic and perplexing +mystery.</p> +<p>They passed by the pond in silence, crossed the common and +reached the main road.</p> +<p>"I wish I knew what to do, Emmy," he said at last. "I hate +forcing my company upon you, and yet I feel I should be doing wrong +to leave you unprotected. You see, I should not be able to face +Zora."</p> +<p>"You had better face her as late as possible," she replied +quickly. "Perhaps you had better walk to the station with me. Would +you?"</p> +<p>"It would ease my mind."</p> +<p>"All right. Only, for God's sake, don't chatter. I don't want +you of all people to get on my nerves."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id= +"Page_118"></a>[118]</span>Let me carry your bag," said Septimus, +"and you had better have my stick."</p> +<p>The process of transference brought to his consciousness the +fact of his bareheadedness. He put on his cap and they trudged +along the road like gipsy man and wife, saying not a word to each +other. For two miles they proceeded thus, sometimes in utter +blackness when the road wound between thick oak plantations, +sometimes in the lesser dimness of the open when it passed by the +rolling fields; and not a sign of human life disturbed the country +stillness. Then they turned into the London road and passed through +a village. Lights were in the windows. One cottage door stood open. +A shaft of light streamed across Emmy's face, and Septimus caught a +glimpse of drawn and haggard misery. They went on for another mile. +Now and then a laborer passed them with an unsurprised greeting. A +milkcart rattled by and then all was silence again. Gradually the +stars lost brilliance.</p> +<p>All of a sudden, at the foot of a rise crowned by a cottage +looming black against the sky, Emmy broke down and cast herself on +a heap of stones by the side of the road, a helpless bundle of sobs +and incoherent lamentations. She could bear it no longer. Why had +he not spoken to her? She could go no further. She wished she were +dead. What was going to become of her? How could he walk by her +side saying nothing, like a dumb jailer? He had better go back to +Nunsmere and leave her to die by the wayside. It was all she asked +of Heaven.</p> +<p>"Oh, God have pity on me," she moaned, and rocked herself to and +fro.</p> +<p>Septimus stood for a time tongue-tied in acute distress. This +was his first adventure in knight-errantry and he had <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span>served +before neither as page nor squire. He would have given his head to +say the unknown words that might comfort her. All he could do was +to pat her on the shoulder in a futile way and bid her not to cry, +which, as all the world knows, is the greatest encouragement to +further shedding of tears a weeping woman can have. Emmy sobbed +more bitterly than ever. Once more on that night of agonizing +dubiety, what was to be done? He looked round desperately for +guidance, and, as he looked, a light appeared in the window of the +hilltop cottage.</p> +<p>"Perhaps," said he, "if I knock at the door up there, they can +give you a glass of milk. Or a cup of tea," he added, brightening +with the glow of inspiration. "Or they may be able to let you lie +down for a while."</p> +<p>But Emmy shook her head miserably. Milk, tea, recumbent luxury +were as nothing to her. Neither poppy nor mandragora (or words to +that effect) could give her ease again. And she couldn't walk four +miles, and she must catch the morning train.</p> +<p>"If you'll tell me what I can do," said Septimus, "I'll do +it."</p> +<p>A creaky rumble was heard in the distance and presently they +made out a cart coming slowly down the hill. Septimus had another +brilliant idea.</p> +<p>"Let me put you into that and take you back to Nunsmere."</p> +<p>She sprang to her feet and clutched his arm.</p> +<p>"Never. Never, do you hear? I couldn't bear it. Mother, +Zora—I couldn't see them again. Last night they nearly drove +me into hysterics. What do you suppose I came out for at this hour, +if it wasn't to avoid meeting them? Let us go on. If I die on the +road, so much the better."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id= +"Page_120"></a>[120]</span>Perhaps," said Septimus, "I could carry +you."</p> +<p>She softened, linked her arm in his, and almost laughed, as they +started up the hill.</p> +<p>"What a good fellow you are, and I've been behaving like a +beast. Anyone but you would have worried me with +questions—and small wonder. But you haven't even asked +me—"</p> +<p>"Hush," said Septimus. "I know. I saw the paragraph in the +newspaper. Don't let's talk of it. Let us talk of something else. +Do you like honey? The Great Bear put me in mind. Wiggleswick wants +to keep bees. I tell him, if he does, I'll keep a bear. He could +eat the honey, you see. And then I could teach him to dance by +playing the bassoon to him. Perhaps he would like the bassoon," he +continued, after a pause, in his wistful way. "Nobody else +does."</p> +<p>"If you had it with you now, I should love it for your sake," +said Emmy with a sob.</p> +<p>"If you would take my advice and rest in the cottage, I could +send for it," he replied unsmilingly.</p> +<p>"We must catch the train," said Emmy.</p> +<p>In Wirley, half a mile further, folks were stirring. A cart +laden with market produce waited by a cottage door for the driver +who stood swallowing his final cup of tea. A bare-headed child +clung round his leg, an attendant Hebe. The wanderers halted.</p> +<p>"If the other cart could have taken us back to Nunsmere," said +Septimus, with the air of a man who has arrived at Truth, "this one +can carry us to the station."</p> +<p>And so it fell out. The men made Emmy as comfortable as could be +among the cabbages, with some sacks for rugs, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span>and +there she lay drowsy with pain and weariness until they came to the +end of their journey.</p> +<p>A gas-light or two accentuated the murky dismalness of the +little station. Emmy sank exhausted on a bench in the booking hail, +numb with cold, and too woebegone to think of her hair, which +straggled limply from beneath the zibeline toque. Septimus went to +the booking office and asked for two first-class tickets to London. +When he joined her again she was crying softly.</p> +<p>"You're coming with me? It is good of you."</p> +<p>"I'm responsible for you to Zora."</p> +<p>A shaft of jealousy shot through her tears.</p> +<p>"You always think of Zora."</p> +<p>"To think of her," replied Septimus, vaguely allusive, "is a +liberal education."</p> +<p>Emmy shrugged her shoulders. She was not of the type that makes +paragons out of her own sex, and she had also a sisterly knowledge +of Zora unharmonious with Septimus's poetic conception. But she +felt too miserable to argue. She asked him the time.</p> +<p>At last the train came in. There was a great rattling of +milk-cans on the gloomy platform, and various slouching shapes +entered third-class carriages. The wanderers had the only +first-class compartment to themselves. It struck cold and noisome, +like a peculiarly unaired charnel-house. A feeble lamp, whose +effect was dimmed by the swishing dirty oil in the bottom of the +globe, gave a pretense at illumination. The guard passing by the +window turned his lantern on them and paused for a wondering +moment. Were they a runaway couple? If so, thought he, they had +arrived at quick repentance. As they looked too dismal for tips, he +concerned himself with them no more. The <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span>train +started. Emmy shook with cold, in spite of her fur-lined jacket. +Septimus took off his overcoat and spread it over their two bodies +as they huddled together for warmth. After a while her head drooped +on his shoulder and she slept, while Septimus sucked his empty +pipe, not daring to light it lest he should disturb her slumbers. +For the same reason he forbore to change his original awkward +attitude, and in consequence suffered agonies of pins and needles. +To have a solid young woman asleep in your arms is not the romantic +pleasure the poets make out; for comfort, she might just as well +stand on your head. Also, as Emmy unconsciously drew the overcoat +away from him, one side of his body perished with cold; and a +dinner suit is not warm enough for traveling on a frosty +morning.</p> +<p>The thought of his dinner jacket reminded him of his puzzledom. +What were Emmy and himself doing in that galley of a railway +carriage when they might have been so much more comfortable in +their own beds in Nunsmere? It was an impenetrable mystery to which +the sleeping girl who was causing him such acute though cheerfully +borne discomfort alone had the key. In vain did he propound to +himself the theory that such speculation betokened an indelicate +mind; in vain did he ask himself with unwonted severity what +business it was of his; in vain did he try to hitch his thoughts to +Patent Safety Railway Carriages, which were giving him a great deal +of trouble; in vain did he try to sleep. The question haunted him. +So much so that when Emmy awoke and rubbed her eyes, and in some +confusion apologized for the use to which she had put his shoulder, +he was almost ashamed to look her in the face.</p> +<p>"What are you going to do when you get to Victoria?" Emmy +asked.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id= +"Page_123"></a>[123]</span>Septimus had not thought of it. "Go back +to Nunsmere, I suppose, by the next train—unless you want +me?"</p> +<p>"No, I don't want you," said Emmy absently. "Why should I?"</p> +<p>And she gazed stonily at the suburban murk of the great city +until they reached Victoria. There, a dejected four-wheeled cab +with a drooping horse stood solitary on the rank—a depressing +object. Emmy shivered at the sight.</p> +<p>"I can't stand it. Drive me to my door. I know I'm a beast, +Septimus dear, but I am grateful. I am, really."</p> +<p>The cab received them into its musty interior and drove them +through the foggy brown of a London winter dawn. Unimaginable +cheerlessness enveloped them. The world wore an air of disgust at +having to get up on such a morning. The atmosphere for thirty yards +around them was clear enough, with the clearness of yellow +consommé, but ahead it stood thick, like a purée of +bad vegetables. They passed through Belgravia, and the +white-blinded houses gave an impression of universal death, and the +empty streets seemed waiting for the doors to open and the mourners +to issue forth. The cab, too, had something of the sinister, in +that it was haunted by the ghosts of a fourpenny cigar and a +sixpenny bottle of scent which continued a lugubrious flirtation; +and the windows rattled a <i>danse macabre</i>. At last it pulled +up at the door of Emmy's Mansions in Chelsea.</p> +<p>She looked at him very piteously, like a frightened child. Her +pretty mouth was never strong, but when the corners drooped it was +babyish. She slipped her hand in his.</p> +<p>"Don't leave me just yet. It's silly, I know—but this +awful journey has taken everything out of me. Every bit of it has +been worse than the last. Edith—that's my +maid—will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id= +"Page_124"></a>[124]</span> light a fire—you must get warm +before you start—and she'll make some coffee. Oh, do come. +You can keep the cab."</p> +<p>"But what will your maid think?" asked Septimus, who for all his +vagueness had definite traditions as to the proprieties of +life.</p> +<p>"What does it matter? What does anything in this ghastly world +matter? I'm frightened, Septimus, horribly frightened. I daren't go +up by myself. Oh! Come!"</p> +<p>Her voice broke on the last word. Saint Anthony would have +yielded; also his pig. Septimus handed her out of the cab, and +telling the cabman to wait, followed her through the already opened +front door of the Mansions up to her flat. She let herself in with +her latchkey and showed him into the drawing-room, turning on the +electric light as he entered.</p> +<p>"I'll go and wake Edith," she said. "Then we can have some +breakfast. The fire's laid. Do you mind putting a match to it?"</p> +<p>She disappeared and Septimus knelt down before the grate and lit +the paper. In a second or two the flame caught the wood, and, the +blower being down, it blazed fiercely. He spread his ice-cold hands +out before it, incurious of the futile little room whose draperies +and fripperies and inconsiderable flimsiness of furniture +proclaimed its owner, intent only on the elemental need of warmth. +He was disturbed by the tornadic entrance of Emmy.</p> +<p>"She's not here!" she exclaimed tragically. Her baby face was +white and there were dark shadows under the eyes which stared at +him with a touch of madness. "She's not here!"</p> +<p>"Perhaps she has gone out for a walk," Septimus sug<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span>gested, +as if London serving-maids were in the habit of taking the air at +eight o'clock on a foggy morning.</p> +<p>But Emmy heard him not. The dismaying sense of utter loneliness +smote her down. It was the last straw. Edith, on whom she had +staked all her hopes of physical comfort, was not there. +Overstrained in body, nerves, and mind, she sank helplessly in the +chair which Septimus set out for her before the fire, too exhausted +to cry. She began to speak in a queer, toneless voice:</p> +<p>"I don't know what to do. Edith could have helped me. I want to +get away and hide. I can't stay here. It's the first place Zora +will come to. She mustn't find me. Edith has been through it +herself. She would have taken me somewhere abroad or in the country +where I could have stayed in hiding till it was over. It was all so +sudden—the news of his marriage. I was half crazy, I couldn't +make plans. I thought Edith would help me. Now she has gone, +goodness knows where. My God, what shall I do?"</p> +<p>She went on, looking at him haggardly, a creature driven beyond +the reticence of sex, telling her inmost secret to a man as if it +were a commonplace of trouble. It did not occur to her distraught +mind that he was a man. She spoke to herself, without thought, +uttering the cry for help that had been pent within her all that +awful night.</p> +<p>The puzzledom of Septimus grew unbearable in its intensity; then +suddenly it burst like a skyrocket and a blinding rain of fire +enveloped him. He stood paralyzed with pain and horror.</p> +<p>The sullen morning light diffused itself through the room, +mingling ironically with the pretty glow cast by the pink-shaded +electric globes, while the two forlorn grotesques regarded each +other, unconscious of each other's grotesque<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span>ness, +the girl disheveled and haggard, the man with rough gray coat +unbuttoned, showing the rumpled evening dress; her toque miserably +awry, his black tie riding above his collar, the bow somewhere +behind his ear. And the tragedy of tragedies of a young girl's life +was unfolded.</p> +<p>"My God, what am I to do?"</p> +<p>Septimus stared at her, his hands in his trousers pockets. In +one of them his fingers grasped a folded bit of paper. He drew it +out unthinkingly—a very dirty bit of paper. In his +absent-minded way he threw it towards the fire, but it fell on the +tiled hearth. In moments of great strain the mind seizes with +pitiful eagerness on the trivial. Emmy looked at the paper. +Something familiar about its shape struck her. She leaned forward, +picked it up and unfolded it.</p> +<p>"This is a check," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Did you +mean to throw it away?"</p> +<p>He took it from her and, looking at it, realized that It was +Clem Sypher's check for two hundred pounds.</p> +<p>"Thanks," said he, thrusting it into his overcoat pocket.</p> +<p>Then his queerly working brain focused associations.</p> +<p>"I know what we can do," said he. "We can go to Naples."</p> +<p>"What good would that be?" she asked, treating the preposterous +question seriously.</p> +<p>He was taken aback by her directness, and passed his fingers +through his hair.</p> +<p>"I don't know," said he.</p> +<p>"The first thing we must do," said Emmy—and her voice +sounded in her own ears like someone else's—"is to get away +from here. Zora will be down by the first train after my absence is +discovered. You quite see that Zora mustn't find me, don't +you?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id= +"Page_127"></a>[127]</span>Of course," said Septimus, blankly. Then +he brightened. "You can go to an hotel. A Temperance Hotel in +Bloomsbury. Wiggleswick was telling me about one the other day. A +friend of his burgled it and got six years. A man called +Barkus."</p> +<p>"But what was the name of the hotel?"</p> +<p>"Ah! that I forget," said Septimus. "It had something to do with +Sir Walter Scott. Let me see. Lockhart—no, Lockhart's is a +different place. It was either the Bride of Lammermoor +or—yes," he cried triumphantly, "it was the Ravenswood, in +Southampton Row."</p> +<p>Emmy rose. The switch off onto the trivial piece of paper had +braced her unstrung nerves for a final effort: that, and the terror +of meeting Zora.</p> +<p>"You'll take me there. I'll just put some things together."</p> +<p>He opened the door for her to pass out. On the threshold she +turned.</p> +<p>"I believe God sent you to Nunsmere Common last night."</p> +<p>She left him, and he went back to the fire and filled and lit +his pipe. Her words touched him. They also struck a chord of +memory. His ever-wandering mind went back to a scene in +undergraduate days. It was the Corn Exchange at Cambridge, where +the most famous of all American evangelists was holding one of a +series of revivalist meetings. The great bare hall was packed with +youths, who came, some to scoff and others to pray. The +coarse-figured, bald-headed, brown-bearded man in black on the +platform, with his homely phrase and (to polite undergraduate ears) +terrible Yankee twang, was talking vehemently of the trivial +instruments the Almighty used to effect His purposes. Moses's rod, +for instance. "You can imagine<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> Pharaoh," said +he—and the echo of the great voice came to Septimus through +the years—"you can imagine Pharaoh walking down the street +one day and seeing Moses with a great big stick in his hand. +'Hallo, Moses,' says he, 'where are you going?' 'Where am I going?' +says Moses. 'I guess I'm going to deliver the Children of Israel +out of the House of Bondage and conduct them to a land flowing with +milk and honey.' 'And how are you going to do it, Moses?' '<i>With +this rod, sir, with this rod!</i>'"</p> +<p>Septimus remembered how this bit of unauthenticated history was +greeted with derision by the general, and with a shocked sense of +propriety by the cultivated—and young men at the university +can be very cultivated indeed on occasion. But the truth the great +preacher intended to convey had lingered at the back of his own +mind and now came out into the light. Perhaps Emmy had spoken more +truly than she thought. In his simple heart he realized himself to +be the least effectual of men, apparently as unhelpful towards a +great deliverance as the walking stick used by Moses. But if God +had sent him to Nunsmere Common and destined him to be the mean +instrument of Emmy's deliverance? He rubbed the warm pipe bowl +against his cheek and excogitated the matter in deep humility. Yes, +perhaps God had sent him. His religious belief was nebulous, but up +to its degree of clarity it was sincere.</p> +<p>A few minutes later they were again in the cab jogging wearily +across London to Southampton Row; and the little empty drawing-room +with all its vanities looked somewhat ghostly, lit as it was by the +day and by the frivolously shaded electric light which they had +forgotten to switch off.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span>CHAPTER +X</h2> +<p>When Septimus had seen Emmy admitted to the Ravenswood Hotel, he +stood on the gloomy pavement outside wondering what he should do. +Then it occurred to him that he belonged to a club—a grave, +decorous place where the gay pop of a champagne cork had been known +to produce a scandalized silence in the luncheon-room, and where +serious-minded members congregated to scowl at one another's +unworthiness from behind newspapers. A hansom conveyed him thither. +In the hall he struggled over two telegrams which had caused him +most complicated thought during his drive. The problem was to ease +Zora's mind and to obtain a change of raiment without disclosing +the whereabouts of either Emmy or himself. This he had found no +easy matter, diplomacy being the art of speaking the truth with +intent to deceive, and so finely separated from sheer lying as to +cause grave distress to Septimus's candid soul. At last, after much +wasting of telegraph forms, he decided on the following:</p> +<p>To Zora: "Emmy safe in London. So am I. Don't worry. Devotedly, +Septimus."</p> +<p>To Wiggleswick: "Bring clothes and railway carriage diagrams +secretly to Club."</p> +<p>Having dispatched these, he went into the coffee-room and +ordered breakfast. The waiters served him in horrified silence. A +gaunt member, breakfasting a few tables off, asked for the name of +the debauchee, and resolved to write to the Committee. Never in the +club's history had a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id= +"Page_130"></a>[130]</span> member breakfasted in dress +clothes—and in such disreputably disheveled dress clothes! +Such dissolute mohocks were a stumbling-block and an offense, and +the gaunt member, who had prided himself on going by clockwork all +his life, felt his machinery in some way dislocated by the +spectacle. But Septimus ate his food unconcernedly, and afterwards, +mounting to the library, threw himself into a chair before the fire +and slept the sleep of the depraved till Wiggleswick arrived with +his clothes. Then, having effected an outward semblance of decency, +he went to the Ravenswood Hotel. Wiggleswick he sent back to +Nunsmere.</p> +<p>Emmy entered the prim drawing-room where he had been waiting for +her, the picture of pretty flower-like misery, her delicate cheeks +white, a hunted look in her baby eyes. A great pang of pity went +through the man, hurting him physically. She gave him a limp hand, +and sat down on a saddle-bag sofa, while he stood hesitatingly +before her, balancing himself first on one leg and then on the +other.</p> +<p>"Have you had anything to eat?"</p> +<p>Emmy nodded.</p> +<p>"Have you slept?"</p> +<p>"That's a thing I shall never do again," she said querulously. +"How can you ask?"</p> +<p>"If you don't sleep, you'll get ill and die," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"So much the better," she replied.</p> +<p>"I wish I could help you. I do wish I could help you."</p> +<p>"No one can help me. Least of all you. What could a man do in +any case? And, as for you, my poor Septimus, you want as much +taking care of as I do."</p> +<p>The depreciatory tone did not sting him as it would have done +another man, for he knew his incapacity. He had also gone through +the memory of Moses's rod the night before.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id= +"Page_131"></a>[131]</span>I wonder whether Wiggleswick could be of +any use?" he said, more brightly.</p> +<p>Emmy laughed dismally. Wiggleswick! To no other mind but +Septimus's could such a suggestion present itself.</p> +<p>"Then what's to be done?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said Emmy.</p> +<p>They looked at each other blankly, two children face to face +with one of the most terrible of modern social problems, aghast at +their powerlessness to grapple with it. It is a situation which +wrings the souls of the strong with an agony worse than death. It +crushes the weak, or drives them mad, and often brings them, +fragile wisps of human semblance, into the criminal dock. Shame, +disgrace, social pariahdom; unutterable pain to dear ones; an +ever-gaping wound in fierce family pride; a stain on two +generations; an incurable malady of a once blithe spirit; woe, +disaster, and ruin—such is the punishment awarded by men and +women to her who disobeys the social law and, perhaps with equal +lack of volition, obeys the law physiological. The latter is +generally considered the greater crime.</p> +<p>These things passed through Septimus's mind. His ignorance of +the ways of what is, after all, an indifferent, self-centered world +exaggerated them.</p> +<p>"You know what it means?" he said tonelessly.</p> +<p>"If I didn't, should I be here?"</p> +<p>He made one last effort to persuade her to take Zora into her +confidence. His nature abhorred deceit, to say nothing of the High +Treason he was committing; a rudiment of common sense also told him +that Zora was Emmy's natural helper and protector. But Emmy had the +obstinacy of a weak nature. She would die rather than Zora +should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id= +"Page_132"></a>[132]</span> know. Zora would never understand, +would never forgive her. The disgrace would kill her mother.</p> +<p>"If you love Zora, as you say you do, you would want to save her +pain," said Emmy finally.</p> +<p>So Septimus was convinced. But once more, what was to be +done?</p> +<p>"You had better go away, my poor Septimus," she said, bending +forward listlessly, her hands in her lap. "You see you're not a bit +of use now. If you had been a different sort of man—like +anyone else—one who could have helped me—I shouldn't +have told you anything about it. I'll send for my old dresser at +the theater. I must have a woman, you see. So you had better go +away."</p> +<p>Septimus walked up and down the room deep in thought. A +spinster-looking lady in a cheap blouse and skirt, an inmate of the +caravanserai, put her head through the door and, with a +disapproving sniff at the occupants, retired. At length Septimus +broke the silence:</p> +<p>"You said last night that you believed God sent me to you. I +believe so too. So I'm not going to leave you."</p> +<p>"But what can you do?" asked Emmy, ending the sentence on a +hysterical note which brought tears and a fit of sobbing. She +buried her head in her arms on the sofa-end, and her young +shoulders shook convulsively. She was an odd mixture of bravado and +baby helplessness. To leave her to fight her terrible battle with +the aid only of a theater dresser was an impossibility. Septimus +looked at her with mournful eyes, hating his futility. Of what use +was he to any God-created being? Another man, strong and capable, +any vital, deep-chested fellow that was passing along Southampton +Row at that moment, would have known how to take her cares on his +broad shoulders and ordain, with<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_133" id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> kind imperiousness, a +course of action. But he—he could only clutch his fingers +nervously and shuffle with his feet, which of itself must irritate +a woman with nerves on edge. He could do nothing. He could suggest +nothing save that he should follow her about like a sympathetic +spaniel. It was maddening. He walked to the window and looked out +into the unexhilarating street, all that was man in him in revolt +against his ineffectuality.</p> +<p>Suddenly came the flash of inspiration, swift, illuminating, +such as happened sometimes when the idea of a world-upsetting +invention burst upon him with bewildering clearness; but this time +more radiant, more intense than he had ever known before; it was +almost an ecstasy. He passed both hands feverishly through his hair +till it could stand no higher.</p> +<p>"I have it!" he cried; and Archimedes could not have uttered his +famous word with a greater thrill.</p> +<p>"Emmy, I have it!"</p> +<p>He stood before her gibbering with inspiration. At his cry she +raised a tear-stained face and regarded him amazedly.</p> +<p>"You have what?"</p> +<p>"The solution. It is so simple, so easy. Why shouldn't we have +run away together?"</p> +<p>"We did," said Emmy.</p> +<p>"But really—to get married."</p> +<p>"Married?"</p> +<p>She started bolt upright on the sofa, the feminine ever on the +defensive.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Septimus quickly. "Don't you see? If you will go +through the form of marriage with me—oh, just the form, you +know—and we both disappear abroad<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> +somewhere for a year—I in one place and you in another, if +you like—then we can come back to Zora, nominally married, +and—and—"</p> +<p>"And what?" asked Emmy, stonily.</p> +<p>"And then you can say you can't live with me any longer. You +couldn't stand me. I don't think any woman could. Only Wiggleswick +could put up with my ways."</p> +<p>Emmy passed her hands across her eyes. She was somewhat +dazed.</p> +<p>"You would give me your name—and shield me—just like +that!" Her voice quavered.</p> +<p>"It isn't much to give. It's so short," he remarked absently. +"I've always thought it such a silly name."</p> +<p>"You would tie yourself for life to a girl who has disgraced +herself, just for the sake of shielding her?"</p> +<p>"Why, it's done every day," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"Is it? Oh, God! You poor innocent!" and she broke down +again.</p> +<p>"There, there," said Septimus kindly, patting her shoulder. +"It's all settled, isn't it? We can get married by special +license—quite soon. I've read of it in books. Perhaps the +Hall Porter can tell me where to get one. Hall Porters know +everything. Then we can write to Zora and tell her it was a runaway +match. It's the easiest thing in the world. I'll go and see after +it now."</p> +<p>He left her prostrate on the sofa, her heart stone cold, her +body lapped in flame from feet to hair. It was not given to him to +know her agony of humiliation, her agony of temptation. He had but +followed the message which his simple faith took to be divine. The +trivial name of Dix would be the instrument wherewith the +deliverance of Emmy from the House of Bondage should be effected. +He went out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id= +"Page_135"></a>[135]</span> cheerily, stared for a moment at the +Hall Porter, vaguely associating him with the matter in hand, but +forgetting exactly why, and strode into the street, feeling greatly +uplifted. The broad-shouldered men who jostled him as he pursued +his absent-minded and therefore devious course no longer appeared +potential champions to be greatly envied. He felt that he was one +of them, and blessed them as they jostled him, taking their rough +manners as a sign of kinship. The life of Holborn swallowed him. He +felt glad who once hated the dismaying bustle. His heart sang for +joy. Something had been given him to do for the sake of the woman +he loved. What more can a man do than lay down his life for a +friend? Perhaps he can do a little more for a loved woman: marry +somebody else.</p> +<p>Deep down in his heart he loved Zora. Deep down in his heart, +too, dwelt the idiot hope that the miracle of miracles might one +day happen. He loved the hope with a mother's passionate love for a +deformed and imbecile child, knowing it unfit to live among the +other healthy hopes of his conceiving. At any rate, he was free to +bring her his daily tale of worship, to glean a look of kindness +from her clear eyes. This was his happiness. For her sake he would +sacrifice it. For Zora's sake he would marry Emmy. The heart of +Septimus was that of a Knight-Errant confident in the righteousness +of his quest. The certainty had come all at once in the flash of +inspiration. Besides, was he not carrying out Zora's wish? He +remembered her words. It would be the greatest pleasure he could +give her—to become her brother, her real brother. She would +approve. And beyond all that, deep down also in his heart he knew +it was the only way, the wise, simple, Heaven-directed way.</p> +<p>The practical, broad-shouldered, common-sense +children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id= +"Page_136"></a>[136]</span> of this world would have weighed many +things one against the other. They would have taken into account +sentimentally, morally, pharisaically, or cynically, according to +their various attitudes towards life, the relations between Emmy +and Mordaunt Prince which had led to this tragic situation. But for +Septimus her sin scarcely existed. When a man is touched by an +angel's feather he takes an angel's view of mortal frailties.</p> +<p>He danced his jostled way up Holborn till the City Temple loomed +through the brown air. It struck a chord of association. He halted +on the edge of the curb and regarded it across the road, with a +forefinger held up before his nose as if to assist memory. It was a +church. People were apt to be married in churches. Sometimes by +special license. That was it! A special license. He had come out to +get one. But where were they to be obtained? In a properly +civilized country, doubtless they would be sold in shops, like +boots and hair-brushes, or even in post-offices, like dog licenses. +But Septimus, aware of the deficiencies of an incomplete social +organization, could do no better than look wistfully up and down +the stream of traffic, as it roared and flashed and lumbered past. +A policeman stopped beside him. He appeared so lost, he met the +man's eyes with a gaze so questioning, that the policeman +paused.</p> +<p>"Want to go anywhere, sir?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Septimus. "I want to go where I can get a special +license to be married."</p> +<p>"Don't you know?"</p> +<p>"No. You see," said Septimus confidentially, "marriage has been +out of my line. But perhaps you have been married, and might be +able to tell me."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id= +"Page_137"></a>[137]</span>Look here, sir," said the policeman, +eyeing him kindly, but officially. "Take my advice, sir; don't +think of getting married. You go home to your friends."</p> +<p>The policeman nodded knowingly and stalked away, leaving +Septimus perplexed by his utterance. Was he a Socrates of a +constable with a Xantippe at home, or did he regard him as a mild +lunatic at large? Either solution was discouraging. He turned and +walked back down Holborn somewhat dejected. Somewhere in London the +air was thick with special licenses, but who would direct his steps +to the desired spot? On passing Gray's Inn one of his brilliant +ideas occurred to him. The Inn suggested law; the law, solicitors, +who knew even more about licenses than Hall Porters and Policemen. +A man he once knew had left him one day after lunch to consult his +solicitors in Gray's Inn. He entered the low, gloomy gateway and +accosted the porter.</p> +<p>"Are there any solicitors living in the Inn?"</p> +<p>"Not so many as there was. They're mostly architects. But still +there's heaps."</p> +<p>"Will you kindly direct me to one?"</p> +<p>The man gave him two or three addresses, and he went comforted +across the square to the east wing, whose Georgian mass merged +without skyline into the fuliginous vapor which Londoners call the +sky. The lights behind the blindless windows illuminated interiors +and showed men bending over desks and drawing-boards, some near the +windows with their faces sharply cut in profile. Septimus wondered +vaguely whether any one of those visible would be his +solicitor.</p> +<p>A member of the first firm he sought happened to be disengaged, +a benevolent young man wearing gold spectacles,<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> who +received his request for guidance with sympathetic interest and +unfolded to him the divers methods whereby British subjects could +get married all over the world, including the High Seas on board +one of His Majesty's ships of the Mercantile Marine. Solicitors are +generally bursting with irrelevant information. When, however, he +elicited the fact that one of the parties had a flat in London +which would technically prove the fifteen days' residence, he +opened his eyes.</p> +<p>"But, my dear sir, unless you are bent on a religious ceremony, +why not get married at once before the registrar of the Chelsea +district? There are two ways of getting married before the +registrar—one by certificate and one by license. By license +you can get married after the expiration of one whole day next +after the day of the entry of the notice of marriage. That is to +say, if you give notice to-morrow you can get married not the next +day, but the day after. In this way you save the heavy special +license fee. How does it strike you?"</p> +<p>It struck Septimus as a remarkable suggestion, and he admired +the lawyer exceedingly.</p> +<p>"I suppose it's really a good and proper marriage?" he +asked.</p> +<p>The benevolent young man reassured him; it would take all the +majesty of the Probate, Divorce and Admiralty division of the High +Court of Justice to dissolve it. Septimus agreed that in these +circumstances it must be a capital marriage. Then the solicitor +offered to see the whole matter through and get him married in the +course of a day or two. After which he dismissed him with a +professional blessing which cheered Septimus all the way to the +Ravenswood Hotel.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span>CHAPTER +XI</h2> +<p>"Good heavens, mother, they're married!" cried Zora, staring at +a telegram she had just received.</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldrieve woke with a start from her after-luncheon nap.</p> +<p>"Who, dear?"</p> +<p>"Why, Emmy and Septimus Dix. Read it."</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldrieve put on her glasses with faltering fingers, and +read aloud the words as if they had been in a foreign language: +"Septimus and I were married this morning at the Chelsea +Registrar's. We start for Paris by the 2.30. Will let you know our +plans. Love to mother from us both. Emmy."</p> +<p>"What does this mean, dear?"</p> +<p>"It means, my dear mother, that they're married," said Zora; +"but why they should have thought it necessary to run away to do it +in this hole-and-corner fashion I can't imagine."</p> +<p>"It's very terrible," said Mrs. Oldrieve.</p> +<p>"It's worse than terrible. It's idiotic," said Zora.</p> +<p>She was mystified, and being a woman who hated mystification, +was angry. Her mother began to cry. It was a disgraceful thing; +before a registrar, too.</p> +<p>"As soon as I let her go on the stage, I knew something dreadful +would happen to her," she wailed. "Of course Mr. Dix is foolish and +eccentric, but I never thought he could do anything so +irregular."</p> +<p>"I have no patience with him!" cried Zora. "I told<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> him +only a short while ago that both of us would be delighted if he +married Emmy."</p> +<p>"They must come back, dear, and be married properly. Do make +them," urged Mrs. Oldrieve. "The Vicar will be so shocked and +hurt—and what Cousin Jane will say when she hears of +it—"</p> +<p>She raised her mittened hands and let them fall into her lap. +The awfulness of Cousin Jane's indignation transcended the poor +lady's powers of description. Zora dismissed the Vicar and Cousin +Jane as persons of no account. The silly pair were legally married, +and she would see that there was a proper notice put in <i>The +Times</i>. As for bringing them back—she looked at the +clock.</p> +<p>"They are on their way now to Folkestone."</p> +<p>"It wouldn't be any good telegraphing them to come back and be +properly married in church?"</p> +<p>"Not the slightest," said Zora; "but I'll do it if you +like."</p> +<p>So the telegram was dispatched to "Septimus Dix, Boulogne Boat, +Folkestone," and Mrs. Oldrieve took a brighter view of the +situation.</p> +<p>"We have done what we can, at any rate," she said by way of +self-consolation.</p> +<p>Now it so happened that Emmy, like many another person at their +wits' end, had given herself an amazing amount of unnecessary +trouble. Her flight had not been noticed till the maid had entered +her room at half-past eight. She had obviously packed up some +things in a handbag. Obviously again she had caught the +eight-fifteen train from Ripstead, as she had done once or twice +before when rehearsals or other theatrical business had required an +early arrival in London. Septimus's telegram had not +only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id= +"Page_141"></a>[141]</span> allayed no apprehension, but it had +aroused a mild curiosity. Septimus was master of his own actions. +His going up to London was no one's concern. If he were starting +for the Equator a telegram would have been a courtesy. But why +announce his arrival in London? Why couple it with Emmy's? And why +in the name of guns and musical comedies should Zora worry? But +when she reflected that Septimus did nothing according to the +orthodox ways of men, she attributed the superfluous message to his +general infirmity of character, smiled indulgently, and dismissed +the matter from her mind. Mrs. Oldrieve had nothing to dismiss, as +she had been led to believe that Emmy had gone up to London by the +morning train. She only bewailed the flighty inconsequence of +modern young women, until she reflected that Emmy's father had gone +and come with disconcerting unexpectedness from the day of their +wedding to that of his death on the horns of a buffalo; whereupon +she fatalistically attributed her daughter's ways to heredity. So +while the two incapables were sedulously covering up their tracks, +the most placid indifference as to their whereabouts reigned in +Nunsmere.</p> +<p>The telegram, therefore, announcing their marriage found Zora +entirely unprepared for the news it contained. What a pitiful +tragedy lay behind the words she was a million miles from +suspecting. She walked with her head above such clouds, her eyes on +the stars, taking little heed of the happenings around her +feet—and, if the truth is to be known, finding mighty little +instruction or entertainment in the firmament. The elopement, for +it was nothing more, brought her eyes, however, earthwards. "Why?" +she asked, not realizing it to be the most futile of questions when +applied to human actions. To every such "Why?"<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> there +are a myriad answers. When a mysterious murder is committed, +everyone seeks the motive. Unless circumstance unquestionably +provides the key of the enigma, who can tell? It may be revenge for +the foulest of wrongs. It may be that the assassin objected to the +wart on the other man's nose—and there are men to whom a wart +is a Pelion of rank offense, and who believe themselves +heaven-appointed to cut it off. It may be for worldly gain. It may +be merely for amusement. There is nothing so outrageous, so +grotesque, which, if the human brain has conceived it, the human +hand has not done. Many a man has taken a cab, on a sudden shower, +merely to avoid the trouble of unrolling his umbrella, and the +sanest of women has been known to cheat a 'bus conductor of a +penny, so as to wallow in the gratification of a crossing-sweeper's +blessing. When the philosopher asks the Everlasting Why, he knows, +if he be a sound philosopher—and a sound philosopher is he +who is not led into the grievous error of taking his philosophy +seriously—that the question is but the starting point of the +entertaining game of Speculation.</p> +<p>To this effect spake the Literary Man from London, when next he +met Zora. Nunsmere was in a swarm of excitement and the alien bee +had, perforce, to buzz with the rest.</p> +<p>"The interesting thing is," said he, "that the thing has +happened. That while the inhabitants of this smug village kept one +dull eye on the decalogue and another on their neighbors, Romance +on its rosy pinions was hovering over it. Two people have gone the +right old way of man and maid. They have defied the paralyzing +conventions of the engagement. Oh! the unutterable, humiliating, +deadening period! When each young person has to pass the +in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id= +"Page_143"></a>[143]</span>spection of the other's relations. When +simpering friends maddeningly leave them alone in drawing-rooms and +conservatories so that they can hold each other's hands. When they +are on probation <i>coram publico</i>. Our friends have defied all +this. They have defied the orange blossoms, the rice, the wedding +presents, the unpleasant public affidavits, the whole indecent +paraphernalia of an orthodox wedding—the bridal veil—a +survival from the barbaric days when a woman was bought and paid +for and a man didn't know what he had got until he had married her +and taken her home—the senseless new clothes which brand them +immodestly wherever they go. Two people have had the courage to +avoid all this, to treat marriage as if it really concerned +themselves and not Tom, Dick, and Harry. They've done it. Why, +doesn't matter. All honor to them."</p> +<p>He waved his stick in the air—they had met on the +common—and the lame donkey, who had strayed companionably +near them, took to his heels in fright.</p> +<p>"Even the donkey," said Zora, "Mr. Dix's most intimate friend, +doesn't agree with you."</p> +<p>"The ass will agree with the sage only in the millennium," said +Rattenden.</p> +<p>But Zora was not satisfied with the professional philosopher's +presentation of the affair. She sought Wiggleswick, whom she found +before a blazing fire in the sitting-room, his feet on the +mantelpiece, smoking a Havana cigar. On her approach he wriggled to +attention, and extinguishing the cigar by means of saliva and a +horny thumb and forefinger, put the stump into his pocket.</p> +<p>"Good morning, Wiggleswick," said Zora cheerfully.</p> +<p>"Good morning, ma'am," said Wiggleswick.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id= +"Page_144"></a>[144]</span>You seem to be having a good time."</p> +<p>Wiggleswick gave her to understand that, thanks to his master's +angelic disposition and his own worthiness, he always had a good +time.</p> +<p>"Now that he's married there will have to be a few changes in +household arrangements," said Zora.</p> +<p>"What changes?"</p> +<p>"There will be a cook and parlor maid and regular hours, and a +mistress to look after things."</p> +<p>Wiggleswick put his cunning gray head on one side.</p> +<p>"I'm sure they'll make me very comfortable, ma'am. If they do +the work, I won't raise no manner of objection."</p> +<p>Zora, regarding the egoist with mingled admiration and +vexedness, could only say, "Oh!"</p> +<p>"I never raised no objection to his marriage from the first," +said Wiggleswick.</p> +<p>"Did he consult you about it?"</p> +<p>"Of course he did," he replied with an indulgent smile, while +the light of sportive fancy gleamed behind his blear eyes. "He +looks on me as a father, he does, ma'am. 'Wiggleswick,' says he, +'I'm going to be married.' 'I'm delighted to hear it, sir,' says I. +'A man needs a woman's 'and about him,' says I."</p> +<p>"When did he tell you this?"</p> +<p>Wiggleswick searched his inventive memory.</p> +<p>"About a fortnight ago. 'If I may be so bold, sir, who is the +young lady?' I asks. 'It's Miss Emily Oldrieve,' says he, and I +said, 'A nicer, brighter, prettier bit of goods'—I beg your +pardon, ma'am—'young lady, you couldn't pick up between here +and Houndsditch.' I did say that, ma'am, I tell you straight." He +looked at her keenly to see whether this expression of loyal +admiration of his new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id= +"Page_145"></a>[145]</span> mistress had taken effect, and then +continued. "And then he says to me, 'Wiggleswick, there ain't going +to be no grand wedding. You know me.'—And I does, ma'am. The +outlandish things he does, ma'am, would shock an +alligator.—'I should forget the day,' says he. 'I should lose +the ring. I should marry the wrong party. I should forget to kiss +the bridesmaids. Lord knows what I shouldn't do. So we're going up +to London to be married on the Q.T., and don't you say nothing to +nobody."</p> +<p>"So you've been in this conspiracy for a fortnight," said Zora +severely, "and you never thought it your duty to stop him doing so +foolish a thing?"</p> +<p>"As getting married, ma'am?"</p> +<p>"No. Such a silly thing as running away."</p> +<p>"Of course I did, ma'am," said Wiggleswick, who went on +mendaciously to explain that he had used every means in his power +to prevail on his master to submit to the orthodox ceremony for the +sake of the family.</p> +<p>"Then you might have given me a hint as to what was going +on."</p> +<p>Wiggleswick assumed a shocked expression. "And disobey my +master? Orders is orders, ma'am. I once wore the Queen's +uniform."</p> +<p>Zora, sitting on the arm of a chair, half steadying herself with +her umbrella, regarded the old man standing respectfully at +attention before her with a smile whose quizzicality she could not +restrain. The old villain drew himself up in a dignified way.</p> +<p>"I don't mean the government uniform, ma'am. I've had my +misfortunes like anyone else. I was once in the army—in the +band."</p> +<p>"Mr. Dix told me that you had been in the band," +said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id= +"Page_146"></a>[146]</span> Zora with all her graciousness, so as +to atone for the smile. "You played that instrument in the +corner."</p> +<p>"I did, ma'am," said Wiggleswick.</p> +<p>Zora looked down at the point of her umbrella on the floor. +Having no reason to disbelieve Wiggleswick's circumstantial though +entirely fictitious story, and having by the smile put herself at a +disadvantage, she felt uncomfortably routed.</p> +<p>"Your master never told you where he was going or how long he +was likely to be away?" she asked.</p> +<p>"My master, ma'am," replied Wiggleswick, "never knows where he +is going. That's why he wants a wife who can tell him."</p> +<p>Zora rose and looked around her. Then, with a sweep of her +umbrella indicating the general dustiness and untidiness of the +room:</p> +<p>"The best thing you can do," said she, "is to have the house +thoroughly cleaned and put in order. They may be back any day. I'll +send in a charwoman to help you."</p> +<p>"Thank you, ma'am," said Wiggleswick, somewhat glumly. Although +he had lied volubly to her for his own ends, he stood in awe of her +commanding personality, and never dreamed of disregarding her high +behests. But he had a moral disapproval of work. He could see no +nobility in it, having done so much enforced labour in his +time.</p> +<p>"Do you think we need begin now, ma'am?" he asked anxiously.</p> +<p>"At once," said Zora. "It will take you a month to clean the +place. And it will give you something to do."</p> +<p>She went away femininely consoled by her exercise of +authority—a minor victory covering a retreat. But she still +felt very angry with Septimus.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id= +"Page_147"></a>[147]</span>When Clem Sypher came down to Penton +Court for the week-end, he treated the matter lightly.</p> +<p>"He knew that he was acceptable to your mother and yourself, so +he has done nothing dishonorable. All he wanted was your sister and +the absence of fuss. I think it sporting of him. I do, truly."</p> +<p>"And I think you're detestable!" cried Zora. "There's not a +single man that can understand."</p> +<p>"What do you want me to understand?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said Zora, "but you ought to understand it."</p> +<p>A day or two later, meeting Rattenden again, she found that he +comprehended her too fully.</p> +<p>"What would have pleased you," said he, "would have been to play +the <i>soeur noble</i>, to have gathered the young couple in your +embrace, and magnanimously given them to each other, and smiled on +the happiness of which you had been the bounteous dispenser. +They've cheated you. They've cut your part clean out of the comedy, +and you don't like it. If I'm not right will you kindly order me +out of the room? Well?" he asked, after a pause, during which she +hung her head.</p> +<p>"Oh, you can stay," she said with a half-laugh. "You're the kind +of man that always bets on a certainty."</p> +<p>Rattenden was right. She was jealous of Emmy for having +unceremoniously stolen her slave from her service—that Emmy +had planned the whole conspiracy she had not the slightest +doubt—and she was angry with Septimus for having been weak +enough to lend himself to such duplicity. Even when he wrote her a +dutiful letter from Paris—to the telegram he had merely +replied, "Sorry; impossible"—full of everything save Emmy and +their plans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id= +"Page_148"></a>[148]</span> for the future, she did not forgive +him. How dared he consider himself fit to travel by himself? His +own servant qualified his doings as outlandish.</p> +<p>"They'll make a terrible mess of their honeymoon," she said to +Clem Sypher. "They'll start for Rome and find themselves in St. +Petersburg."</p> +<p>"They'll be just as happy," said Sypher. "If I was on my +honeymoon, do you think I'd care where I went?"</p> +<p>"Well, I wash my hands of them," said Zora with a sigh, as if +bereft of dear responsibilities. "No doubt they're happy in their +own way."</p> +<p>And that, for a long time, was the end of the matter. The house, +cleaned and polished, glittered like the instrument room of a +man-of-war, and no master or mistress came to bestow on +Wiggleswick's toil the meed of their approbation. The old man +settled down again to well-earned repose, and the house grew dusty +and dingy again, and dustier and dingier as the weeks went on.</p> +<p>It has been before stated that things happen slowly in Nunsmere, +even the reawakening of Zora's nostalgia for the Great World and +Life and the Secrets of the Earth. But things do happen there +eventually, and the time came when Zora found herself once again +too big for the little house. She missed Emmy's periodical visits. +She missed the regulation of Septimus. She missed her little motor +expeditions with Sypher, who had sold his car and was about to sell +"The Kurhaus, Kilburn Priory." The Cure seemed to have transformed +itself from his heart to his nerves. He talked of it—or so it +appeared to her—with more braggadocio than enthusiasm. He +could converse of little else. It was going to smash Jebusa Jones's +Cuticle Remedy to the shreds of its ointment boxes. The +deepen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id= +"Page_149"></a>[149]</span>ing vertical line between the man's +brows she did not notice, nor did she interpret the wistful look in +his eyes when he claimed her help. She was tired of the Cure and +the Remedy and Sypher's fantastic need of her as ally. She wanted +Life, real, quivering human Life. It was certainly not to be found +in Nunsmere, where faded lives were laid away in lavender. For +sheer sensations she began to tolerate the cynical analysis of the +Literary Man from London. She must go forth on her journeyings +again. She had already toyed with the idea when, with Septimus's +aid, she had mapped out voyages round the world. Now she must +follow it in strenuous earnest. The Callenders had cabled her an +invitation to come out at once to Los Angeles. She cabled back an +acceptance.</p> +<p>"So you're going away from me?" said Sypher, when she announced +her departure.</p> +<p>There was a hint of reproach in his voice which she +resented.</p> +<p>"You told me in Monte Carlo that I ought to have a mission in +life. I can't find it here, so I'm going to seek one in California. +What happens in this Sleepy Hollow of a place that a live woman can +concern herself with?"</p> +<p>"There's Sypher's Cure—"</p> +<p>"My dear Mr. Sypher!" she laughed protestingly.</p> +<p>"Oh," said he, "you are helping it on more than you imagine. I'm +going through a rough time, but with you behind me, as I told you +before, I know I shall win. If I turn my head round, when I'm +sitting at my desk, I have a kind of fleeting vision of you +hovering over my chair. It puts heart and soul into me, and gives +me courage to make desperate ventures."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id= +"Page_150"></a>[150]</span>As I'm only there in the spirit, it +doesn't matter whether the bodily I is in Nunsmere or Los +Angeles."</p> +<p>"How can I tell?" said he, with one of his swift, clear glances. +"I meet you in the body every week and carry back your spirit with +me. Zora Middlemist," he added abruptly, after a pause, "I implore +you not to leave me."</p> +<p>He leaned his arm on the mantelpiece from which Septimus had +knocked the little china dog, and looked down earnestly at her, as +she sat on the chintz-covered sofa behind the tea-table. At her +back was the long casement window, and the last gleams of the +wintry sun caught her hair. To the man's visionary fancy they +formed an aureole.</p> +<p>"Don't go, Zora."</p> +<p>She was silent for a long, long time, as if held by the spell of +the man's pleading. Her face softened adorably and a tenderness +came into the eyes which he could not see. A mysterious power +seemed to be lifting her towards him. It was a new sensation, +pleasurable, like floating down a stream with the water murmuring +in her ears. Then, suddenly, as if startled to vivid consciousness +out of a dream, she awakened, furiously indignant.</p> +<p>"Why shouldn't I go? Tell me once and for all, why?"</p> +<p>She expected what any woman alive might have expected save the +chosen few who have the great gift of reading the souls of the poet +and the visionary; and Clem Sypher, in his way, was both. She +braced her nerves to hear the expected. But the poet and the +visionary spoke.</p> +<p>It was the old story of the Cure, his divine mission to spread +the healing unguent over the suffering earth. Voices had come to +him as they had come to the girl at Domrémy, and they had +told him that through Zora Middlemist, and no other, was his life's +mission to be accomplished.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id= +"Page_151"></a>[151]</span>To her it was anticlimax. Reaction +forced a laugh against her will. She leaned back among the sofa +cushions.</p> +<p>"Is that all?" she said, and Sypher did not catch the +significance of the words. "You seem to forget that the rôle +of Mascotte is not a particularly active one. It's all very well +for you, but I have to sit at home and twirl my thumbs. Have you +ever tried that by way of soul-satisfying occupation? Don't you +think you're just a bit—egotistical?"</p> +<p>He relaxed the tension of his attitude with a sigh, thrust his +hands into his pockets and sat down.</p> +<p>"I suppose I am. When a man wants something with all the +strength of his being and thinks of nothing else day or night, he +develops a colossal selfishness. It's a form of madness, I suppose. +There was a man called Bernard Palissy who had it, and made +everybody sacrifice themselves to his idea. I've no right to ask +you to sacrifice yourself to mine."</p> +<p>"You have the right of friendship," said Zora, "to claim my +interest in your hopes and fears, and that I've given you and shall +always give you. But beyond that, as you say, you have no +right."</p> +<p>He rose, with a laugh. "I know. It's as logical as a proposition +of Euclid. But all the same I feel I have a higher right, beyond +any logic. There are all kinds of phenomena in life which have +nothing whatsoever to do with reason. You have convinced my reason +that I'm an egotistical dreamer. But nothing you can do or say will +ever remove the craving for you that I have here "—and he +thumped his big chest—"like hunger."</p> +<p>When he had gone Zora thought over the scene with more +disturbance of mind than she appreciated. She<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> laughed +to herself at Sypher's fantastic claim. To give up the great things +of the world, Life itself, for the sake of a quack ointment! It was +preposterous. Sypher was as crazy as Septimus; perhaps crazier, for +the latter did not thump his chest and inform her that his guns or +his patent convertible bed-razor-strop had need of her "here." +Decidedly, the results of her first excursion into the big world +had not turned out satisfactorily. Her delicate nose sniffed at +them in disdain. The sniff, however, was disappointingly +unconvincing. The voices of contemptible people could not sound in +a woman's ears like the drowsy murmuring of waters. The insane +little devil that had visited her in Clem Sypher's garden whispered +her to stay.</p> +<p>But had not Zora, in the magnificence of her strong womanhood, +in the hunger of her great soul, to find somewhere in the world a +Mission in Life, a fulness of existence which would accomplish her +destiny? Down with the insane little devil and all his potential +works! Zora laughed and recovered her serenity. Cousin Jane, who +had had much to write concerning the elopement, was summoned, and +Zora, with infinite baggage in the care of Turner, set sail for +California.</p> +<p>The New World lay before her with its chances of real, +quivering, human Life. Nunsmere, where nothing ever happened, lay +behind her. She smiled graciously at Sypher, who saw her off at +Waterloo, and said nice things to him about the Cure, but before +her eyes danced a mirage in which Clem Sypher and his Cure were not +visible. The train steamed out of the station. Sypher stood on the +edge of the platform and watched the end buffers until they were +out of sight; then he turned and strode away, and his face was that +of a man stricken with great loneliness.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span>CHAPTER +XII</h2> +<p>It never occurred to Septimus that he had done a quixotic thing +in marrying Emmy, any more than to pat himself on the back for a +monstrously clever fellow when he had completed a new invention. At +the door of the Registry Office he took off his hat, held out his +hand, and said good-by.</p> +<p>"But where are you going?" Emmy asked in dismay.</p> +<p>Septimus didn't know. He waved his hand vaguely over London, and +said, "Anywhere."</p> +<p>Emmy began to cry. She had passed most of the morning in tears. +She felt doubly guilty now that she had accepted the sacrifice of +his life; an awful sense of loneliness also overwhelmed her.</p> +<p>"I didn't know that you hated me like that," she said.</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" he cried in horror. "I don't hate you. I only +thought you had no further use for me."</p> +<p>"And I'm to be left alone in the street?"</p> +<p>"I'll drive you anywhere you like," said he.</p> +<p>"And then get rid of me as soon as possible? Oh! I know what you +must be feeling."</p> +<p>Septimus put his hand under her arm, and led her away, in great +distress.</p> +<p>"I thought you wouldn't be able to bear the sight of me."</p> +<p>"Oh, don't be silly!" said Emmy.</p> +<p>Her adjuration was on a higher plane of sentiment than +expression. It comforted Septimus.</p> +<p>"What would you like me to do?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id= +"Page_154"></a>[154]</span>Anything except leave me to +myself—at any rate for the present. Don't you see, I've only +you in the world to look to."</p> +<p>"God bless my soul," said he, "I suppose that's so. It's very +alarming. No one has ever looked to me in all my life. I'd wander +barefoot for you all over the earth. But couldn't you find somebody +else who's more used to looking after people? It's for your own +sake entirely," he hastened to assure her.</p> +<p>"I know," she said. "But you see it's impossible for me to go to +any of my friends, especially after what has happened." She held +out her ungloved left hand. "How could I explain?"</p> +<p>"You must never explain," he agreed, sagely. "It would undo +everything. I suppose things are easy, after all, when you've set +your mind on them—or get some chap that knows everything to +tell you how to do them—and there's lots of fellows about +that know everything—solicitors and so forth. There's the man +who told me about a Registrar. See how easy it was. Where would you +like to go?"</p> +<p>"Anywhere out of England." She shuddered. "Take me to Paris +first. We can go on from there anywhere we like."</p> +<p>"Certainly," said Septimus, and he hailed a hansom.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Thus it fell out that the strangely married pair kept together +during the long months that followed. Emmy's flat in London had +been rented furnished. The maid Edith had vanished, after the +manner of many of her kind, into ancillary space. The theater and +all it signified to Emmy became a past dream. Her inner world was +tragical enough, poor child. Her outer world was Septimus. +In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id= +"Page_155"></a>[155]</span> Paris, as she shrank from meeting +possible acquaintances, he found her a furnished <i>appartement</i> +in the Boulevard Raspail, while he perched in a little hotel close +by. The finding of the <i>appartement</i> was an illustration of +his newly invented, optimistic theory of getting things done.</p> +<p>He came back to the hotel where he had provisionally lodged her +and informed her of his discovery. She naturally asked him how he +had found it.</p> +<p>"A soldier told me," he said.</p> +<p>"A soldier?"</p> +<p>"Yes. He had great baggy red trousers and a sash around his +waist and a short blue jacket braided with red and a fez with a +tassel and a shaven head. He saved me from being run over by a +cab."</p> +<p>Emmy shivered. "Oh, don't talk of it in that calm +way—suppose you had been killed!"</p> +<p>"I suppose the Zouave would have buried me—he's such a +helpful creature, you know. He's been in Algiers. He says I ought +to go there. His name is Hégisippe Cruchot."</p> +<p>"But what about the flat?" asked Emmy.</p> +<p>"Oh, you see, I fell down in front of the cab and he dragged me +away and brushed me down with a waiter's napkin—there was a +café within a yard or two. And then I asked him to have a +drink and gave him a cigarette. He drank absinthe, without water, +and then I began to explain to him an idea for an invention which +occurred to me to prevent people from being run over by cabs, and +he was quite interested. I'll show you—"</p> +<p>"You won't," said Emmy, with a laugh. She had her lighter +moments. "You'll do no such thing—not until you've told me +about the flat."</p> +<p>"Oh! the flat," said Septimus in a disappointed tone, +as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id= +"Page_156"></a>[156]</span> if it were a secondary matter +altogether. "I gave him another absinthe and we became so friendly +that I told him that I wanted a flat and didn't in the least know +how to set about finding one. It turned out that there was an +<i>appartement</i> vacant in the house of which his mother is +concierge. He took me along to see it, and introduced me to Madame, +his mother. He has also got an aunt who can cook."</p> +<p>"I should like to have seen you talking to the Zouave," said +Emmy. "It would have made a pretty picture—the two of you +hobnobbing over a little marble table."</p> +<p>"It was iron, painted yellow," said Septimus. "It wasn't a +resplendent café."</p> +<p>"I wonder what he thought of you."</p> +<p>"Well, he introduced me to his mother," replied Septimus +gravely, whereat Emmy broke into merry laughter, for the first time +for many days.</p> +<p>"I've taken the <i>appartement</i> for a month and the aunt who +can cook," he remarked.</p> +<p>"What!" cried Emmy, who had not paid very serious regard to the +narrative. "Without knowing anything at all about it?"</p> +<p>She put on her hat and insisted on driving there incontinently, +full of misgivings. But she found a well-appointed house, a +deep-bosomed, broad-beamed concierge, who looked as if she might be +the mother of twenty helpful Zouaves, and an equally matronly and +kindly-faced sister, a Madame Bolivard, the aunt aforesaid who +could cook.</p> +<p>Thus, as the ravens fed Elijah, so did Zouaves and other casual +fowl aid Septimus on his way. Madame Bolivard in particular took +them both under her ample wing, to the girl's unspeakable comfort. +A <i>brav' femme</i>, Madame Boli<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_157" id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span>vard, who not only could +cook, but could darn stockings and mend linen, which Emmy's +frivolous fingers had never learned to accomplish. She could also +prescribe miraculous <i>tisanes</i> for trivial ailments, could +tell the cards, and could converse volubly on any subject under +heaven; the less she knew about it, the more she had to say, which +is a great gift. It spared the girl many desolate and despairing +hours.</p> +<p>It was a lonely, monotonous life. Septimus she saw daily. Now +and then, if Septimus were known to be upstairs, Hégisippe +Cruchot, coming to pay his filial respects to his mother and his +mother's <i>bouillabaisse</i> (she was from Marseilles) and her +<i>matelote</i> of eels, luxuries which his halfpenny a day could +not provide, would mount to inquire dutifully after his aunt and +incidentally after the <i>belle dame du troisième</i>. He +was their only visitor from the outside world, and as he found a +welcome and an ambrosial form of alcohol compounded of Scotch +whiskey and Maraschino (whose subtlety Emmy had learned from an +eminent London actor-manager at a far-away supper party), he came +as often as his respectful ideas of propriety allowed.</p> +<p>They were quaint gatherings, these, in the stiffly furnished +little salon: Emmy, fluffy-haired, sea-shell-cheeked, and softly +raimented, lying indolently on the sofa amid a pile of +cushions—she had sent Septimus out to "La Samaritaine" to buy +some (in French furnished rooms they stuff the cushions with +cement), and he had brought back a dozen in a cab, so that the +whole room heaved and swelled with them; Septimus, with his mild +blue eyes and upstanding hair, looking like the conventional +picture of one who sees a ghost; Hégisippe Cruchot, the +outrageousness of whose piratical kit contrasted with his suavity +of manner,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id= +"Page_158"></a>[158]</span> sitting with military precision on a +straight-backed chair; and Madame Bolivard standing in a far corner +of the room; her bare arms crossed above her blue apron, and +watching the scene with an air of kindly proprietorship. They spoke +in French, for only one word of English had Hégisippe and +his aunt between them, and that being "Howdodogoddam" was the +exclusive possession of the former. Emmy gave utterance now and +then to peculiar vocables which she had learned at school, and +which Hégisippe declared to be the purest Parisian he had +ever heard an Englishwoman use, while Septimus spoke very fair +French indeed. Hégisippe would twirl his little brown +mustache—he was all brown, skin and eyes and close-cropped +hair, and even the skull under the hair—and tell of his +military service and of the beautiful sunshine of Algiers and, when +his aunt was out of the room, of his Arcadian love affairs. She +served in a wine shop in the Rue des Francs-Bouchers. When was he +going to get married? At Emmy's question he laughed, with a wave of +his cigarette, and a clank of his bayonet against the leg of the +chair. On a sou a day? Time enough for that when he had made his +fortune. His mother then would doubtless find him a suitable wife +with a dowry. When his military service was over he was going to be +a waiter. When he volunteered this bit of information Emmy gave a +cry of surprise. This dashing, swaggering desperado of a fellow a +waiter!</p> +<p>"I shall never understand this country!" she cried.</p> +<p>"When one has good introductions and knows how to comport +oneself, one makes much"—and he rubbed his thumb and fingers +together, according to the national code of pantomime.</p> +<p>And then his hosts would tell him about England and +the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id= +"Page_159"></a>[159]</span> fogs, wherein he was greatly +interested; or Septimus would discourse to him of inventions, the +weak spot in which his shrewd intelligence generally managed to +strike, and then Septimus would run his fingers through this hair +and say, "God bless my soul, I never thought of that," and Emmy +would laugh; or else they talked politics. Hégisippe, being +a Radical, <i>fiché</i>'d himself absolutely of the Pope and +the priests. To be kind to one's neighbors and act as a good +citizen summed up his ethical code. He was as moral as any devout +Catholic.</p> +<p>"What about the girl in the Rue des Francs-Bouchers?" asked +Emmy.</p> +<p>"If I were a good Catholic, I would have two, for then I could +get absolution," he cried gaily, and laughed immoderately at his +jest.</p> +<p>The days of his visits were marked red in Emmy's calendar.</p> +<p>"I wish I were a funny beggar, and had lots of conversation like +our friend Cruchot, and could make you laugh," said Septimus one +day, when the <i>tædium vitæ</i> lay heavy on her.</p> +<p>"If you had a sense of humor you wouldn't be here," she replied, +with some bitterness.</p> +<p>Septimus rubbed his thin hands together thoughtfully.</p> +<p>"I don't know why you should say that," said he. "I never heard +a joke I didn't see the point of. I'm rather good at it."</p> +<p>"If you don't see the point of this joke, I can't explain it, my +dear. It has a point the size of a pyramid."</p> +<p>He nodded and looked dreamily out of the window at the opposite +houses. Sometimes her sharp sayings hurt him. But he understood +all, in his dim way, and pardoned<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> all. He never allowed her +to see him wince. He stood so long silent that Emmy looked up +anxiously at his face, dreading the effect of her words. His hand +hung by his side—he was near the sofa where she lay. She took +it gently, in a revulsion of feeling, kissed it, and, as he turned, +flung it from her.</p> +<p>"Go, my dear; go. I'm not fit to talk to you. Yes, go. You +oughtn't to be here; you ought to be in England in your comfortable +home with Wiggleswick and your books and inventions. You're too +good for me, and I'm hateful. I know it, and it drives me mad."</p> +<p>He took her hand in his turn and held it for a second or two in +both of his and patted it kindly.</p> +<p>"I'll go out and buy something," he said.</p> +<p>When he returned she was penitent and glad to see him; and +although he brought her as a present a hat—a thing of purple +feathers and green velvet and roses, in which no self-respecting +woman would be seen mummified a thousand years hence—she +neither laughed at it nor upbraided him, but tried the horror on +before the glass and smiled sweetly while the cold shivers ran down +her back.</p> +<p>"I don't want you to say funny things, Septimus," she said, +reverting to the starting point of the scene, "so long as you bring +me such presents as this."</p> +<p>"It's a nice hat," he admitted modestly. "The woman in the shop +said that very few people could wear it."</p> +<p>"I'm so glad you think I'm an exceptional woman," she said. +"It's the first compliment you have ever paid me."</p> +<p>She shed tears, though, over the feathers of the hat, before she +went to bed, good tears, such as bring great comfort and cleanse +the heart. She slept happier that night;<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> and +afterwards, whenever the devils entered her soul and the pains of +hell got hold upon her, she recalled the tears, and they became the +holy water of an exorcism.</p> +<p>Septimus, unconscious of this landmark in their curious wedded +life, passed tranquil though muddled days in his room at the +Hôtel Godet. A gleam of sunlight on the glazed hat of an +omnibus driver, the stick of the whip and the horse's ear, as he +was coming home one day on the <i>impériale</i>, put him on +the track of a new sighting apparatus for a field gun which he had +half invented some years before. The working out of this, and the +superintendence of the making of the model at some works near +Vincennes, occupied much of his time and thought. In matters +appertaining to his passion he had practical notions of procedure; +he would be at a loss to know where to buy a tooth-brush, and be +dependent on the ministrations of a postman or an old woman in a +charcoal shop, but to the place where delicate instruments could be +made he went straight, as instinctively and surely as a buffalo +heads for water. Many of his books and papers had been sent him +from time to time by Wiggleswick, who began to dread the post, the +labor of searching and packing and dispatching becoming too severe +a tax on the old villain's leisure. These lay in promiscuous heaps +about the floor of his bedroom, stepping-stones amid a river of +minor objects, such as collars and bits of india rubber and the day +before yesterday's <i>Petit Journal</i>. The <i>femme de +chambre</i> and the dirty, indeterminate man in a green baize +apron, who went about raising casual dust with a great feather +broom, at first stowed the litter away daily, with jackdaw +ingenuity of concealment, until Septimus gave them five francs each +to desist; whereupon they desisted with alacrity, and the +books<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id= +"Page_162"></a>[162]</span> became the stepping-stones aforesaid, +stepping-stones to higher things. His only concern was the +impossibility of repacking them when the time should come for him +to leave the Hôtel Godet, and sometimes the more academic +speculation as to what Zora would say should some miracle of +levitation transport her to the untidy chamber. He could see her, +radiant and commanding, dispelling chaos with the sweep of her +parasol.</p> +<p>There were few moments in the day when he did not crave her +presence. It had been warmth and sunshine and color to him for so +long that now the sun seemed to have disappeared from the sky, +leaving the earth a chill monochrome. Life was very difficult +without her. She had even withdrawn from him the love "in a sort of +way" to which she had confessed. The goddess was angry at the +slight cast on her by his secret marriage. And she was in +California, a myriad of miles away. She could not have been more +remote had she been in Saturn. When Emmy asked him whether he did +not long for Wiggleswick and the studious calm of Nunsmere, he +said, "No." And he spoke truly; for wherein lay the advantage of +one spot on the earth's surface over another, if Zora were not the +light thereof? But he kept his reason in his heart. They rarely +spoke of Zora.</p> +<p>Of the things that concerned Emmy herself so deeply, they never +spoke at all. Of her hopes and fears for the future he knew +nothing. For all that was said between them, Mordaunt Prince might +have been the figure of a dream that had vanished into the +impenetrable mists of dreamland. To the girl he was a ghastly +memory which she strove to hide in the depths of her soul. Septimus +saw that she suffered, and went many quaint and +irrelevant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id= +"Page_163"></a>[163]</span> ways to alleviate her misery. Sometimes +they got on her nerves; more often they made the good tears come. +Once she was reading a tattered volume of George Eliot which she +had picked up during a stroll on the quays, and calling him over to +her side pointed out a sentence: "Dogs are the best friends, they +are always ready with their sympathy and they ask no +questions."</p> +<p>"That's like you," she said; "but George Eliot had never met a +man like you, poor thing, so she had to stick the real thing down +to dogs."</p> +<p>Septimus reddened. "Dogs bark and keep one from sleeping," he +said. "My next-door neighbor at the Hôtel Godet has two. An +ugly man with a beard comes and takes them out in a motor car. Do +you know, I'm thinking of growing a beard. I wonder how I should +look in it?"</p> +<p>Emmy laughed and caught his sleeve. "Why won't you even let me +tell you what I think of you?"</p> +<p>"Wait till I've grown the beard, and then you can," said +Septimus.</p> +<p>"That will be never," she retorted; "for if you grow a beard, +you'll look a horror, like a Prehistoric Man—and I sha'n't +have anything to do with you. So I'll never be able to tell +you."</p> +<p>"It would be better so," said he.</p> +<p>They made many plans for settling down in some part of rural +France or Switzerland—they had the map of Europe to choose +from—but Septimus's vagueness and a disinclination for +further adventure on the part of Emmy kept them in Paris. The +winter brightened into spring, and Paris, gay in lilac and +sunshine, held them in her charm. There were days when they almost +forgot, and became the light-<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span>hearted companions of the +lame donkey on Nunsmere Common.</p> +<p>A day on the Seine, for instance, in a steamboat, when the water +was miraculously turned to sparkling wine and the great masses of +buildings were bathed in amber and the domes of the Pantheon and +the Invalides and the cartouches and bosses of the Pont Alexandre +III shone burnished gold. There was Auteuil, with its little +open-air restaurants, rustic trellis and creepers, and its +<i>friture</i> of gudgeon and dusty salt and cutlery and great +yards of bread, which Emmy loved to break with Septimus, like +Christmas crackers. Then, afterwards, there was the winding Seine +again, Robinson Crusoe's Island in all its greenery, and St. Cloud +with its terrace looking over the valley to Paris wrapped in an +amethyst haze, with here and there a triumphant point of glory.</p> +<p>A day also in the woods of Bas Meudon, alone beneath the trees, +when they talked like children, and laughed over the luncheon +basket which Madame Bolivard had stuffed full of electrifying +edibles; when they lay on their backs and looked dreamily at the +sky through the leaves, and listened to the chirrup of insects +awakening from winter and the strange cracklings and tiny voices of +springtide, and gave themselves up to the general vibration of life +which accompanies the working of the sap in the trees.</p> +<p>Days, too, in mid-Paris, in the Luxembourg Gardens, among the +nursery maids and working folk; at cafés on the remoter +boulevards, where the kindly life of Paris, still untouched by +touristdom, passes up and down, and the spring gets into the step +of youth and sparkles in a girl's eyes. At the window even of the +<i>appartement</i> in the Boulevard Raspail, when the air was +startlingly clear and scented and<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_165" id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> brought the message of +spring from far lands, from the golden shores of the Mediterranean, +from the windy mountain tops of Auvergne, from the broad, tender +green fields of Central France, from every heart and tree and +flower, from Paris itself, quivering with life. At such times they +would not talk, both interpreting the message in their own ways, +yet both drawn together into a common mood in which they vaguely +felt that the earth was still a Land of Romance, that the mystery +of rebirth was repeating itself according to unchanging and +perpetual law; that inconsiderable, forlorn human atoms though they +were, the law would inevitably affect them too, and cause new +hopes, new desires, and new happiness to bud and flower in their +hearts.</p> +<p>During these spring days there began to dawn in the girl's soul +a knowledge of the deeper meaning of things. When she first met +Septimus and delightedly regarded him as a new toy, she was the +fluffy, frivolous little animal of excellent breeding and half +education, so common in English country residential towns, with the +little refinements somewhat coarsened, the little animalism +somewhat developed, the little brain somewhat sharpened, by her +career on the musical-comedy stage. Now there were signs of change. +A glimmering notion of the duty of sacrifice entered her head. She +carried it out by appearing one day, when Septimus was taking her +for a drive, in the monstrous nightmare of a hat. It is not given +to breathing male to appreciate the effort it cost her. She said +nothing; neither did he. She sat for two hours in the victoria, +enduring the tortures of the uglified, watching him out of the tail +of her eye and waiting for a sign of recognition. At last she could +endure it no longer.</p> +<p>"I put this thing on to please you," she said.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id= +"Page_166"></a>[166]</span>What thing?"</p> +<p>"The hat you gave me."</p> +<p>"Oh! Is that it?" he murmured in his absent way. "I'm so glad +you like it."</p> +<p>He had never noticed it. He had scarcely recognized it. It had +given him no pleasure. She had made of herself a sight for gods and +men to no earthly purpose. All her sacrifice had been in vain. It +was then that she really experienced the disciplinary irony of +existence. She never wore the hat again; wherein she was +blameless.</p> +<p>The spring deepened into summer, and they stayed on in the +Boulevard Raspail until they gave up making plans. Paris baked in +the sun, and theaters perished, and riders disappeared from the +Acacias, and Cook's brakes replaced the flashing carriages in the +grand Avenue des Champs Elysées, and the great Anglo-Saxon +language resounded from the Place de la Bastille to the Bon +Marché. The cab horses drooped as if drugged by the vapor of +the melting asphalt beneath their noses. Men and women sat by +doorways, in front of little shops, on the benches in wide +thoroughfares. The Latin Quarter blazed in silence and the gates of +the great schools were shut. The merchants of lemonade wheeled +their tin vessels through the streets and the bottles crowned with +lemons looked pleasant to hot eyes. For the dust lay thick upon the +leaves of trees and the lips of men, and the air was heavy with the +over-fulfilment of spring's promise.</p> +<p>Septimus was sitting with Hégisippe Cruchot outside the +little café of the iron tables painted yellow where first +they had consorted.</p> +<p>"<i>Mon ami</i>," said he, "you are one of the phenomena that +make me believe in the <i>bon Dieu</i>. If you hadn't<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span> dragged +me from under the wheels of the cab, I should have been killed, and +if I had been killed you wouldn't have introduced me to your aunt +who can cook, and what I should have done without your aunt heaven +only knows. I owe you much."</p> +<p>"<i>Bah, mon vieux</i>," said Hégisippe, "what are you +talking about? You owe me nothing."</p> +<p>"I owe you three lives," said Septimus.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span>CHAPTER +XIII</h2> +<p>Hégisippe Cruchot laughed and twirled his little brows +mustache.</p> +<p>"If you think so much of it," said he, "you can acquit your debt +in full by offering me another absinthe to drink the health of the +three."</p> +<p>"Why, of course," said Septimus.</p> +<p>Hégisippe, who was sitting next the door, twisted his +head round and shouted his order to those within. It was a very +modest little café; in fact it was not a café at all, +but a <i>Marchand des vins</i> with a zinc counter inside, and a +couple of iron tables outside on the pavement to convey the air of +a <i>terrasse</i>. Septimus, with his genius for the inharmonious, +drank tea; not as the elegant nowadays drink at Colombin's or +Rumpelmayer's, but a dirty, gray liquid served with rum, according +to the old French fashion, before <i>five-o'cloquer</i> became a +verb in the language. When people ask for tea at a <i>Marchand des +vins</i>, the teapot has to be hunted up from goodness knows where; +and as for the tea...! Septimus, however, sipped the decoction of +the dust of ages with his usual placidity. He had poured himself +out a second cup and was emptying into it the remainder of the +carafe of rum, so as to be ready for the toast as soon as +Hégisippe had prepared his absinthe, when a familiar voice +behind him caused him to start and drop the carafe itself into the +teacup.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm blessed!" said the voice.</p> +<p>It was Clem Sypher, large, commanding, pink, and smi<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span>ling. +The sight of Septimus hobnobbing with a Zouave outside a humble +wine merchant's had drawn from him the exclamation of surprise. +Septimus jumped to his feet.</p> +<p>"My dear fellow, how glad I am to see you. Won't you sit down +and join us? Have a drink."</p> +<p>Sypher took off his gray Homburg hat for a moment, and wiped a +damp forehead.</p> +<p>"Whew! How anybody can stay in Paris this weather unless they +are obliged to is a mystery."</p> +<p>"Why do you stay?" asked Septimus.</p> +<p>"I'm not staying. I'm passing through on my way to Switzerland +to look after the Cure there. But I thought I'd look you up. I was +on my way to you. I was in Nunsmere last week and took Wiggleswick +by the throat and choked your address out of him. The Hôtel +Godet. It's somewhere about here, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"Over there," said Septimus, with a wave of the hand. He brought +a chair from the other table. "Do sit down."</p> +<p>Sypher obeyed. "How's the wife?"</p> +<p>"The—what?" asked Septimus.</p> +<p>"The wife—Mrs. Dix."</p> +<p>"Oh, very well, thank you," he said hurriedly. "Let me introduce +you to my good friend Monsieur Hégisippe Cruchot of the +Zouaves—Monsieur Cruchot—Monsieur Clem Sypher."</p> +<p>Hégisippe saluted and declared his enchantment according +to the manners of his country. Sypher raised his hat politely.</p> +<p>"Of Sypher's Cure—Friend of Humanity. Don't forget that," +he said laughingly in French.</p> +<p>"<i>Qu'est ce que c'est que ça?</i>" asked +Hégisippe, turning to Septimus. Septimus explained.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id= +"Page_170"></a>[170]</span>Ah-h!" cried Hégisippe, +open-mouthed, the light of recognition in his eyes. "<i>La Cure +Sypher</i>!" He made it rhyme with "prayer." "But I know that well. +And it is Monsieur who fabricates <i>ce machin-là</i>?"</p> +<p>"Yes; the Friend of Humanity. What have you used it for?"</p> +<p>"For my heels when they had blisters after a long day's +march."</p> +<p>The effect of these words on Sypher was electrical. He brought +both hands down on the table, leaned back in his chair, and looked +at Septimus.</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" he cried, changing color, "it never occurred to +me."</p> +<p>"What?"</p> +<p>"Why—blistered heels—marching. Don't you see? It +will cure the sore feet of the Armies of the World. It's a +revelation! It will be in the knapsack of every soldier who goes to +manœuvers or to war! It will be a jolly sight more useful +than a marshal's baton! It will bring soothing comfort to millions +of brave men! Why did I never think of it? I must go round to all +the War Offices of the civilized globe. It's colossal. It makes +your brain reel. Friend of Humanity? I shall be the Benefactor of +the Human Race."</p> +<p>"What will you have to drink?" asked Septimus.</p> +<p>"Anything. <i>Donnez-moi un bock</i>," he said impatiently, +obsessed by his new idea. "Tell me, Monsieur Cruchot, you who have +used the <i>Cure Sypher</i>. It is well known in the French army is +it not? You had it served out from the regimental medical +stores?"</p> +<p>"Ah, no, Monsieur. It is my mother who rubbed it on my +heels."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id= +"Page_171"></a>[171]</span>Sypher's face expressed disappointment, +but he cheered up again immediately.</p> +<p>"Never mind. It is the idea that you have given me. I am very +grateful to you, Monsieur Cruchot."</p> +<p>Hégisippe laughed. "It is to my mother you should be +grateful, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"I should like to present her with a free order for the Cure for +life—if I knew where she lived."</p> +<p>"That is easy," said Hégisippe, "seeing that she is +concierge in the house where the <i>belle dame</i> of Monsieur has +her <i>appartement</i>."</p> +<p>"Her <i>appartement</i>?" Sypher turned sharply to Septimus. +"What's that? I thought you lived at the Hôtel Godet."</p> +<p>"Of course," said Septimus, feeling very uncomfortable. "I live +in the hotel, and Emmy lives in a flat. She couldn't very well stay +in the Hôtel Godet, because it isn't a nice place for ladies. +There's a dog in the courtyard that howls. I tried to throw him +some cold ham the other morning about six o'clock to stop him; but +it hit a sort of dustman, who ate it and looked up for more. It was +very good ham, and I was going to have it for supper."</p> +<p>"But, my dear man," said Sypher, laying his hand on his friend's +shoulder, and paying no heed to the dog, ham, and dustman story, +"aren't you two living together?"</p> +<p>"Oh, dear, not" said Septimus, in alarm, and then, catching at +the first explanation—"you see, our hours are different."</p> +<p>Sypher shook his head uncomprehendingly. The proprietor of the +establishment, in dingy shirt-sleeves, set down the beer before +him. Hégisippe, who had mixed his absinthe and was waiting +politely until their new friend should be served, raised his +glass.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id= +"Page_172"></a>[172]</span>Just before you came, Monsieur," said +he, "I was about to drink to the health—"</p> +<p>"Of <i>L'Armée-Française</i>," interrupted +Septimus, reaching out his glass.</p> +<p>"But no," laughed Hégisippe. "It was to Monsieur, Madame, +et Bébé."</p> +<p>"Bébé?" cried Sypher, and Septimus felt his clear, +swift glance read his soul.</p> +<p>They clinked glasses. Hégisippe, defying the laws +governing the absorption of alcohols, tossed off his absinthe in +swashbuckler fashion, and rose.</p> +<p>"Now I leave you. You have many things to talk about. My +respectful compliments to Madame. Messieurs, au revoir."</p> +<p>He shook hands, saluted and swaggered off, his chechia at the +very back of his head, leaving half his shaven crown uncovered in +front.</p> +<p>"A fine fellow, your friend, an intelligent fellow—" said +Sypher, watching him.</p> +<p>"He's going to be a waiter," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"Now that he has had his heels rubbed with the cure he may be +more ambitious. A valuable fellow, for having given me a stupendous +idea—but a bit indiscreet, eh? Never mind," he added, seeing +the piteous look on Septimus's face. "I'll have discretion for the +two of us. I'll not breathe a word of it to anybody."</p> +<p>"Thank you," said Septimus.</p> +<p>There was an awkward silence. Septimus traced a diagram on the +table with the spilled tea. Sypher lighted a cigar, which he smoked +in the corner of his mouth, American fashion.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm damned!" he muttered below his breath.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id= +"Page_173"></a>[173]</span>He looked hard at Septimus, intent on +his tea drawing. Then he shifted his cigar impatiently to the other +side of his mouth. "No, I'm damned if I am. I can't be."</p> +<p>"You can't be what?" asked Septimus, catching his last +words.</p> +<p>"Damned."</p> +<p>"Why should you be?"</p> +<p>"Look here," said Sypher, "I've rushed in rather unceremoniously +into your private affairs. I'm sorry. But I couldn't help taking an +interest in the two of you, both for your own sake and that of Zora +Middlemist."</p> +<p>"I suppose you would do anything for her."</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"So would I," said Septimus, in a low voice. "There are some +women one lives for and others one dies for."</p> +<p>"She is one of the women for whom one would live."</p> +<p>Septimus shook his head. "No, she's the other kind. It's much +higher. I've had a lot of time to think the last few months," he +continued after a pause. "I've had no one but Emmy and +Hégisippe Cruchot to talk to—and I've thought a great +deal about women. They usedn't to come my way, and I didn't know +anything at all about them."</p> +<p>"Do you now?" asked Sypher, with a smile.</p> +<p>"Oh, a great deal," replied Septimus seriously. "It's +astonishing what a lot of difference there is between them and +between the ways men approach different types. One woman a man +wants to take by the hand and lead, and another—he's quite +content if she makes a carpet of his body and walks over it to save +her feet from sharp stones. It's odd, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"Not very," said Sypher, who took a more direct view of things +than Septimus. "It's merely because he has got a<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> kindly +feeling for one woman and is desperately in love with the +other."</p> +<p>"Perhaps that's it," said Septimus.</p> +<p>Sypher again looked at him sharply, as a man does who thinks he +has caught another man's soul secret. It was only under +considerable stress of feeling that such coherence of ideas could +have been expressed by his irrelevant friend. What he had learned +the last few minutes had been a surprise, a pain, and a puzzle to +him. The runaway marriage held more elements than he had imagined. +He bent forward confidentially.</p> +<p>"You would make a carpet of your body for Zora Middlemist?"</p> +<p>"Why, of course," replied the other in perfect simplicity.</p> +<p>"Then, my friend, you're desperately in love with her."</p> +<p>There was kindness, help, sympathy in the big man's voice, and +Septimus, though the challenge caused him agonies of shyness, did +not find it in his heart to resent Sypher's logic.</p> +<p>"I suppose every man whom she befriends must feel the same +towards her. Don't you?"</p> +<p>"I? I'm different. I've got a great work to carry through. I +couldn't lie down for anybody to walk over me. My work would +suffer—but in this mission of mine Zora Middlemist is +intimately involved. I said it when I first saw her, and I said it +just before she left for California. She is to stand by my side and +help me. How, God knows." He laughed, seeing the bewildered face of +Septimus, who had never heard of this transcendental connection of +Zora with the spread of Sypher's Cure. "You seem to think I'm +crazy. I'm not. I work everything on the most hard<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> and +fast common-sense lines. But when a voice inside you tells you a +thing day and night, you must believe it."</p> +<p>Said Septimus: "If you had not met her, you wouldn't have met +Hégisippe Cruchot, and so you wouldn't have got the idea of +Army blisters."</p> +<p>Sypher clapped him on the shoulder and extolled him as a miracle +of lucidity. He explained magniloquently. It was Zora's unseen +influence working magnetically from the other side of the world +that had led his footsteps towards the Hôtel Godet on that +particular afternoon. She had triumphantly vindicated her assertion +that geographical location of her bodily presence could make no +difference.</p> +<p>"I asked her to stay in England, you know," he remarked more +simply, seeing that Septimus lagged behind him in his flight.</p> +<p>"What for?"</p> +<p>"Why, to help me. For what other reason?"</p> +<p>Septimus took off his hat and laid it on the chair vacated by +Hégisippe, and ran his fingers reflectively up his hair. +Sypher lit another cigar. Their side of the little street was deep +in shade, but on half the road and on the other side of the way the +fierce afternoon sunlight blazed. The merchant of wine, who had +been lounging in his dingy shirt-sleeves against the door-post, +removed the glasses and wiped the table clear of the spilled tea. +Sypher ordered two more bocks for the good of the house, while +Septimus, still lost in thought, brought his hair to its highest +pitch of Struwel Peterdom. Passers-by turned round to look at them, +for well-dressed Englishmen do not often sit outside a <i>Marchand +des vins</i>, especially one with such hair. But passers-by are +polite in France and do not salute the unfamiliar with +ribaldry.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id= +"Page_176"></a>[176]</span>Well," said Sypher, at last.</p> +<p>"We've been speaking intimately," said Septimus. He paused, then +proceeded with his usual diffidence. "I've never spoken intimately +to a man before, and I don't quite know how to do it—it must +be just like asking a woman to marry you—but don't you think +you were selfish?"</p> +<p>"Selfish? How?"</p> +<p>"In asking Zora Middlemist to give up her trip to California, +just for the sake of the Cure."</p> +<p>"It's worth the sacrifice," Sypher maintained.</p> +<p>"To you, yes; but it mayn't be so to her."</p> +<p>"But she believes in the thing as I do myself!" cried +Sypher.</p> +<p>"Why should she, any more than I, or Hégisippe Cruchot? +If she did, she would have stayed. It would have been her duty. You +couldn't expect a woman like Zora Middlemist to fail in her duty, +could you?"</p> +<p>Sypher rubbed his eyes, as if he saw things mistily. But they +were quite clear. It was really Septimus Dix who sat opposite, +concentrating his discursive mind on Sypher's Cure and implicitly +denying Zora's faith. A simple-minded man in many respects, he +would not have scorned to learn wisdom out of the mouths of babes +and sucklings; but out of the mouth of Septimus what wisdom could +possibly proceed? He laughed his suggestion away somewhat +blusteringly and launched out again on his panegyric of the Cure. +But his faith felt a quiver all through its structure, just as a +great building does at the first faint shock of earthquake.</p> +<p>"What made you say that about Zora Middlemist?" he asked when he +had finished.</p> +<p>"I don't know," replied Septimus. "It seemed to be right to say +it. I know when I get things into my head<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> there +appears to be room for nothing else in the world. One takes things +for granted. When I was a child my father took it for granted that +I believed in predestination. I couldn't; but I did not dare tell +him so. So I went about with a load of somebody else's faith on my +shoulders. It became intolerable; and when my father found out he +beat me. He had a bit of rope tied up with twine at the end for the +purpose. I shouldn't like this to happen to Zora."</p> +<p>This ended the discussion. The landlord at his door-post drew +them into talk about the heat, the emptiness of Paris and the happy +lot of those who could go into villeggiatura in the country. The +arrival of a perspiring cabman in a red waistcoat and glazed hat +caused him to retire within and administer to the newcomer's +needs.</p> +<p>"One of my reasons for looking you up," said Sypher, "was to +make my apologies."</p> +<p>"Apologies?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Haven't you thought about the book on guns and wondered at +not hearing from me?"</p> +<p>"No," said Septimus. "When I've invented a thing the interest +has gone. I've just invented a new sighting apparatus. I'll show +you the model if you'll come to the hotel."</p> +<p>Sypher looked at his watch and excused himself on the ground of +business engagements. Then he had to dine and start by the nine +o'clock train.</p> +<p>"Anyhow," said he, "I'm ashamed at not having done anything with +the guns. I did show the proofs to a naval expert, but he made all +sorts of criticisms which didn't help. Experts know everything that +is known and don't want to know anything that isn't. So I laid it +aside."</p> +<p>"It doesn't matter in the least," said Septimus eagerly, "and if +you want to break the contract you sent me, I can<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> pay you +back the two hundred pounds." But Sypher assured him that he had +never broken a contract in his life, and they shook hands and went +their respective ways, Septimus to the <i>appartement</i> in the +Boulevard Raspail, and Sypher thoughtfully in the direction of the +Luxembourg.</p> +<p>He was sorry, very sorry for Septimus Dix. His kindness of heart +had not allowed him to tell the brutal truth about the guns. The +naval expert had scoffed in the free manner of those who follow the +sea and declared the great guns a mad inventor's dream. The +Admiralty was overwhelmed with such things. The proofs were so much +waste paper. Sypher had come prepared to break the news as gently +as he could; but after all their talk it was not in his heart to do +so. And the two hundred pounds—he regarded it as money given +to a child to play with. He would never claim it. He was sorry, +very sorry for Septimus. He looked back along the past year and saw +the man's dog-like devotion to Zora Middlemist. But why did he +marry Emmy, loving the sister as he did? Why live apart from her, +having married her? And the child? It was all a mystery in which he +did not see clear. He pitied the ineffectuality of Septimus with +the kind yet half-contemptuous pity of the strong man with a fine +nature. But as for his denial of Zora's faith, he laughed it away. +Egotistical, yes. Zora had posed the same question as Septimus and +he had answered it. But her faith in the Cure itself, his mission +to spread it far and wide over the earth, and to save the nations +from vulgar competitors who thought of nothing but sordid +gain—that, he felt sure, remained unshaken.</p> +<p>Yet as he walked along, in the alien though familiar city, he +was smitten, as with physical pain, by a craving for<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> her +presence, for the gleam of her eyes, for the greatness of sympathy +and comprehension that inhabited her generous and beautiful frame. +The need of her was imperious. He stopped at a café on the +Boulevard Saint-Michel, called for the wherewithal to write, and +like a poet in the fine frenzy of inspiration, poured out his soul +to her over the heels of the armies of the world.</p> +<p>He had walked a great deal during the day. When he stepped out +of the cab that evening at the Gare de Lyon, he felt an unfamiliar +stinging in his heel. During the process of looking after his +luggage and seeking his train he limped about the platform. When he +undressed for the night in his sleeping compartment, he found that +a ruck in his sock had caused a large blister. He regarded it with +superstitious eyes, and thought of the armies of the world. <i>In +hoc signo vinces!</i> The message had come from heaven.</p> +<p>He took a sample box of Sypher's Cure from his handbag, and, +almost with reverence, anointed his heel.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span>CHAPTER +XIV</h2> +<p>Clem Sypher slept the sleep of the warrior preparing for battle. +When he awoke at Lyons he had all the sensations of a wounded +Achilles. His heel smarted and tingled and ached, and every time he +turned over determined on a continuation of slumber, his foot +seemed to occupy the whole width of the berth. He reanointed +himself and settled down again. But wakefulness had gripped him. He +pulled up the blinds of the compartment and let the dawn stream in, +and, lying on his back, gave himself up to the plans of his new +campaign. The more he thought out the scheme the simpler it became. +He had made it his business to know personages of high influence in +every capital in Europe. Much of his success had already been +gained that way. The methods of introduction had concerned him but +little. For social purposes they could have been employed only by a +pushing upstart; but in the furtherance of a divine mission the +apostle does not bind his inspired feet with the shackles of +ordinary convention. Sypher rushed in, therefore, where the +pachyderms of Park Lane would have feared to tread. Just as the +fanatical evangelist has no compunction in putting to an entire +stranger embarrassing questions as to his possession of the Peace +of God, so had Sypher no scruple in approaching any foreigner of +distinguished mien in an hotel lounge and converting him to the +religion of Sypher's Cure. In most cosmopolitan resorts his burly +figure and pink face were well known. Newspapers paragraphed his +arrival and departure. Peo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" +id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span>ple pointed him out to one another in +promenades. Distinguished personages to whom he had casually +introduced himself introduced him to other distinguished +personages. When he threw off the apostle and became the man, his +simple directness and charm of manner caused him to be accepted +pleasurably for his own sake. Had he chosen to take advantage of +his opportunities he might have consorted with very grand folks +indeed; at a price, be it said, which his pride refused to pay. But +he had no social ambitions. The grand folks therefore respected him +and held out a cordial hand as he passed by. That very train was +carrying to Switzerland a Russian Grand Duke who had greeted him +with a large smile and a "<i>Ah! ce bon Sypher!</i>" on the +platform of the Gare de Lyon, and had presented him as the Friend +of Humanity to the Grand Duchess.</p> +<p>To Sypher, lying on his back and dreaming of the days when +through him the forced marches of weary troops would become +light-hearted strolls along the road, the jealously guarded portals +of the War Offices of the world presented no terrors. He ticked off +the countries in his mind until he came to Turkey. Whom did he know +in Turkey? He had once given a certain Musurus Bey a light for his +cigarette in the atrium of the Casino at Monte Carlo; but that +could scarcely be called an introduction. No matter; his star was +now in the ascendant. The Lord would surely provide a Turk for him +in Geneva. He shifted his position in the berth, and a twinge of +pain passed through his foot, hurting horribly.</p> +<p>When he rose to dress, he found some difficulty in putting on +his boot. On leaving the train at Geneva he could scarcely walk. In +his room at the hotel he anointed his heel again with the Cure, +and, glad to rest, sat by the win<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_182" id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span>dow looking at the blue +lake and Mont Blanc white-capped in the quivering distance, his leg +supported on a chair. Then his traveler, who had arranged to meet +him by appointment, was shown into the room. They were to lunch +together. To ease his foot Sypher put on an evening slipper and +hobbled downstairs.</p> +<p>The traveler told a depressing tale. Jebusa Jones had got in +everywhere and was underselling the Cure. A new German skin remedy +had insidiously crept on to the market. Wholesale houses wanted +impossible discounts, and retail chemists could not be inveigled +into placing any but the most insignificant orders. He gave +dismaying details, terribly anxious all the while lest his chief +should attribute to his incompetence the growing unpopularity of +the Cure. But to his amazement Sypher listened smilingly to his +story of disaster, and ordered a bottle of champagne.</p> +<p>"All that is nothing!" he cried. "A flea bite in the ocean. It +will right itself as the public realize how they are being taken in +by these American and German impostors. The Cure can't fail. And +let me tell you, Dennymede, my son, the Cure is going to flourish +as it has never flourished before. I've got a scheme that will take +your breath away."</p> +<p>The glow of inspiration in Sypher's blue eyes and the triumph +written on his resolute face brought the features of the worried +traveler for the first time into an expression of normal +satisfaction with the world.</p> +<p>"I will stagger you to your commercial depths, my boy," Sypher +continued. "Have a drink first before I tell you."</p> +<p>He raised his champagne glass. "To Sypher's Cure!" They drank +the toast solemnly.</p> +<p>And then Sypher unfolded to his awe-stricken subordinate the +scheme for deblistering the heels of the armies of the<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> world. +Dennymede, fired by his enthusiasm, again lifted his brimming +glass.</p> +<p>"By God, sir, you are a conqueror, an Alexander, a Hannibal, a +Napoleon! There's a colossal fortune in it."</p> +<p>"And it will give me enough money," said Sypher, "to advertise +Jebusa Jones and the others off the face of the earth."</p> +<p>"You needn't worry about them, sir, when you've got the army +contracts," said the traveler.</p> +<p>He could not follow the spirituality underlying his chief's +remark. Sypher laid down the peach he was peeling and looked +pityingly at Dennymede as at one of little faith, one born to the +day of small things.</p> +<p>"It will be all the more my duty to do so," said he, "when the +instruments are placed in my hands. What, after all, is the healing +of a few blistered feet, compared with the scourge of leprosy, +eczema, itch, psoriasis, and what not? And, as for the money +itself, what is it?"</p> +<p>He preached his sermon. The securing of the world's army +contracts was only a means towards the shimmering ideal. It would +clear the path of obstacles and leave the Cure free to pursue its +universal way as <i>consolatrix afflictorum</i>.</p> +<p>The traveler finished his peach, and accepted another which his +host hospitably selected for him.</p> +<p>"All the same, sir," said he, "this is the biggest thing you've +struck. May I ask how you came to strike it?"</p> +<p>"Like all great schemes, it had humble beginnings," said Sypher, +in comfortable postprandial mood, unconsciously flattered by the +admiration of his subordinate. "Newton saw an apple drop to the +ground: hence the theory of gravitation. The glory of Tyre and +Sidon arose from the purple droppings of a little dog's mouth who +had been eating shell <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id= +"Page_184"></a>[184]</span>fish. The great Cunarders came out of +the lid of Stephenson's family kettle. A soldier happened to tell +me that his mother had applied Sypher's Cure to his blistered +heels—and that was the origin of the scheme."</p> +<p>He leaned back in his chair, stretched out his legs and put one +foot over the other. He immediately started back with a cry of +pain.</p> +<p>"I was forgetting my own infernal blister," said he. "About a +square inch of skin is off and all the flesh round, it is as red as +a tomato."</p> +<p>"You'll have to be careful," advised the traveler. "What are you +using for it?"</p> +<p>"Using for it? Why, good heavens, man, the Cure! What else?"</p> +<p>He regarded Dennymede as if he were insane,' and Dennymede in +his confusion blushed as red as the blistered heel.</p> +<p>They spent the afternoon over the reports and figures which had +so greatly depressed the traveler. He left his chief with hopes +throbbing in his breast. He had been promised a high position in +the new Army Contract Department. As soon as he had gone Sypher +rubbed in more of the Cure.</p> +<p>He passed a restless night. In the morning he found the ankle +considerably swollen. He could scarcely put his foot to the ground. +He got into bed again and rang the bell for the valet de chambre. +The valet entered. Sypher explained. He had a bad foot and wanted +to see a doctor. Did the valet know of a good doctor? The valet not +only knew of a good doctor, but an English doctor resident in +Geneva who was always summoned to attend English and American +visitors at the hotel; furthermore, he was in the hotel at that +very moment.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id= +"Page_185"></a>[185]</span>Ask him if he would kindly step up," +said Sypher.</p> +<p>He looked ruefully at his ankle, which was about the size of his +calf, wondering why the Cure had not effected its advertised magic. +The inflammation, however, clearly required medical advice. In the +midst of his ruefulness the doctor, a capable-looking man of five +and thirty, entered the room. He examined the heel and ankle with +professional scrutiny. Then he raised his head.</p> +<p>"Have you been treating it in any way?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Sypher, "with the Cure."</p> +<p>"What Cure?"</p> +<p>"Why, Sypher's Cure."</p> +<p>The doctor brought his hand down on the edge of the footboard of +the bed, with a gesture of impatience.</p> +<p>"Why on earth do people treat themselves with quack remedies +they know nothing about?"</p> +<p>"Quack remedies!" cried Sypher.</p> +<p>"Of course. They're all pestilential, and if I had my way I'd +have them stacked in the market place and burned by the common +hangman. But the most pestilential of the lot is Sypher's Cure. You +ought never to have used it."</p> +<p>Sypher had the sensation of the hotel walls crashing down upon +his head, falling across his throat and weighing upon his chest. +For a few instants he suffered a nightmare paralysis. Then he +gasped for breath. At last he said very quietly:</p> +<p>"Do you know who I am?"</p> +<p>"I have not the pleasure," said the doctor. "They only gave me +your room number."</p> +<p>"I am Clem Sypher, the proprietor of Sypher's Cure."</p> +<p>The two men stared at one another, Sypher in a blue-striped +pyjama jacket, supporting himself by one elbow on<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> the +bed, the doctor at the foot. The doctor spread out his hands.</p> +<p>"It's the most horrible moment of my life. I am at your mercy. I +only gave you my honest opinion, the result of my experience. If I +had known your name—naturally—"</p> +<p>"You had better go," said Sypher in a queer voice, digging the +nails into the palms of his hands. "Your fee—?"</p> +<p>"There is no question of it. I am only grieved to the heart at +having wounded you. Good morning."</p> +<p>The door closed behind him, and Sypher gave himself up to his +furious indignation.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>This soothed the soul but further inflamed the ankle. He called +up the manager of the hotel and sent for the leading medical man in +Geneva. When he arrived he took care to acquaint him with his name +and quality. Dr. Bourdillot, professor of dermatology in the +University of Geneva, made his examination, and shook a tactful +head. With all consideration for the many admirable virtues of +<i>la cure Sypher</i>, yet there were certain maladies of the skin +for which he personally would not prescribe it. For this, for +that—he rattled off half a dozen of learned diseases—it +might very well be efficacious. Its effect would probably be benign +in a case of elephantiasis. But in a case of abrasion of the +cuticle, where there was a large surface of raw flesh laid bare, +perhaps a simpler treatment might be more desirable.</p> +<p>His tone was exquisite, and he chose his language so that not a +word could wound. Sypher listened to him with a sinking heart.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id= +"Page_187"></a>[187]</span>In your opinion then, doctor," said he, +"it isn't a good thing for blistered heels?"</p> +<p>"You ask for my opinion," replied the professor of dermatology +at the University of Geneva. "I give it you. No."</p> +<p>Sypher threw out a hand, desperately argumentative.</p> +<p>"But I know of a case in which it has proved efficacious. A +Zouave of my acquaintance—"</p> +<p>Dr. Bourdillot smiled. "A Zouave? Just as nothing is sacred to a +sapper, so is nothing hurtful to a Zouave. They have hides like +hippopotamuses, those fellows. You could dip them in vitriol and +they wouldn't feel it."</p> +<p>"So his heels recovered in spite of the Cure?" said Sypher, +grimly.</p> +<p>"Evidently," said Dr. Bourdillot.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Sypher sat in his room for a couple of days, his leg on a chair, +and looked at Mont Blanc, exquisite in its fairy splendor against +the far, pale sky. It brought him no consolation. On the contrary +it reminded him of Hannibal and other conquerors leading their +footsore armies over the Alps. When he allowed a despondent fancy +to wander uncontrolled, he saw great multitudes of men staggering +shoeless along with feet and ankles inflamed to the color of +tomatoes. Then he pulled himself together and set his teeth. +Dennymede came to visit him and heard with dismay the verdict of +science, which crushed his hope of a high position in the new Army +Contract Department. But Sypher reassured him as to his material +welfare by increasing his commission on foreign sales; whereupon he +began to take a practical view of the situation.</p> +<p>"We can't expect a patent medicine, sir, to do everything."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id= +"Page_188"></a>[188]</span>I quite agree with you," said Sypher. +"It can't make two legs grow where one grew before, but it ought to +cure blisters on the heel. Apparently it won't. So we are where we +were before I met Monsieur Hégisippe Cruchot. The only thing +is that we mustn't now lead people to suppose that it's good for +blisters."</p> +<p>"They must take their chance," said Dennymede. He was a sharp, +black-haired young man, with a worried brow and a bilious +complexion. The soothing of the human race with Sypher's Balm of +Gilead mattered nothing to him. His atrabiliar temperament rendered +his attitude towards humanity rather misanthropic than otherwise. +"Indeed," he continued, "I don't see why you shouldn't try for the +army contracts without referring specifically to sore feet."</p> +<p>"<i>Caveat emptor</i>," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon?" said Dennymede, who had no Latinity.</p> +<p>"It means, let the buyer beware; it's up to the buyer to see +what stuff he's buying."</p> +<p>"Naturally. It's the first principle of business."</p> +<p>Sypher turned his swift clear glance on him and banged the +window-ledge with his hand.</p> +<p>"It's the first principle of damned knavery and thieving," he +cried, "and if I thought anyone ran my business on it, they'd go +out of my employ at once! It's at the root of all the corruption +that exists in modern trade. It salves the conscience of the +psalm-singing grocer who puts ground beans into his coffee. It's a +damnable principle."</p> +<p>He thumped the window-ledge again, very angry. The traveler +hedged.</p> +<p>"Of course it's immoral to tell lies and say a thing is what it +isn't. But on the other hand no one could run a<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> patent +medicine on the lines of warning the public as to what it isn't +good for. You say on the wrapper it will cure gout and rheumatism. +If a woman buys a bottle and gives it to her child who has got +scarlet fever, and the child dies from it, it's her lookout and not +yours. When a firm does issue a warning such as 'Won't Wash +Clothes,' it's a business proceeding for the firm's own +protection."</p> +<p>"Well, we'll issue a warning, 'Won't Cure Blisters,'" said +Sypher. "I advertise myself as the Friend of Humanity. I am, +according to my lights. If I let poor fellows on the march reduce +their feet to this condition I should be the scourge of mankind +like"—he snapped his fingers trying to recall the +name—"like Atlas—no it wasn't Atlas, but no matter. Not +a box of the Cure has been sold without the guarantee stamp of my +soul's conviction on it."</p> +<p>"The Jebusa Jones people aren't so conscientious," said +Dennymede. "I bought a pot of their stuff this morning. They've got +a new wrapper. See." He unfolded a piece of paper and pointed out +the place to his chief. "They have a special paragraph in large +print: 'Gives instant relief to blistered feet. Every mountaineer +should carry it in his gripsack.'"</p> +<p>"They're the enemies of God and man," said Sypher, "and sooner +than copy their methods I would close down the factory and never +sell another box as long as I lived."</p> +<p>"It's a thousand pities, sir, anyhow," said Dennymede, trying to +work back diplomatically, "that the army contract scheme has to be +thrown overboard."</p> +<p>"Yes, it's a nuisance," said Sypher.</p> +<p>When he had dismissed the traveler he laughed grimly. "A +nuisance!"</p> +<p>The word was a grotesque anticlimax.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id= +"Page_190"></a>[190]</span>He sat for a long while with his hands +blinding his eyes, trying to realize what the abandonment of the +scheme meant to him. He was a man who faced his responsibilities +squarely. For the first time in his life he had tried the Cure +seriously on himself—chance never having given him cause +before—and it had failed. He had heard the Cure which he +regarded as a divine unction termed a pestilential quackery; the +words burned red-hot in his brain. He had heard it depreciated, +with charming tact and courtesy, by a great authority on diseases +of the skin. One short word, "no," had wiped out of existence his +Napoleonic scheme for the Armies of the World—for putting +them on a sound footing. He smiled bitterly as the incongruous jest +passed through his mind.</p> +<p>He had been fighting for months, and losing ground; but this was +the first absolute check that his faith had received. He staggered +under it, half wonderingly, like a man who has been hit by an +unseen hand and looks around to see whence the blow came. Why +should it come now? He looked back along the years. Not a breath of +disparagement had touched the Cure's fair repute. His files in +London were full of testimonials honorably acquired. Some of these, +from lowly folk, were touching in their simple gratitude. It is +true that his manager suggested that the authors had sent them in +the hope of gain and of seeing their photographs in the halfpenny +papers. But his manager, Shuttleworth, was a notorious and dismal +cynic who believed in nothing save the commercial value of the +Cure. Letters had come with coroneted flaps to the envelopes. The +writers certainly hoped neither for gain nor for odd notoriety. He +had never paid a fee for a testimonial throughout his career; every +one that he printed was gen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" +id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span>uine and unsolicited. He had been +hailed as the Friend of Humanity by all sorts and conditions of +men. Why suddenly should he be branded as a dealer in +pestilence?</p> +<p>His thought wandered back to the beginning of things. He saw +himself in the chemist's shop in Bury Saint Edmunds— a little +shop in a little town, too small, he felt, for the great unknown +something within him that was craving for expansion. The dull +making up of prescriptions, the selling of tooth powder and babies' +feeding bottles—the deadly mechanical routine—he +remembered the daily revolt against it all. He remembered his +discovery of the old herbalists; his delight in their quaint +language; the remedies so extraordinary and yet so simple; his +first idea of combining these with the orthodox drugs of the +British Pharmacopoeia; his experiments; his talks with an aged man +who kept a dingy little shop of herbs on the outskirts of the town, +also called a pestilential fellow by the medical faculty of the +district, but a learned ancient all the same, who knew the +qualities of every herb that grew, and with some reeking mess of +pulp was said to have cured an old woman's malignant ulcer given up +as incurable by the faculty. He remembered the night when the old +man, grateful for the lad's interest in his learning, gave him +under vows of secrecy the recipe of this healing emulsion, which +was to become the basis of Sypher's Cure. In those days his +loneliness was cheered by a bulldog, an ugly, faithful beast whom +he called Barabbas—he sighed to think how many Barabbases had +lived and died since then—and who, contracting mange, became +the <i>corpus vile</i> of many experiments— first with the +old man's emulsion, then with the emulsion mixed with other drugs, +all bound together in pure animal fat, until at last he found a +mixture which to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id= +"Page_192"></a>[192]</span> joy made the sores heal and the skin +harden and the hair sprout and Barabbas grow sleek as a swell +mobsman in affluent circumstances. Then one day came His Grace of +Suffolk into the shop with a story of a pet of the Duchess's +stricken with the same disease. Sypher modestly narrated his own +experience and gave the mighty man a box of the new ointment. A +fortnight afterwards he returned. Not only had it cured the dog, +but it must have charmed away the eczema on his ducal hands. Full +of a wild surmise he tried it next on his landlady's child, who had +a sore on its legs, and lo! the sore healed. It was then that the +Divine Revelation came to him; it was then that he passed his +vigil, as he had told Zora, and consecrated himself and his Cure to +the service of humanity.</p> +<p>The steps, the struggles, the purchase of the chemist's +business, the early exploitation of the Cure, its gradual renown in +the district, the first whisperings of its fame abroad, thanks to +His Grace of Suffolk, the early advertising, the gradual growth, +the sale of the chemist's business, the establishment of "Sypher's +Cure" as a special business in the town, the transference to +London, the burst into world-wide fame—all the memories came +back to him, as he sat by the window of the Hôtel de l'Europe +and blinded his face with his hands.</p> +<p>He dashed them away, at last, with a passionate gesture.</p> +<p>"It can't be! It can't be!" he cried aloud, as many another man +has cried in the righteous rebellion of his heart against the +ironical decrees of the high gods whom his simple nature has never +suspected of their eternal and inscrutable irony.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span>CHAPTER +XV</h2> +<p>If you travel on the highroad which skirts the cliff-bound coast +of Normandy you may come to a board bearing the legend +"Hottetôt-sur-Mer" and a hand pointing down a narrow gorge. +If you follow the direction and descend for half a mile you come to +a couple of villas, a humble café, some fishermen's +cottages, one of which is also a general shop and a <i>débit +de tabac</i>, a view of a triangle of sea, and eventually to a +patch of shingly beach between two great bastions of cliffs. The +beach itself contains a diminutive jetty, a tiny fleet of fishing +smacks, some nets, three bathing machines joined together by ropes +on which hang a few towels and bathing costumes, a dog, a child or +so with spade and bucket, two English maiden ladies writing picture +post-cards, a Frenchman in black, reading a Rouen newspaper under a +gray umbrella, his wife and daughter, and a stall of mussels +presided over by an old woman with skin like seaweed. Just above +the beach, on one side of the road leading up the gorge, is a +miniature barn with a red cupola, which is the Casino, and, on the +other, a long, narrow, blue-washed building with the words written +in great black letters across the façade, "Hôtel de la +Plage."</p> +<p>As soon as Emmy could travel, she implored Septimus to find her +a quiet spot by the sea whither the fashionable do not resort. +Septimus naturally consulted Hégisippe Cruchot. +Hégisippe asked for time to consult his comrades. He +returned with news of an ideal spot. It was a village in the +Pyrenees about six thousand feet up in the<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> air and +forty miles from a railway station. They could shoot bears all day +long. When Emmy explained that a village on the top of the Pyrenees +was not by the seaside, and that neither she nor his aunt, Madame +Bolivard, took any interest in the destruction of bears, he retired +somewhat crestfallen and went with his difficulties to +Angélique, the young lady in the wine shop in the Rue des +Francs-Bouchers. Angélique informed him that a brave sailor +on leave from his torpedo boat was in the habit of visiting the +wine shop every evening. He ought to know something of the sea. A +meeting was arranged by Angélique between Hégisippe, +Septimus and the brave sailor, much to Emmy's skeptical amusement; +and the brave sailor, after absorbing prodigious quantities of +alcohol and reviewing all the places on the earth's coastline from +Yokohama to Paris-Plage, declared that the veritable Eden by the +Sea was none other than his native village of +Hottetôt-sur-Mer. He made a plan of it on the table, two +square packets of tobacco representing the cliffs, a pipe stem the +road leading up the gorge, some tobacco dust the beach, and some +coffee slops applied with the finger the English Channel.</p> +<p>Septimus came back to Emmy. "I have found the place. It is +Hottetôt-sur-Mer. It has one hotel. You can catch shrimps, +and its mussels are famous all over the world."</p> +<p>After consultation of a guide to Normandy, on which Emmy's +prudence insisted, they found the brave sailor's facts mainly +correct, and decided on Hottetôt-sur-Mer.</p> +<p>"I will take you there, see that you are comfortably settled, +and then come back to Paris," said Septimus. "You'll be quite happy +with Madame Bolivard, won't you?"</p> +<p>"Of course," said Emmy, looking away from him. "What are you +going to do in Paris, all by yourself?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id= +"Page_195"></a>[195]</span>Guns," he replied. Then he added +reflectively: "I also don't see how I can get out of the +Hôtel Godet. I've been there some time, and I don't know how +much to give the servants in tips. The only thing is to stay +on."</p> +<p>Emmy sighed, just a bit wistfully, and made no attempt to prove +the futility of his last argument. The wonderfully sweet of life +had come to her of late mingled with the unutterably bitter. She +was in the state of being when a woman accepts, without question. +Septimus then went to the St. Lazare station to make arrangements +and discovered an official who knew a surprising amount about +railway traveling and the means of bringing a family from domicile +to station. He entered Septimus's requirements in a book and +assured him that at the appointed hour an omnibus would be waiting +outside the house in the Boulevard Raspail. Septimus thought him a +person of marvelous intellect and gave him five francs.</p> +<p>So the quaint quartette started in comfort: Septimus and Emmy +and Madame Bolivard and the little lump of mortality which the +Frenchwoman carried in her great motherly arms. Madame Bolivard, +who had not been out of Paris for twenty years, needed all her +maternal instincts to subdue her excitement at the prospect of +seeing the open country and the sea. In the railway carriage she +pointed out cattle to the unconscious infant with the tremulous +quiver of the traveler who espies a herd of hippogriffin.</p> +<p>"Is it corn that, Monsieur? <i>Mon Dieu</i>, it is beautiful. +Regard then the corn, my cherished one."</p> +<p>But the cherished one cared not for corn or cattle. He preferred +to fix his cold eyes on Septimus, as if wondering what he was doing +in that galley. Now and again Septimus would bend forward and, with +a vague notion of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id= +"Page_196"></a>[196]</span> way to convey one's polite intentions +to babies, would prod him gingerly in the cheek and utter an insane +noise and then surreptitiously wipe his finger on his trousers. +When his mother took him she had little spasms of tenderness during +which she pressed him tightly to her bosom and looked frightened. +The child was precious to her. She had paid a higher price than +most women, and that perhaps enhanced its value.</p> +<p>At Fécamp a rusty ramshackle diligence awaited them. +Their luggage, together with hen-coops, baskets, bundles, +packing-cases, were piled on top in an amorphous heap. They took +their places inside together with an old priest and a peasant woman +in a great flapping cap. The old priest absorbed snuff in great +quantities and used a red handkerchief. The closed windows of the +vehicle rattled, it was very hot, and the antiquated cushions +smelled abominably. Emmy, tired of the railway journey and +suffocated by the heat, felt inclined to cry. This was her first +step into her newly conditioned world, and her heart sank. She +regretted her comfortable rooms in Paris and the conditions of +existence there of which Septimus was an integral part. She had got +used to them, to his forced association with the intimate details +of her life, to his bending over the child like a grotesque fairy +godfather and making astonishing suggestions for its upbringing. +She had regarded him less as a stranger to be treated with feminine +reserve than the doctor. Now it was different. She was about to +take up her own life again, with new responsibilities, and the +dearly loved creature whom she had bullied and laughed at and +leaned on would go away to take up his own queer way of life, and +the relations between them could not possibly be the same again. +The diligence was taking her on<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> the last stage of her +journey towards the new conditions, and it jolted and bumped and +smelled and took an interminable time.</p> +<p>"I'm sure," said she woefully, "there's no such place as +Hottetôt-sur-Mer, and we are going on forever to find +it."</p> +<p>Presently Septimus pointed triumphantly through the window.</p> +<p>"There it is!"</p> +<p>"Where?" cried Emmy, for not a house was in sight. Then she saw +the board.</p> +<p>The old diligence turned and creaked and swung and pitched down +the gorge. When they descended at the Hôtel de la Plage, the +setting sun blazed on their faces across the sea and shed its +golden enchantment over the little pebbly beach. At that hour the +only living thing on it was the dog, and he was asleep. It was a +spot certainly to which the fashionable did not resort.</p> +<p>"It will be good for baby."</p> +<p>"And for you."</p> +<p>She shrugged her shoulders. "What is good for one is not +always—" She paused, feeling ungrateful. Then she added, +"It's the best place you could have brought us to."</p> +<p>After dinner they sat on the beach and leaned against a +fishing-boat. It was full moon. The northern cliff cast its huge +shadow out to sea and half way across the beach. A knot of fisher +folk sat full in the moonlight on the jetty and sang a song with a +mournful refrain. Behind them in the square of yellow light of the +salon window could be seen the figures of the two English maiden +ladies apparently still addressing picture post-cards. The luminous +picture stood out sharp against the dark mass of the hotel. +Be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id= +"Page_198"></a>[198]</span>yond the shadow of the cliff the sea lay +like a silver mirror in the windless air. A tiny border of surf +broke on the pebbles. Emmy drew a long breath and asked Septimus if +he smelled the seaweed. The dog came and sniffed at their boots; +then from the excellent leather judging them to be persons above +his social station, he turned humbly away. Septimus called him, +made friends with him—he was a smooth yellow dog of no +account—and eventually he curled himself up between them and +went to sleep. Septimus smoked his pipe. Emmy played with the ear +of the dog and looked out to sea. It was very peaceful. After a +while she sighed.</p> +<p>"I suppose this must be our last evening together."</p> +<p>"I suppose it must," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"Are you quite sure you can afford all the money you're leaving +with me?"</p> +<p>"Of course. It comes out of the bank."</p> +<p>"I know that, you stupid," she laughed. "Where else could it +come from unless you kept it in a stocking? But the bank isn't an +unlimited gold-mine from which you can draw out as many handfuls as +you want."</p> +<p>Septimus knocked the ashes out of his pipe.</p> +<p>"People don't get sovereigns out of gold-mines. I wish they did. +They extract a bit of gold about the size of this pebble out of a +ton of quartz. I once bought shares in a gold-mine and there wasn't +any gold in it at all. I always used to be buying things like that. +People sold them to me. I was like Moses."</p> +<p>"Moses?"</p> +<p>"Oh, not <i>that</i> Moses. He could get anything out of +anything. He got water out of a rock. I mean the son of the Vicar +of Wakefield, who bought the green spectacles."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id= +"Page_199"></a>[199]</span>Oh," said Emmy, who after the way of her +generation had never heard of him.</p> +<p>"I don't do it—let people sell me things—any more, +now," he said gravely. "I seem to have got wise. Perhaps it has +come through having had to look after you. I see things much +clearer."</p> +<p>He filled and lit another pipe and began to talk about Orion +just visible over the shoulder of the cliff. Emmy, whose interests +were for the moment terrestrial, interrupted him:</p> +<p>"There's one thing I want you to see clearly, my dear, and that +is that I owe you a frightful lot of money. But I'm sure to get +something to do when I'm back in London and then I can repay you by +instalments. Remember, I'm not going to rest until I pay you +back."</p> +<p>"I sha'n't rest if you do," said Septimus, nervously. "Please +don't talk of it. It hurts me. I've done little enough in the +world, God knows. Give me this chance of—the Buddhists call +it 'acquiring merit.'"</p> +<p>This was not a new argument between them. Emmy had a small +income under her father's will, and the prospect of earning a +modest salary on the stage. She reckoned that she would have +sufficient to provide for herself and the child. Hitherto Septimus +had been her banker. Neither of them had any notion of the value of +money, and Septimus had a child's faith in the magic of the drawn +check. He would as soon have thought of measuring the portion of +whisky he poured out for a guest as of counting the money he +advanced to Emmy.</p> +<p>She took up his last words, and speaking in a low tone, as a +woman does when her pride has gone from her, she said:</p> +<p>"Haven't you acquired enough merit already, my dear?<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> Don't +you see the impossibility of my going on accepting things from you? +You seem to take it for granted that you're to provide for me and +the child for the rest of our lives. I've been a bad, unprincipled +fool of a girl, I know—yes, rotten bad; there are thousands +like me in London—"</p> +<p>Septimus rose to his feet.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't, Emmy, don't! I can't stand it."</p> +<p>She rose too and put her hands on his shoulders.</p> +<p>"You must let me speak to-night—our last night before we +part. It isn't generous of you not to listen."</p> +<p>The yellow dog, disturbed in his slumbers, shook himself, and +regarding them with an air of humble sympathy turned and walked +away discreetly into the shadow. The fisher folk on the jetty still +sang their mournful chorus.</p> +<p>"Sit down again."</p> +<p>Septimus yielded. "But why give yourself pain?" he asked +gently.</p> +<p>"To ease my heart. The knife does good. Yes, I know I've been +worthless. But I'm not as bad as that. Don't you see how horrible +the idea is to me? I must pay you back the money—and of +course not come on you for any more. You've done too much for me +already. It sometimes stuns me to think of it. It was only because +I was in hell and mad—and grasped at the hand you held out to +me. I suppose I've done you the biggest wrong a woman can do a man. +Now I've come to my senses, I shudder at what I've done."</p> +<p>"Why? Why?" said Septimus, growing miserably unhappy.</p> +<p>"How can you ever marry, unless we go through the vulgarity of a +collusive divorce?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id= +"Page_201"></a>[201]</span>My dear girl," said he, "what woman +would ever marry a preposterous lunatic like me?"</p> +<p>"There's not a woman living who ought not to have gone down on +her bended knees if she had married you."</p> +<p>"I should never have married," said he, laying his hand for a +moment reassuringly on hers.</p> +<p>"Who knows?" She gave a slight laugh. "Zora is only a woman like +the rest of us."</p> +<p>"Why talk of Zora?" he said quickly. "What has she to do with +it?"</p> +<p>"Everything. You don't suppose I don't know," she replied in a +low voice. "It was for her sake and not for mine."</p> +<p>He was about to speak when she put out her hand and covered his +mouth.</p> +<p>"Let me talk for a little."</p> +<p>She took up her parable again and spoke very gently, very +sensibly. The moonlight peacefulness was in her heart. It softened +the tone of her voice and reflected itself in unfamiliar +speech.</p> +<p>"I seem to have grown twenty years older," she said.</p> +<p>She desired on that night to make her gratitude clear to him, to +ask his pardon for past offenses. She had been like a hunted +animal; sometimes she had licked his hand and sometimes she had +scratched it. She had not been quite responsible. Sometimes she had +tried to send him away, for his own sake. For herself, she had been +terrified at the thought of losing him.</p> +<p>"Another man might have done what you did, out of chivalry; but +no other man but you would not have despised the woman. I deserved +it; but I knew you didn't despise me. You have been just the same +to me all through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id= +"Page_202"></a>[202]</span> as you were in the early days. It +braced me up and helped me to keep some sort of self-respect. That +was the chief reason why I could not let you go. Now all is over. I +am quite sane and as happy as I ever shall be. After to-night it +stands to reason we must each lead our separate lives. You can't do +anything more for me, and God knows, poor dear, I can't do anything +for you. So I want to thank you."</p> +<p>She put her arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek.</p> +<p>Septimus flushed. Her lips were soft and her breath was sweet. +No woman save his mother had ever kissed him. He turned and took +her hands.</p> +<p>"Let me accept that in full payment for everything. You want me +to go away happy, don't you?"</p> +<p>"My dear," she said, with a little catch in her voice, "if there +was anything in the world I could do to make you happy, short of +throwing baby to a tiger, I would do it."</p> +<p>Septimus took off his cap and brought his hair to its normal +perpendicularity. Emmy laughed.</p> +<p>"Dear me! What are you going to say?"</p> +<p>Septimus reflected for a moment.</p> +<p>"If I dine off a bloater in a soup-plate in the drawing-room, or +if my bed isn't made at six o'clock in the evening, and my house is +a cross between a pigsty and an ironmonger's shop, nobody minds. It +is only Septimus Dix's extraordinary habits. But if the woman who +is my wife in the eyes of the world—"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, I see," she said hurriedly. "I hadn't looked at it in +that light."</p> +<p>"The boy is going to Cambridge," he murmured. "Then I should +like him to go into Parliament. There are deuced<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> clever +fellows in Parliament. I met one in Venice two or three years ago. +He knew an awful lot of things. We spent an evening together on the +Grand Canal and he talked all the time most interestingly on the +drainage system of Barrow-in-Furness. I wonder how fellows get to +know about drains."</p> +<p>Emmy said: "Would it make you happy?"</p> +<p>From her tone he gathered that she referred to the subject of +contention between them and not to his thirst for sanitary +information.</p> +<p>"Of course it would."</p> +<p>"But how shall I ever repay you?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps once a year," he said. "You can settle up in full, as +you did just now."</p> +<p>There was a long silence and then Emmy remarked that it was a +heavenly night.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span>CHAPTER +XVI</h2> +<p>In the course of time Sypher returned to London to fight a +losing battle against the Powers of Darkness and derive whatever +inspiration he could from Zora's letters. He also called dutifully +at "The Nook" during his week-end visits to Penton Court, where he +found restfulness in the atmosphere of lavender. Mrs. Oldrieve +continued to regard him as a most superior person. Cousin Jane, as +became a gentlewoman of breeding, received him with +courtesy—but a courtesy marked by that shade of reserve which +is due from a lady of quality to the grandfatherless. If she had +not striven against the unregeneracy of mortal flesh she would have +disapproved of him offhand because she disapproved of Zora; but she +was a conscientious woman, and took great pride in overcoming +prejudices. She also collected pewter, the history of which Sypher, +during his years of self-education, had once studied, in the +confused notion that it was culture. All knowledge is good; from +the theory of quaternions to the way to cut a ham-frill. It is sure +to come in useful, somehow. An authority on Central African +dialects has been known to find them invaluable in altercations +with cabmen, and a converted burglar has, before now, become an +admirable house-agent. What Sypher, therefore, had considered +merely learned lumber in his head cemented his friendship with +Cousin Jane—or rather, to speak by the book, soldered it with +pewter. As for the Cure, however, she did not believe in it, and +told him so, roundly. She had been brought up to believe +in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id= +"Page_205"></a>[205]</span> doctors, the Catechism, the House of +Lords, the inequality of the sexes, and the Oldrieve family, and in +that faith she would live and die. Sypher bore her no malice. She +did not call the Cure pestilential quackery. He was beginning not +to despise the day of small things.</p> +<p>"It may be very good in its way," she said, "just as Liberalism +and Darwinism and eating in restaurants may be good things. But +they are not for me."</p> +<p>Cousin Jane's conversation provided him with much innocent +entertainment. Mrs. Oldrieve was content to talk about the weather, +and what Zora and Emmy used to like to eat when they were little +girls: subjects interesting in themselves but not conducive to +discussion. Cousin Jane was nothing if not argumentative. She held +views, expounded them, and maintained them. Nothing short of a +declaration from Jehovah bursting in glory through the sky could +have convinced her of error. Even then she would have been annoyed. +She profoundly disapproved of Emmy's marriage to Septimus, whom she +characterized as a doddering idiot. Sypher defended his friend +warmly. He also defended Wiggleswick at whose ways and habits the +good lady expressed unrestrained indignation. She could not have +spoken more disrespectfully of Antichrist.</p> +<p>"You mark my words," she said, "he'll murder them both in their +sleep."</p> +<p>Concerning Zora, too, she was emphatic.</p> +<p>"I am not one of those who think every woman ought to get +married; but if she can't conduct herself decently without a +husband, she ought to have one."</p> +<p>"But surely Mrs. Middlemist's conduct is irreproachable," said +Sypher.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id= +"Page_206"></a>[206]</span>Irreproachable? Do you think trapesing +about alone all over the earth—mixing with all sorts of +people she doesn't know from Adam, and going goodness knows where +and doing goodness knows what, and idling her life away, never +putting a darn in her stockings even—is irreproachable +conduct on the part of a young woman of Zora's birth and +appearance? The way she dresses must attract attention, wherever +she goes. It's supposed to be 'stylish' nowadays. In my time it was +immodest. When a young woman was forced to journey alone she made +herself as inconspicuous as possible. Zora ought to have a husband +to look after her. Then she could do as she liked—or as he +liked, which would be much the best thing for her."</p> +<p>"I happen to be in Mrs. Middlemist's confidence," said Sypher. +"She has told me many times that she would never marry again. Her +marriage—"</p> +<p>"Stuff and rubbish!" cried Cousin Jane. "You wait until the man +comes along who has made up his mind to marry her. It must be a big +strong man who won't stand any nonsense and will take her by the +shoulders and shake her. She'll marry him fast enough. We'll see +what happens to her in California."</p> +<p>"I hope she won't marry one of those dreadful creatures with +lassos," said Mrs. Oldrieve, whose hazy ideas of California were +based on hazier memories of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show which she +had seen many years ago in London.</p> +<p>"I hope Mrs. Middlemist won't marry at all," said Sypher, in a +tone of alarm.</p> +<p>"Why?" asked Cousin Jane.</p> +<p>She shot the question at him with almost a snarl. Sypher paused +for a moment or two before replying.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id= +"Page_207"></a>[207]</span>I should lose a friend," said he.</p> +<p>"Humph!" said Cousin Jane.</p> +<p>If the late Rev. Laurence Sterne had known Cousin Jane, +"Tristram Shandy" would have been the richer by a chapter on +"Humphs." He would have analyzed this particular one with a minute +delicacy beyond the powers of Clem Sypher through whose head rang +the echo of the irritating vocable for some time afterwards. It +meant something. It meant something uncomfortable. It was directly +leveled at himself and yet it seemed to sum up her previous +disparaging remarks about Zora. "What the dickens <i>did</i> she +mean by it?" he asked himself.</p> +<p>He came down to Nunsmere every week now, having given up his +establishment at Kilburn Priory and sold the house—"The +Kurhaus," as he had named it in his pride. A set of bachelor's +chambers in St. James's sheltered him during his working days in +London. He had also sold his motor-car; for retrenchment in +personal expenses had become necessary, and the purchase-money of +house and car were needed for the war of advertising which he was +waging against his rivals. These were days black with anxiety and +haunting doubt, illuminated now and then by Zora, who wrote +gracious letters of encouragement. He carried them about with him +like talismans.</p> +<p>Sometimes he could not realize that the great business he had +created could be on the brink of failure. The routine went on as +usual. At the works at Bermondsey the same activity apparently +prevailed as when the Cure had reached the hey-day of its fortune +some five years before. In the sweet-smelling laboratory gleaming +with white tiles and copper retorts, the white-aproned workmen +sorted and weighed and treated according to the secret recipe the +bun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id= +"Page_208"></a>[208]</span>dles of herbs that came in every day and +were stacked in pigeon-holes along the walls. In the boiling-sheds, +not so sweet-smelling, the great vats of fat bubbled and ran, +giving out to the cooling-troughs the refined white cream of which +the precious ointment was made. Beyond there was another laboratory +vast and clean and busy, where the healing ichor of the herbs was +mixed with the drugs and the cream. Then came the work-rooms where +rows of girls filled the celluloid boxes, one dabbing in the +well-judged quantity, another cutting it off clean to the level of +the top with a swift stroke of the spatula, another fitting on the +lid, and so on, in endless but fascinating monotony until the last +girl placed on the trolley by her side, waiting to carry it to the +packing-shed, the finished packet of Sypher's Cure as it would be +delivered to the world. Then there were the packing-sheds full of +deal cases for despatching the Cure to the four quarters of the +globe, some empty, some being filled, others stacked in readiness +for the carriers: a Babel of sounds, of hammering clamps, of +creaking barrows, of horses by the open doors rattling their heavy +harness and trampling the flagstones with their heavy hoofs; a +ceaseless rushing of brawny men in sackcloth aprons, of dusty men +with stumps of pencils and note-books and crumpled invoices, +counting and checking and reporting to other men in narrow glass +offices against the wall. Outside stood the great wagons laden with +the white deal boxes bound with iron hoops and bearing in vermilion +letters the inscription of Sypher's Cure.</p> +<p>Every detail of this complicated hive was as familiar to him as +his kitchen was to his cook. He had planned it all, organized it +all. Every action of every human creature in the place from the +skilled pharmaceutist responsible for the<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> +preparation of the ointment to the grimy boy who did odd jobs about +the sheds had been pre-conceived by him, had had its mainspring in +his brain. Apart from idealistic aspirations concerned with the +Cure itself, the perfecting of this machinery of human activity had +been a matter of absorbing interest, its perfection a subject of +honorable pride.</p> +<p>He walked through the works day after day, noting the familiar +sights and sounds, pausing here and there lovingly, as a man does +in his garden to touch some cherished plant or to fill himself with +the beauty of some rare flower. The place was inexpressibly dear to +him. That those furnaces should ever grow cold, that those vats +should ever be empty, that those two magic words should cease to +blaze on the wooden boxes, should fade from the sight of man, that +those gates should ever be shut, seemed to transcend imagination. +The factory had taken its rank with eternal, unchanging things, +like the solar system and the Bank of England. Yet he knew only too +well that there had been change in the unchanging and in his soul +dwelt a sickening certainty that the eternal would be the +transient. Gradually the staff had been reduced, the output +lessened. Already two of the long tables once filled with girls +stood forlornly empty.</p> +<p>His comfortably appointed office in Moorgate Street told the +same story. Week after week the orders slackened and gradually the +number of the clerks had shrunk. Gloom settled permanently on the +manager's brow. He almost walked on tiptoe into Sypher's room and +spoke to him in a hushed whisper, until rebuked for dismalness.</p> +<p>"If you look like that, Shuttleworth, I shall cry."</p> +<p>On another occasion Shuttleworth said:</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id= +"Page_210"></a>[210]</span>We are throwing money away on +advertisements. The concern can't stand it."</p> +<p>Sypher turned, blue pencil in hand, from the wall where draft +proofs of advertisements were pinned for his correction and +master's touch. This was a part of the business that he loved. It +appealed to the flamboyant in his nature. It particularly pleased +him to see omnibuses pass by bearing the famous "Sypher's Cure," an +enlargement of his own handwriting, in streaming letters of +blood.</p> +<p>"We're going to double them," said he; and his air was that of +the racing Mississippi captains of old days who in response to the +expostulation of their engineers sent a little nigger boy to sit on +the safety-valve.</p> +<p>The dismal manager turned up his eyes to heaven with the air of +the family steward in Hogarth's "Mariage à la Mode." He had +not his chief's Napoleonic mind; but he had a wife and a large +family. Clem Sypher also thought of that—not only of +Shuttleworth's wife and family, but also of the wives and families +of the many men in his employ. It kept him awake at nights.</p> +<p>In the soothing air of Nunsmere, however, he slept, in long dead +stretches, as a tired man sleeps, in spite of trains which +screeched past the bottom of his lawn. Their furious unrest +enhanced the peace of village things. He began to love the little +backwater of the earth whose stillness calmed the fever of life. As +soon as he stepped out on to the platform at Ripstead a cool hand +seemed to touch his forehead, and charm away the cares that made +his temples throb. At Nunsmere he gave himself up to the +simplicities of the place. He took to strolling, like Septimus, +about the common and made friends with the lame donkey. On Sunday +mornings he went to church. He had first found<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span> himself +there out of curiosity, for, though not an irreligious man, he was +not given to pious practices; but afterwards he had gone on account +of the restfulness of the rural service. His mind essentially +reverend took it very seriously, just as it took seriously the +works of a great poet which he could not understand or any alien +form of human aspiration; even the parish notices and the +publication of banns he received with earnest attention. His +intensity of interest as he listened to the sermon sometimes +flattered the mild vicar, and at other times—when thinness of +argument pricked his conscience—alarmed him considerably. But +Sypher would not have dared enter into theological disputation. He +took the sermon as he took the hymns, in which he joined lustily. +Cousin Jane, whom he invariably met with Mrs. Oldrieve after the +service and escorted home, had no such scruples. She tore the +vicar's theology into fragments and scattered them behind her as +she walked, like a hare in a paper chase.</p> +<p>Said the Literary Man from London, who had strolled with them on +one of these occasions:</p> +<p>"The good lady's one of those women who speak as if they had a +relation who had married a high official in the Kingdom of Heaven +and now and then gave them confidential information."</p> +<p>Sypher liked Rattenden because he could often put into a phrase +his own unformulated ideas. He also belonged to a world to which he +himself was a stranger, the world of books and plays and +personalities and theories of art. Sypher thought that its denizens +lived on a lofty plane.</p> +<p>"The atmosphere," said Rattenden, "is so rarified that the +kettle refuses to boil properly. That is why we always have cold +tea at literary gatherings. My dear fellow, it's a<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> damned +world. It talks all day and does nothing all night. The ragged +Italian in front of the fresco in his village church or at the back +of the gallery at the opera of his town knows more essentials of +painting and music than any of us. It's a hollow sham of a world +filled with empty words. I love it."</p> +<p>"Then why abuse it?" laughed Sypher.</p> +<p>"Because it's a wanton and the wanton angers you and fascinates +you at the same time. You never know how to take her. You are aware +she hasn't got a heart, but her lips are red. She is unreal. She +holds views in defiance of common sense. Which is the nobler thing +to do—to dig potatoes or paint a man digging potatoes? She +swears to you that the digger is a clod of earth and the painter a +handful of heaven. She is talking rot. You know it. Yet you believe +her."</p> +<p>Sypher was not convinced by the airy paradoxician. He had a +childish idea that painters and novelists and actors were superior +beings. Rattenden found this Arcadian and cultivated Sypher's +society. They took long walks together on Sunday afternoons.</p> +<p>"After all," said Rattenden, "I can speak freely. I am a pariah +among my kind."</p> +<p>Sypher asked why.</p> +<p>"Because I don't play golf. In London it is impossible to be +seriously regarded as a literary man unless you play golf."</p> +<p>He found Sypher a good listener. He loved to catch a theory of +life, hold it in his hand like a struggling bird while he +discoursed about it, and let it go free into the sunshine again. +Sypher admired his nimbleness of mind.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id= +"Page_213"></a>[213]</span>You juggle with ideas as the fellows on +the stage do with gilt balls."</p> +<p>"It's a game I learned," said Rattenden. "It's very useful. It +takes one's mind off the dull question of earning bread and butter +for a wife and five children."</p> +<p>"I wish you'd teach it to me," said Sypher. "I've many wives and +many children dependent on me for bread and butter!"</p> +<p>Rattenden was quick to note the tone of depression. He laughed +kindly.</p> +<p>"Looking on is just as good. When you're worried in London why +don't you look me up? My wife and I will play the game for you. +She's an amusing body. Heaven knows how I should have got through +without her. She also swears by Sypher's Cure."</p> +<p>So they became friends. Sypher, since the blistered heel +episode, had lost his fearless way of trumpeting the Cure far and +wide, having a nervous dread of seeing the <i>p</i> and <i>q</i> of +the hateful words form themselves on the lips of a companion. He +became subdued, and spoke only of travel and men and things, of +anything but the Cure. He preferred to listen and, as Rattenden +preferred to talk, he found conversation a simple matter. Rattenden +was an amusing anecdotist and had amassed a prodigious amount of +raw material for his craft. To the collector, by some unknown law +of attraction, come the objects which he collects. Everywhere he +goes he finds them to his hand, as Septimus's friend found the Toby +jugs. Wherever Rattenden turned, a bit of gossip met his ear. Very +few things, therefore, happened in literary and theatrical London +which did not come inevitably to his knowledge. He could have +wrecked many homes and pricked many reputations. As<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> a man +of the world, however, he used his knowledge with discretion, and +as an artist in anecdote he selected fastidiously. He seldom +retailed a bit of gossip for its own sake; when he did so he had a +purpose.</p> +<p>One evening they dined together at Sypher's club, a great +semi-political institution with many thousand members. He had +secured, however, a quiet table in a corner of the dining-room +which was adorned with full-length portraits of self-conscious +statesmen. Sypher unfolded his napkin with an air of +satisfaction.</p> +<p>"I've had good news to-day. Mrs. Middlemist is on her way +home."</p> +<p>"You have the privilege of her friendship," said Rattenden. +"You're to be envied. <i>O fortunate nimium</i>."</p> +<p>He preserved some of the Oxford tradition in tone and manner. He +had brown hair turning gray, a drooping mustache and wore pince-nez +secured by a broad black cord. Being very short-sighted his eyes +seen through the thick lenses were almost expressionless.</p> +<p>"Zora Middlemist," said he, squeezing lemon over his oysters, +"is a grand and splendid creature whom I admire vastly. As I never +lose an opportunity of telling her that she is doing nothing with +her grand and splendid qualities, I suffer under the ban of her +displeasure."</p> +<p>"What do you think she ought to do with them?" asked Sypher.</p> +<p>"It's a difficult and delicate matter to discuss a woman with +another man; especially—" he waved a significant hand. "But +I, in my little way, have written a novel or two—studies of +women. I speak therefore as an expert. Now, just as a painter can't +correctly draw the draped figure unless he has an anatomical +knowledge of the limbs be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" +id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span>neath, so is a novelist unable to +present the character of a woman with sincerity and verisimilitude +unless he has taken into account all the hidden physiological +workings of that woman's nature. He must be familiar with the +workings of the sex principle within her, although he need not show +them in his work, any more than the painter shows the anatomy. +Analyzing thus the imaginary woman, one forms a habit of analyzing +the real woman in whom one takes an interest—or rather one +does it unconsciously." He paused. "I told you it was rather +delicate. You see what I'm trying to get at? Zora Middlemist is +driven round the earth like Io by the gadfly of her temperament. +She's seeking the Beauty or Meaning or Fulfilment, or whatever she +chooses to call it, of Life. What she's really looking for is +Love."</p> +<p>"I don't believe it," said Sypher.</p> +<p>Rattenden shrugged his shoulders. "It's true all the same. But +in her case it's the great love—the big thing for the big +man—the gorgeous tropical sunshine in which all the splendor +of her can develop. No little man will move her. She draws them all +round her—that type has an irresistible atmosphere—but +she passes them by with her magnificent head in the air. She is +looking all the time for the big man. The pathetic comedy of it is +that she is as innocent and as unconscious of the object of her +search as the flower that opens its heart to the bee bearing the +pollen on its wings. I'm not infallible as a general rule. In this +case I am."</p> +<p>He hastened to consume his soup which had got cold during his +harangue.</p> +<p>"You've mixed much with women and studied them," said Sypher. "I +haven't. I was engaged to a girl once,<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> but it +was a tepid affair. She broke it off because it was much more vital +to me to work in my laboratory than to hold her hand in her +mother's parlor. No doubt she was right. This was in the early days +when I was experimenting with the Cure. Since then I've been a man +of one idea. It has absorbed all my soul and energies, so that I've +had none to spare for women. Here and there, of course—"</p> +<p>"I know. The trifling things. They are part of the banquet of +life. One eats and forgets."</p> +<p>Sypher glanced at him and nodded his appreciation of the +Literary Man's neat way of putting things. But he did not reply. He +ate his fish in silence, hardly tasting it, his mind far away +following Zora Middlemist across the seas. A horrible, jealous +hatred of the big man for whom she sought sprang up in his heart. +His pink face flushed red.</p> +<p>"This <i>sole bonne femme</i> is excellent," said Rattenden.</p> +<p>Sypher started in confusion, and praised the chef, and talked +gastronomy while his thoughts were with Zora. He remembered the +confession of Septimus Dix in Paris. Septimus had been caught in +the irresistible atmosphere. He loved her, but he was one of the +little men and she had passed him by with her magnificent head in +the air. The gastronomic talk languished. Presently Rattenden +said:</p> +<p>"One of the feminine phenomena that has puzzled me most of late +has been the marriage of her sister to Septimus Dix."</p> +<p>Sypher laid down his knife and fork.</p> +<p>"How extraordinary that you should mention it! He was in my mind +as you spoke."</p> +<p>"I was thinking of the sister," said Rattenden. "She has Mrs. +Middlemist's temperament without her force of<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span> +character—the sex without the splendor. I heard a very +curious thing about her only yesterday."</p> +<p>"What was it?"</p> +<p>"It was one of those things that are not told."</p> +<p>"Tell me," said Sypher, earnestly. "I have reasons for asking. I +am convinced there are circumstances of which neither Mrs. Dix's +mother nor sister know anything. I'm a loyal man. You may trust +me."</p> +<p>"Very well," said Rattenden. "Have you ever heard of a man +called Mordaunt Prince? Yes—a well-known actor—about +the biggest blackguard that disgraces the stage. He was leading man +at the theater where she last played. They were doing 'The Widow of +Ware.' They were about a great deal together. It was common gossip +at the time."</p> +<p>"Gossip is notoriously uncharitable," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"If charity covers a multitude of sins, uncharitableness has the +advantage of uncovering them. The <i>pudor britannicus</i>, +however, is responsible for uncovering the one I am going to tell +you of. About two or three months before the marriage, Emmy +Oldrieve and Mordaunt Prince were staying together at an hotel in +Tunbridge Wells. There was no mistake about it. There they were. +They had a motor with them. A week before the Dix marriage was +announced Mordaunt Prince married a Mrs. Morris—old Sol +Morris, the money-lender's widow."</p> +<p>Sypher stared at him.</p> +<p>"It's one of the least amazing of human phenomena," said +Rattenden, cynically. "I'm only puzzled at Calypso being so soon +able to console herself for the departure of Ulysses, and taking up +with such a dreamy-headed shadow of a man as our friend Dix. The +end of the Mordaunt Prince story is that he soon grew too much for +the widow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id= +"Page_218"></a>[218]</span> who has pensioned him off, and now he +is drinking himself to death in Naples."</p> +<p>"Emmy Oldrieve! Good God, is it possible?" cried Sypher, +absently pushing aside the dish the waiter handed him.</p> +<p>Rattenden carefully helped himself to partridge and orange +salad.</p> +<p>"It's not only possible, but unquestionable fact. You see," he +added complacently, "nothing can happen without its coming sooner +or later to me. My informant was staying at the hotel all the time. +You will allow me to vouch absolutely for her veracity."</p> +<p>Sypher did not speak for some moments. The large dining-room +with its portraits of self-conscious statesmen faded away and +became a little street in Paris, one side in shade and the other +baking in the sun; and at a little iron table sat a brown and +indiscreet Zouave and Septimus Dix, pale, indecisive, with a +wistful appeal in his washed-out blue eyes. Suddenly he regained +consciousness, and, more for the sake of covering his loss of +self-possession than for that of eating, he recalled the waiter and +put some partridge on his plate. Then he looked across the table at +his guest and said very sternly:</p> +<p>"I look to you to prevent this story going any further."</p> +<p>"I've already made it my duty to do so," said Rattenden.</p> +<p>Sypher helped his guest to wine.</p> +<p>"I hope you like this Roederer," said he. "It's the only +exquisite wine in the club, and unfortunately there are not more +than a few bottles left. I had seven dozen of the same +<i>cuvée</i> in my cellar at Priory Park—if anything, +in better condition. I had to sell it with the rest of the things +when I gave up the house. It went to my heart. Cham<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span>pagne is +the only wine I understand. There was a time when it stood as a +symbol to me of the unattainable. Now that I can drink it when I +will, I know that all the laws of philosophy forbid its having any +attraction for me. Thank heaven I'm not dyspeptic enough in soul to +be a philosopher and I'm grateful for my aspirations. I cultivated +my taste for champagne out of sheer gratitude."</p> +<p>"Any wise man," said Rattenden, "can realize his dreams. It +takes something much higher than wisdom to enjoy the +realization."</p> +<p>"What is that?"</p> +<p>"The heart of a child," said Rattenden. He smiled in his +inscrutable way behind his thick lenses, and sipped his champagne. +"Truly a delicious wine," said he.</p> +<p>Sypher said good-by to his guest on the steps of the club, and +walked home to his new chambers in St. James's deep in thought. For +the first time since his acquaintance with Rattenden, he was glad +to part from him. He had a great need of solitude. It came to him +almost as a shock to realize that things were happening in the +world round about him quite as heroic, in the eyes of the High +Gods, as the battle between Sypher's Cure and Jebusa Jones's +Cuticle Remedy. The curtain of life had been lifted, and a flash of +its inner mysteries had been revealed. His eyes still were dazed. +But he had received the gift of vision. He had seen beyond doubt or +question the heart of Septimus Dix. He knew what he had done, why +he had done it.</p> +<p>Zora Middlemist had passed Septimus by with her magnificent head +in the air. But he was not one of the little men.</p> +<p>"By God, he is not!" he cried aloud, and the cry came from his +depths.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id= +"Page_220"></a>[220]</span>Zora Middlemist had passed him, Clem +Sypher, by with her magnificent head in the air.</p> +<p>He let himself into his chambers; they struck him as being chill +and lonely, the casual, uncared-for hiding-place of one of the +little men. He stirred the fire, almost afraid to disturb the cold +silence by the rattle of the poker against the bars of the grate. +His slippers were set in readiness on the hearth-rug, and the +machine who valeted him had fitted them with boot-trees. He put +them on, and unlocking his desk, took out the letter which he had +received that morning from Zora.</p> +<p>"For you," she wrote, "I want victory all along the +line—the apotheosis of Sypher's Cure on Earth. For myself, I +don't know what I want. I wish you would tell me."</p> +<p>Clem Sypher sat in an arm-chair and looked into the fire until +it went out. For the first time in his life he did not know what he +wanted.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span>CHAPTER +XVII</h2> +<p>The days that followed were darkened by overwhelming anxieties, +so that he speculated little as to the Ultimately Desired. A +chartered accountant sat in the office at Moorgate Street and shed +around him the gloom of statistics. Unless a miracle happened the +Cure was doomed.</p> +<p>It is all very well to seat a little nigger on the safety-valve +if the end of the journey is in sight. The boiler may just last out +the strain. But to suppose that he will sit there in permanent +security to himself and the ship for an indefinite time is an +optimism unwarranted by the general experience of this low world. +Sypher's Cure could not stand the strain of the increased +advertisement. Shuttleworth found a dismal pleasure in the +fulfilment of his prophecy. A reduction in price had not materially +affected the sales. The Jebusa Jones people had lowered the price +of the Cuticle Remedy and still undersold the Cure. During the year +the Bermondsey works had been heavily mortgaged. The money had all +been wasted on a public that had eyes and saw not, that had ears +and heard not the simple gospel of the Friend of +Humanity—"Try Sypher's Cure." In the midst of the gloom +Shuttleworth took the opportunity of deprecating the unnecessary +expense of production, never having so greatly dared before. Only +the best and purest materials had been possible for the divine +ointment. By using second qualities, a great saving could be +effected without impairing the efficacy of the Cure. Thus +Shuttle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id= +"Page_222"></a>[222]</span>worth. Sypher blazed into holy anger, as +if he had been counseled to commit sacrilege.</p> +<p>Radical reforms were imperative, if the Cure was to be saved. He +spent his nights over vast schemes only to find the fatal flaw in +the cold light of the morning. This angered him. It seemed that the +sureness of his vision had gone. Something strange, uncanny had +happened within him, he knew not what. It had nothing to do with +his intellectual force, his personal energy. It had nothing to do +with his determination to win through and restore the Cure to its +former position in the market. It was something subtle, +spiritual.</p> +<p>The memory of the blistered heel lived with him. The slight +doubt cast by Septimus on Zora's faith remained disturbingly at the +back of his mind. Yet he clung passionately to his belief. If it +were not Heaven-sent, then was he of men most miserable.</p> +<p>Never had he welcomed the sight of Nunsmere more than the next +Saturday afternoon when the trap turned off the highroad and the +common came into view. The pearls and faint blues of the sky, the +tender mist softening the russet of the autumn trees, the gray +tower of the little church, the red roofs of the cottages dreaming +in their old-world gardens, the quiet green of the common with the +children far off at play and the lame donkey watching them in +philosophic content—all came like the gift of a very calm and +restful God to the tired man's eyes.</p> +<p>He thought to himself: "It only lacks one figure walking across +the common to meet me." Then the thought again: "If she were there +would I see anything else?"</p> +<p>At Penton Court the maid met him at the door.</p> +<p>"Mr. Dix is waiting to see you, sir."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id= +"Page_223"></a>[223]</span>Mr. Dix! Where is he?"</p> +<p>"In the drawing-room. He has been waiting a couple of +hours."</p> +<p>He threw off his hat and coat, delighted, and rushed in to +welcome the unexpected guest. He found Septimus sitting in the +twilight by the French window that opened on the lawn, and making +elaborate calculations in a note-book.</p> +<p>"My dear Dix!" He shook him warmly by the hand and clapped him +on the shoulder. "This is more than a pleasure. What have you been +doing with yourself?"</p> +<p>Septimus said, holding up the note-book:</p> +<p>"I was just trying to work out the problem whether a boy's +expenses from the time he begins feeding-bottles to the time he +leaves the University increases by arithmetical or geometrical +progression."</p> +<p>Sypher laughed. "It depends, doesn't it, on his taste for +luxuries?"</p> +<p>"This one is going to be extravagant, I'm afraid," said +Septimus. "He cuts his teeth on a fifteenth-century Italian ivory +carving of St. John the Baptist—I went into a shop to buy a +purse and they gave it to me instead—and turns up his nose at +coral and bells. There isn't much of it to turn up. I've never seen +a child with so little nose. I invented a machine for elongating +it, but his mother won't let me use it."</p> +<p>Sypher expressed his sympathy with Mrs. Dix, and inquired after +her health. Septimus reported favorably. She had passed a few weeks +at Hottetôt-sur-Mer, which had done her good. She was now in +Paris under the mothering care of Madame Bolivard, where she would +stay until she cared to take up her residence in her flat in +Chelsea, which was now free from tenants.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id= +"Page_224"></a>[224]</span>And you?" asked Sypher.</p> +<p>"I've just left the Hôtel Godet and come back to Nunsmere. +Perhaps I'll give up the house and take Wiggleswick to London when +Emmy returns. She promised to look for a flat for me. I believe +women are rather good at finding flats."</p> +<p>Sypher handed him a box of cigars. He lit one and held it +awkwardly with the tips of his long, nervous fingers. He passed the +fingers of his other hand, with the familiar gesture, up his +hair.</p> +<p>"I thought I'd come and see you," he said hesitatingly, "before +going to 'The Nook.' There are explanations to be made. My wife and +I are good friends, but we can't live together. It's all my fault. +I make the house intolerable. I—I have an ungovernable +temper, you know, and I'm harsh and unloving and disagreeable. And +it's bad for the child. We quarrel dreadfully—at least, she +doesn't."</p> +<p>"What about?" Sypher asked gravely.</p> +<p>"All sorts of things. You see, if I want breakfast an hour +before dinner-time, it upsets the household. Then there was the +nose machine—and other inventions for the baby, which perhaps +might kill it. You can explain all this and tell them that the +marriage has been a dreadful mistake on poor Emmy's side, and that +we've decided to live apart. You will do this for me, won't +you?"</p> +<p>"I can't say I'll do it with pleasure," said Sypher, "for I'm +more than sorry to hear your news. I suspected as much when I met +you in Paris. But I'll see Mrs. Oldrieve as soon as possible and +explain."</p> +<p>"Thank you," said Septimus; "you don't know what a service you +would be rendering me."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id= +"Page_225"></a>[225]</span>He uttered a sigh of relief and relit +his cigar which had gone out during his appeal. Then there was a +silence. Septimus looked dreamily out at the row of trees that +marked the famous lawn reaching down to the railway line. The mist +had thickened with the fall of the day and hung heavy on the +branches, and the sky was gray. Sypher watched him, greatly moved; +tempted to cry out that he knew all, that he was not taken in by +the simple legend of his ungovernable temper and unlovely +disposition. His heart went out to him, as to a man who dwelt alone +on lofty heights, inaccessible to common humanity. He was filled +with pity and reverence for him. Perhaps he exaggerated. But Sypher +was an idealist. Had he not set Sypher's Cure as the sun in his +heaven and Zora as one of the fixed stars?</p> +<p>It grew dark. Sypher rang for the lamp and tea.</p> +<p>"Or would you like breakfast?" he asked laughingly.</p> +<p>"I've just had supper," said Septimus. "Wiggleswick found some +cheese in a cupboard. I buried it in the front garden." A vague +smile passed on his face like a pale gleam of light over water on a +cloudy day. "Wiggleswick is deaf. He couldn't hear it."</p> +<p>"He's a lazy scoundrel," said Sypher. "I wonder you don't sack +him."</p> +<p>Septimus licked a hanging strip of cigar-end into +position—he could never smoke a cigar properly—and lit +it for the third time.</p> +<p>"Wiggleswick is good for me," said he. "He keeps me human. I am +apt to become a machine. I live so much among them. I've been +working hard on a new gun—or rather an old gun. It's field +artillery, quick-firing. I got on to the idea again from a sighting +apparatus I invented.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id= +"Page_226"></a>[226]</span> I have the specification in my pocket. +The model is at home. I brought it from Paris."</p> +<p>He fetched a parcel of manuscript from his pocket and unrolled +it into flatness.</p> +<p>"I should like to show it to you. Do you mind?"</p> +<p>"It would interest me enormously," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"I invent all sorts of things. I can't help it. But I always +come back to guns—I don't know why. I hope you've done +nothing further with the guns of large caliber. I've been thinking +about them seriously, and I find they're all moonshine."</p> +<p>He smiled with wan cheerfulness at the waste of the labor of +years. Sypher, on whose conscience the guns had laid their two +hundred ton weight, felt greatly relieved. Their colossal scale had +originally caught his imagination which loved big conceptions. +Their working had seemed plausible to his inexpert eye. He had gone +with confidence to his friend, the expert on naval gunnery, who had +reported on them in breezy, sea-going terms of disrespect. Since +then he had shrunk from destroying his poor friend's illusions.</p> +<p>"Yes, they're all unmanageable. I see what's wrong with +them—but I've lost my interest in naval affairs." He paused +and added dreamily: "I was horribly seasick crossing the Channel +this time.</p> +<p>"Let us have a look at the field-gun," said Sypher +encouragingly. Remembering the naval man's language, he had little +hope that Septimus would be more successful by land than by sea; +but his love and pity for the inventor compelled interest. +Septimus's face brightened.</p> +<p>"This," said he, "is quite a different thing. You see I know +more about it."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id= +"Page_227"></a>[227]</span>That's where the bombardier comes in," +laughed Sypher.</p> +<p>"I shouldn't wonder," replied Septimus.</p> +<p>He spread the diagram on a table, and expounded the gun. +Absorbed in his explanation he lost the drowsy incertitude of his +speech and the dreaminess of his eyes. He spoke with rapidity, +sureness, and a note of enthusiasm rang oddly in his voice. On the +margins he sketched illustrations of the Gatling, the Maxim, and +the Hotchkiss and other guns, and demonstrated the superior +delicate deadliness of his own. It could fire more rounds per +minute than any other piece of artillery known to man. It could +feed itself automatically from a magazine. The new sighting +apparatus made it as accurate as a match rifle. Its power of +massacre was unparalleled in the history of wholesale slaughter. A +child might work it.</p> +<p>Septimus's explanation was too lucid for a man of Sypher's +intelligence not to grasp the essentials of his invention. To all +his questions Septimus returned satisfactory answers. He could find +no flaw in the gun. Yet in his heart he felt that the expert would +put his finger on the weak spot and consign the machine to the +limbo of phantasmagoric artillery.</p> +<p>"If it is all you say, there's a fortune in it," said he.</p> +<p>"There's no shadow of doubt about it," replied Septimus. "I'll +send Wiggleswick over with the model to-morrow, and you can see for +yourself."</p> +<p>"What are you going to do with it?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said Septimus, in his usual manner. "I never +know what to do with things when I invent them. I once knew a man +in the Patent Office who patented things for me. But he's married +now and gone to live in Balham."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id= +"Page_228"></a>[228]</span>But he's still at the Patent +Office?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps he is," said Septimus. "It never occurred to me. But it +has never done me any good to have things patented. One has to get +them taken up. Some of them are drunk and disorderly enough for +them to be taken up at once," he added with his pale smile. He +continued: "I thought perhaps you would replace the big-caliber +guns in our contract by this one."</p> +<p>Sypher agreed with pleasure to the proposal. He knew a high +military official in the Ordnance Department of the War Office who +would see that the thing was properly considered. "If he's in town +I'll go and see him at once."</p> +<p>"There's no hurry," said Septimus. "I shouldn't like you to put +yourself out. I know you're a very busy man. Go in any time you +happen to be passing. You are there pretty often: now, I +suppose."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"My friend Hégisippe Cruchot gave you an idea in +Paris—about soldiers' feet. How is it developing?"</p> +<p>Sypher made a wry face. "I found, my dear Dix, it was like your +guns of large caliber." He rose and walked impatiently about the +room. "Don't let us talk about the Cure, there's a dear fellow. I +come down here to forget it."</p> +<p>"Forget it?"</p> +<p>Septimus stared at him in amazement.</p> +<p>"Yes. To clear my mind and brain of it. To get a couple of +nights' sleep after the rest of the week's nightmare. The concern +is going to hell as fast as it can, and"—he stopped in front +of Septimus and brought down his hands in a passionate +gesture—"I can't believe it. I can't believe it! What I'm +going through God only knows."</p> +<p>"I at least had no notion," said Septimus. "And I've<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span> been +worrying you with my silly twaddle about babies and guns."</p> +<p>"It's a godsend for me to hear of anything save ruin and the +breaking up of all that was dear to me in life. It's not like +failure in an ordinary business. It has been infinitely more than a +business to me. It has been a religion. It is still. That's why my +soul refuses to grasp facts and figures."</p> +<p>He went on, feeling a relief in pouring out his heart to one who +could understand. To no one had he thus spoken. With an expansive +nature he had the strong man's pride. To the world in general he +turned the conquering face of Clem Sypher, the Friend of Humanity, +of Sypher's Cure. To Septimus alone had he shown the man in his +desperate revolt against defeat. The lines around his mouth +deepened into lines of pain, and pain lay behind his clear eyes and +in the knitting of his brows.</p> +<p>"I believed the Almighty had put an instrument for the relief of +human suffering into my hands. I dreamed great dreams. I saw all +the nations of the earth blessing me. I know I was a damned fool. +So are you. So is every visionary. So are the apostles, the +missionaries, the explorers—all who dream great +dreams—all damned fools, but a glorious company all the same. +I'm not ashamed to belong to it. But there comes a time when the +apostle finds himself preaching to the empty winds, and the +explorer discovers his El Dorado to be a barren island, and he +either goes mad or breaks his heart, and which of the two I'm going +to do I don't know. Perhaps both."</p> +<p>"Zora Middlemist will be back soon," said Septimus. "She is +coming by the White Star line, and she ought to be in Marseilles by +the end of next week."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id= +"Page_230"></a>[230]</span>She writes me that she may winter in +Egypt. That is why she chose the White Star line," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"Have you told her what you've told me?"</p> +<p>"No," said Sypher, "and I never shall while there's a hope left. +She knows it's a fight. But I tell her—as I have told my +damned fool of a soul—that I shall conquer. Would you like to +go to her and say, 'I'm done—I'm beaten'? Besides, I'm +not."</p> +<p>He turned and poked the fire, smashing a great lump of coal with +a stroke of his muscular arm as if it had been the skull of the +Jebusa Jones dragon. Septimus twirled his small mustache and his +hand inevitably went to his hair. He had the scared look he always +wore at moments when he was coming to a decision.</p> +<p>"But you would like to see Zora, wouldn't you?" he asked.</p> +<p>Sypher wheeled round, and the expression on his face was that of +a prisoner in the Bastille who had been asked whether he would like +a summer banquet beneath the trees of Fontainebleau.</p> +<p>"You know that very well," said he.</p> +<p>He laid down the poker and crossed the room to a chair.</p> +<p>"I've often thought of what you said in Paris about her going +away. You were quite right. You have a genius for saying and doing +the simple right thing. We almost began our friendship by your +saying it. Do you remember? It was in Monte Carlo. You remember +that you didn't like my looking on Mrs. Middlemist as an +advertisement. Oh, you needn't look uncomfortable, my dear fellow. +I loved you for it. In Paris you practically told me that I +oughtn't to regard her as a kind of fetich for the Cure, and claim +her bodily presence. You also put before me the<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> fact +that there was no more reason for her to believe in the Cure than +yourself or Hégisippe Cruchot. If you could tell me anything +more," said he earnestly, "I should value it."</p> +<p>What he expected to learn from Septimus he did not know. But +once having exalted him to inaccessible heights, the indomitable +idealist was convinced that from his lips would fall words of +gentle Olympian wisdom. Septimus, blushing at his temerity in +having pointed out the way to the man whom he regarded as the +incarnation of force and energy, curled himself up awkwardly in his +chair, clasping his ankles between his locked fingers. At last the +oracle spoke.</p> +<p>"If I were you," he said, "before going mad or breaking my +heart, I should wait until I saw Zora."</p> +<p>"Very well. It will be a long time. Perhaps so much the better. +I shall remain sane and heart-whole all the longer."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>After dinner Sypher went round to "The Nook," and executed his +difficult mission as best he could. To carry out Septimus's wishes, +which involved the vilification of the innocent and the +beatification of the guilty, went against his conscience. He +omitted, therefore, reference to the demoniac rages which turned +the home into an inferno, and to the quarrels over the machine for +elongating the baby's nose. Their tempers were incompatible; they +found a common life impossible; so, according to the wise modern +view of things, they had decided to live apart while maintaining +cordial relations.</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldrieve was greatly distressed. Tears rolled down her +cheeks on to her knitting. The old order was changing<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> too +rapidly for her and the new to which it was giving place seemed +anarchy to her bewildered eyes. She held up tremulous hands in +protest. Husband and wife living apart so cheerfully, for such +trivial reasons! Even if one had suffered great wrong at the hands +of the other it was their duty to remain side by side. "Those whom +God had joined together—"</p> +<p>"He didn't," snapped Cousin Jane. "They were joined together by +a scrubby man in a registry office."</p> +<p>This is the wild and unjust way in which women talk. For aught +Cousin Jane knew the Chelsea Registrar might have been an Antinous +for beauty.</p> +<p>Mrs. Oldrieve shook her head sadly. She had known how it would +be. If only they had been married in church by their good vicar, +this calamity could not have befallen them.</p> +<p>"All the churches and all the vicars and all the archbishops +couldn't have made that man anything else than a doddering idiot! +How Emmy could have borne with him for a day passes my +understanding. She has done well to get rid of him. She has made a +mess of it, of course. People who marry in that way generally do. +It serves her right."</p> +<p>So spoke Cousin Jane, whom Sypher found, in a sense, an +unexpected ally. She made his task easier. Mrs. Oldrieve remained +unconvinced.</p> +<p>"And the baby just a month or so old. Poor little thing! What's +to become of it?"</p> +<p>"Emmy will have to come here," said Cousin Jane firmly, "and +I'll bring it up. Emmy isn't fit to educate a rabbit. You had +better write and order her to come home at once."</p> +<p>"I'll write to-morrow," sighed Mrs. Oldrieve.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id= +"Page_233"></a>[233]</span>Sypher reflected on the impossibilities +of the proposition and on the reasons Emmy still had for remaining +in exile in Paris. He also pitied the child that was to be brought +up by Cousin Jane. It had extravagant tastes. He smiled.</p> +<p>"My friend Dix is already thinking of sending him to the +University; so you see they have plans for his education."</p> +<p>Cousin Jane sniffed. She would make plans for them! As for the +University—if it could turn out a doddering idiot like +Septimus, it was criminal to send any young man to such a seat of +unlearning. She would not allow him to have a voice in the matter. +Emmy was to be summoned to Nunsmere.</p> +<p>Sypher was about to deprecate the idea when he reflected again, +and thought of Hotspur and the spirits from the vasty deep. Cousin +Jane could call, and so could Mrs. Oldrieve. But would Emmy come? +As the answer to the question was in the negative he left Cousin +Jane to her comfortable resolutions.</p> +<p>"You will no doubt discuss the matter with Dix," he said.</p> +<p>Cousin Jane threw up her hands. "Oh, for goodness' sake, don't +let him come here! I couldn't bear the sight of him."</p> +<p>Sypher looked inquiringly at Mrs. Oldrieve.</p> +<p>"It has been a great shock to me," said the gentle lady. "It +will take time to get over it. Perhaps he had better wait a +little."</p> +<p>Sypher walked home in a wrathful mood. Ostracism was to be added +to Septimus's crown of martyrdom.</p> +<p>Perhaps, on the other hand, the closing of "The Nook" doors was +advantageous. He had dreaded the result of<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> Cousin +Jane's cross-examination, as lying was not one of his friend's +conspicuous accomplishments. Soothed by this reflection he smoked a +pipe, and took down Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" from his +shelves.</p> +<p>While he was deriving spiritual entertainment from the great +battle between Christian and Apollyon and consolation from the +latter's discomfiture, Septimus was walking down the road to the +post-office, a letter in his hand. The envelope was addressed to +"Mrs. Middlemist, White Star Co.'s S.S. <i>Cedric</i>, Marseilles." +It contained a blank sheet of headed note-paper and the tail of a +little china dog.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span>CHAPTER +XVIII</h2> +<p>As soon as a woman knows what she wants she generally gets it. +Some philosophers assert that her methods are circuitous; others, +on the other hand, maintain that she rides in a bee line toward the +desired object, galloping ruthlessly over conventions, +susceptibilities, hearts, and such like obstacles. All, however, +agree that she is unscrupulous, that the wish of the woman is the +politely insincere wish of the Deity, and that she pursues her +course with a serene sureness unknown to man. It is when a woman +does not know what she wants that she baffles the philosopher just +as the ant in her aimless discursiveness baffles the entomologist. +Of course, if the philosopher has guessed her unformulated desire, +then things are easy for him, and he can discourse with certitude +on feminine vagaries, as Rattenden did on the journeyings of Zora +Middlemist. He has the word of the enigma. But to the woman herself +her state of mind is an exasperating puzzle, and to her friends, +philosophic or otherwise, her consequent actions are +disconcerting.</p> +<p>Zora went to California, where she was hospitably entertained, +and shown the sights of several vast neighborhoods. She peeped into +the Chinese quarter at San Francisco, and visited the Yosemite +Valley. Attentive young men strewed her path with flowers and +candy. Young women vowed her eternal devotion. She came into touch +with the intimate problems of the most wonderful social organism +the world has ever seen, and was confronted with +stupendous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id= +"Page_236"></a>[236]</span> works of nature and illimitable +solitudes wherein the soul stands appalled. She also ate a great +quantity of peaches. When her visit to the Callenders had come to +an end she armed herself with introductions and started off by +herself to see America. She traveled across the Continent, beheld +the majesty of Niagara and the bewildering life of New York. She +went to Washington and Boston. In fact, she learned many things +about a great country which were very good for her to know, +receiving impressions with the alertness of a sympathetic +intellect, and pigeonholing them with feminine conscientiousness +for future reference.</p> +<p>It was all very pleasant, healthful, and instructive, but it no +more helped her in her quest than gazing at the jewelers' windows +in the Rue de la Paix. Snow-capped Sierras and crowded tram-cars +were equally unsuggestive of a mission in life. In the rare moments +which activity allowed her for depression she began to wonder +whether she was not chasing the phantom of a wild goose. A damsel +to whom in a moment of expansion she revealed the object of her +journeying exclaimed: "What other mission in life has a woman than +to spend money and look beautiful?"</p> +<p>Zora laughed incredulously.</p> +<p>"You've accomplished half already, for you do look beautiful," +said the damsel. "The other half is easy."</p> +<p>"But if you haven't much money to spend?"</p> +<p>"Spend somebody else's. Lord! If I had your beauty I'd just walk +down Wall Street and pick up a millionaire between my finger and +thumb, and carry him off right away."</p> +<p>When Zora suggested that life perhaps might have some deeper +significance, the maiden answered:</p> +<p>"Life is like the school child's idea of a +parable—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id= +"Page_237"></a>[237]</span> heavenly story (if you've lots of +money) with no earthly meaning."</p> +<p>"Don't you ever go down beneath the surface of things?" asked +Zora.</p> +<p>"If you dig down far enough into the earth," replied the damsel, +"you come to water. If you bore down deep enough into life you come +to tears. My dear, I'm going to dance on the surface and have a +good time as long as I can. And I guess you're doing the same."</p> +<p>"I suppose I am," said Zora. And she felt ashamed of +herself.</p> +<p>At Washington fate gave her an opportunity of attaining the +other half of the damsel's idea. An elderly senator of enormous +wealth proposed marriage, and offered her half a dozen motor-cars, +a few palaces and most of the two hemispheres. She declined.</p> +<p>"If I were young, would you marry me?"</p> +<p>Zora's beautiful shoulders gave the tiniest shrug of +uncertainty. Perhaps her young friend was right, and the command of +the earth was worth the slight penalty of a husband. She was tired +and disheartened at finding herself no nearer to the heart of +things than when she had left Nunsmere. Her attitude toward the +once unspeakable sex had imperceptibly changed. She no longer +blazed with indignation when a man made love to her. She even found +it more agreeable than looking at cataracts or lunching with +ambassadors. Sometimes she wondered why. The senator she treated +very tenderly.</p> +<p>"I don't know. How can I tell?" she said a moment or two after +the shrug.</p> +<p>"My heart is young," said he.</p> +<p>Zora met his eyes for the millionth part of a second +and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id= +"Page_238"></a>[238]</span> turned her head away, deeply sorry for +him. The woman's instinctive look dealt instantaneous death to his +hopes. It was one more enactment of the tragedy of the bald head +and the gray beard. He spoke with pathetic bitterness. Like Don Ruy +Gomez da Silva in "Hernani," he gave her to understand that now, +when a young fellow passed him in the street, he would give up all +his motor-cars and all his colossal canned-salmon business for the +young fellow's raven hair and bright eyes.</p> +<p>"Then you would love me. I could make you."</p> +<p>"What is love, after all?" asked Zora.</p> +<p>The elderly senator looked wistfully through the years over an +infinite welter of salmon-tins, seeing nothing else.</p> +<p>"It's the meaning of life," said he. "I've discovered it too +late."</p> +<p>He went away sorrowful, and Zora saw the vanity of great +possessions.</p> +<p>On the homeward steamer she had as a traveling companion a young +Englishman whom she had met at Los Angeles, one Anthony Dasent, an +engineer of some distinction. He was bronzed and healthy and +lithe-limbed. She liked him because he had brains and looked her +squarely in the face. On the first evening of the voyage a slight +lurch of the vessel caused her to slip, and she would have fallen +had he not caught her by the arms. For the first time she realized +how strong a man could be. It was a new sensation, not +unpleasurable, and in thanking him she blushed. He remained with +her on deck, and talked of their California friends and the United +States. The next day he established himself by her side, and +discoursed on the sea and the sky, human aspirations, the +discomforts of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id= +"Page_239"></a>[239]</span> his cabin, and a belief in eternal +punishment. The day after that he told her of his ambitions, and +showed her photographs of his mother and sisters. After that they +exchanged views on the discipline of loneliness. His profession, he +observed, took him to the waste places of the earth, where there +was never a woman to cheer him, and when he came back to England he +returned to a hearth equally unconsoled. Zora began to pity his +forlorn condition. To build strong bridges and lay down railroads +was a glorious thing for a man to do; to do it without sweetheart +or wife was nothing less than heroic.</p> +<p>In the course of time he told her that she was the most +beautiful woman he had ever met. He expressed his admiration of the +gold flecks in her brown eyes and the gleams of gold in her hair +when it was caught by the sun. He also wished that his sisters +could have their skirts cut like hers and could learn the art of +tying a veil over a hat. Then he took to scowling on inoffensive +young men who fetched her wraps and lent her their binoculars. He +declared one of them to be an unmitigated ass to throw whom +overboard would be to insult the Atlantic. And then Zora recognized +that he was stolidly in love with her after the manner of his +stolid kind. She felt frightened, and accused herself of coquetry. +Her sympathy with his barren existence had perhaps overstepped the +boundaries of polite interest. She had raised false hopes in a +young and ingenuous bosom. She worked herself up to a virtuous +pitch of self-reprobation and flagellated herself soundly, taking +the precaution, however, of wadding the knots of the scourge with +cotton-wool. After all, was it her fault that a wholesome young +Briton should fall in love with her? She remembered Rattenden's +uncomfortable words on the eve of her first pilgrimage:<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> +"Beautiful women like yourself, radiating feminine magnetism, worry +a man exceedingly. You don't let him go about in peace, so why +should he let you?"</p> +<p>So Zora came face to face with the eternal battle of the sexes. +She stamped her foot in the privacy of her cabin, and declared the +principle to be horrid and primeval and everything that was most +revolting to a woman who had earnestly set forth to discover the +highest things of life. For the remainder of the voyage she avoided +Anthony Dasent's company as much as possible, and, lest he should +add jealousy to the gloom in which he enveloped himself, sought +unexciting joys in the society of a one-eyed geologist who +discoursed playfully on the foraminifera of the Pacific slope.</p> +<p>One day Dasent came on her alone, and burst out wrathfully:</p> +<p>"Why are you treating me like this?"</p> +<p>"Like what?"</p> +<p>"You are making a fool of me. I'm not going to stand it."</p> +<p>Then she realized that when the average man does not get what he +wants exactly when he wants it he loses his temper. She soothed him +according to the better instincts of her sex, but resolved to play +no more with elementary young Britons. One-eyed geologists were +safer companions. The former pitched their hearts into her lap; the +latter, like Pawkins, the geologist of the Pacific slope, gave her +boxes of fossils. She preferred the fossils. You could do what you +liked with them: throw them overboard when the donor was not +looking, or leave them behind in a railway carriage, or take them +home and present them to the vicar who collected butterflies, +beetles, ammonites, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id= +"Page_241"></a>[241]</span> tobacco stoppers. But an odd assortment +of hearts to a woman who does not want them is really a confounded +nuisance. Zora was very much relieved when Dasent, after eating an +enormous breakfast, bade her a tragic farewell at Gibraltar.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>It was a cloudless afternoon when she steamed into Marseilles. +The barren rock islands on the east rose blue-gray from a blue sea. +To the west lay the Isles of Frioul and the island of the +Château d'If, with its prison lying grim and long on the +crest; in front the busy port, the white noble city crowned by the +church of Notre Dame de la Garde standing sentinel against the +clear sky.</p> +<p>Zora stood on the crowded deck watching the scene, touched as +she always was by natural beauty, but sad at heart. Marseilles, +within four-and-twenty hours of London, meant home. Although she +intended to continue her wanderings to Naples and Alexandria, she +felt that she had come to the end of her journey. It had been as +profitless as the last. Pawkins, by her side, pointed out the +geological feature of the rocks. She listened vaguely, and wondered +whether she was to bring him home tied to her chariot as she had +brought Septimus Dix and Clem Sypher. The thought of Sypher drew +her heart to Marseilles.</p> +<p>"I wish I were landing here like you, and going straight home," +she said, interrupting the flow of scientific information. "I've +already been to Naples, and I shall find nothing I want at +Alexandria."</p> +<p>"Geologically, it's not very interesting," said Pawkins. "I'm +afraid prehistoric antiquity doesn't make my pulses beat +faster."</p> +<p>"That's the advantage of it."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id= +"Page_242"></a>[242]</span>One might just as well be a fossil +oneself."</p> +<p>"Much better," said Pawkins, who had read Schopenhauer.</p> +<p>"You are not exhilarating to a depressed woman," said Zora with +a laugh.</p> +<p>"I am sorry," he replied stiffly. "I was trying to entertain +you."</p> +<p>He regarded her severely out of his one eye and edged away, as +if he repented having wasted his time over so futile an organism as +a woman. But her feminine magnetism drew him back.</p> +<p>"I'm rather glad you are going on to Alexandria," he remarked in +a tone of displeasure, and before she could reply he marched off to +look after his luggage.</p> +<p>Zora's eyes followed him until he disappeared, then she shrugged +her shoulders. Apparently one-eyed geologists were as unsafe as +elementary young Britons and opulent senators. She felt unfairly +treated by Providence. It was maddening to realize herself as of no +use in the universe except to attract the attention of the opposite +sex. She clenched her hands in impotent anger. There was no mission +on earth which she could fulfil. She thought enviously of Cousin +Jane.</p> +<p>The steamer entered the harbor; the passengers for Marseilles +landed, and the mail was brought aboard. There was only one letter +for Mrs. Middlemist. It bore the Nunsmere postmark. She opened it +and found the tail of the little china dog.</p> +<p>She looked at it for a moment wonderingly as it lay absurdly +curled in the palm of her hand, and then she burst into tears. The +thing was so grotesquely trivial. It meant so much. It was a sign +and a token falling, as it were,<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> from the sky into the +midst of her despairing mood, rebuking her, summoning her, +declaring an unknown mission which she was bound to execute. It lay +in her hand like a bit of destiny, inexorable, unquestionable, +silently compelling her forthwith to the human soul that stood in +great need of her. Fate had granted the wish she had expressed to +the one-eyed geologist. She landed at Marseilles, and sped homeward +by the night train, her heart torn with anxiety for Septimus.</p> +<p>All night long the rhythmic clatter of the train shaped itself +into the burden of her words to him: "If ever you want me badly, +send me the tail, and I'll come to you from any distance." She had +spoken then half jestingly, all tenderly. That evening she had +loved him "in a sort of way," and now that he had sent for her, the +love returned. The vivid experiences of the past months which had +blinded her to the quieter light of home faded away into darkness. +Septimus in urgent need, Emmy and Clem Sypher filled her thoughts. +She felt thankful that Sypher, strong and self-reliant, was there +to be her ally, should her course with Septimus be difficult. +Between them they could surely rescue the ineffectual being from +whatever dangers assailed him. But what could they be? The question +racked her. Did it concern Emmy? A child, she knew, had just been +born. A chill fear crept on her lest some tragedy had occurred +through Septimus's folly. From him any outrageous senselessness +might be expected, and Emmy herself was scarcely less irresponsible +than her babe. She reproached herself for having suggested his +marriage with Emmy. Perhaps in his vacant way he had acted entirely +on her prompting. The marriage was wrong. Two helpless children +should never have taken on themselves the<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> graver +duties of life toward each other and, future generations.</p> +<p>If it were a case in which a man's aid were necessary, there +stood Sypher, a great pillar of comfort. Unconsciously she compared +him with the man with whom she had come in contact during her +travels—and she had met many of great charm and strength and +knowledge. For some strange reason which she could not analyze, he +towered above them all, though in each separate quality of +character others whom she could name surpassed him far. She knew +his faults, and in her lofty way smiled at them. Her character as +goddess or guardian angel or fairy patroness of the Cure she had +assumed with the graciousness of a grown-up lady playing charades +at a children's party. His occasional lapses from the traditions of +her class jarred on her fine susceptibilities. Yet there, in spite +of all, he stood rooted in her life, a fact, a puzzle, a pride and +a consolation. The other men paled into unimportant ghosts before +him, and strayed shadowy through the limbo of her mind. Till now +she had not realized it. Septimus, however, had always dwelt in her +heart like a stray dog whom she had rescued from vagrancy. He did +not count as a man. Sypher did. Thus during the long, tedious hours +of the journey home the two were curiously mingled in her anxious +conjectures, and she had no doubt that Sypher and herself, the +strong and masterful, would come to the deliverance of the +weak.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Septimus, who had received a telegram from Marseilles, waited +for her train at Victoria. In order to insure being in time he had +arrived a couple of hours too soon, and patiently wandered about +the station. Now and then he stopped before the engines of trains +at rest, fascinated, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id= +"Page_245"></a>[245]</span> he always was, by perfect mechanism. A +driver, dismounting from the cab, and seeing him lost in admiration +of the engine, passed him a civil word, to which Septimus, always +courteous, replied. They talked further.</p> +<p>"I see you're an engineer, sir," said the driver, who found +himself in conversation with an appreciative expert.</p> +<p>"My father was," said Septimus. "But I could never get up in +time for my examinations. Examinations seem so silly. Why should +you tell a set of men what they know already?"</p> +<p>The grimy driver expressed the opinion that examinations were +necessary. He who spoke had passed them.</p> +<p>"I suppose you can get up at any time," Septimus remarked +enviously. "Somebody ought to invent a machine for those who +can't."</p> +<p>"You only want an alarm-clock," said the driver.</p> +<p>Septimus shook his head. "They're no good. I tried one once, but +it made such a dreadful noise that I threw a boot at it."</p> +<p>"Did that stop it?"</p> +<p>"No," murmured Septimus. "The boot hit another clock on the +mantelpiece, a Louis Quinze clock, and spoiled it. I did get up, +but I found the method too expensive, so I never tried it +again."</p> +<p>The engine of an outgoing train blew off steam, and the +resounding din deafened the station. Septimus held his hands to his +ears. The driver grinned.</p> +<p>"I can't stand that noise," Septimus explained when it was over. +"Once I tried to work out an invention for modifying it. It was a +kind of combination between a gramaphone and an orchestrion. You +stuck it inside somewhere, and instead of the awful screech a piece +of music<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id= +"Page_246"></a>[246]</span> would come out of the funnel. In fact, +it might have gone on playing all the time the train was in motion. +It would have been so cheery for the drivers, wouldn't it?"</p> +<p>The unimaginative mechanic whose wits were scattered by this +fantastic proposition used his bit of cotton waste as a +handkerchief, and remarked with vague politeness that it was a pity +the gentleman was not an engineer. But Septimus deprecated the +compliment. He looked wistfully up at the girders of the glass roof +and spoke in his gentle, tired voice.</p> +<p>"You see," he concluded, "if I had been in practice as an +engineer I should never have designed machinery in the orthodox +way. I should have always put in little things of my own—and +then God knows what would have happened."</p> +<p>He brought his eyes to earth with a wan smile, but his companion +had vanished. A crowd had filled the suburban platform at the end +of which he stood, and in a few moments the train clattered off. +Then, remembering that he was hungry, he went to the +refreshment-room, where, at the suggestion of the barmaid, he +regaled himself on two hard-boiled eggs and a glass of sherry. The +meal over, he loitered palely about the busy station, jostled by +frantic gentlemen in silk hats rushing to catch suburban trains, +and watched grimly by a policeman who suspected a pocket-picking +soul beneath his guileless exterior.</p> +<p>At last, by especial grace of heaven, he found himself on the +platform where the custom-house barrier and the long line of +waiting porters heralded the approach of the continental train. Now +that only a few moments separated him from Zora, his heart grew +cold with suspense. He had not seen her since the night of Emmy's +fainting fit. Her letters, though kind, had made clear to him her +royal dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id= +"Page_247"></a>[247]</span>pleasure at his unceremonious marriage. +For the first time he would look into her gold-flecked eyes out of +a disingenuous soul. Would she surprise his guilty secret? It was +the only thing he feared in a bewildering world.</p> +<p>The train came in, and as her carriage flashed by Zora saw him +on the platform with his hat off, passing his fingers nervously +through his Struwel Peter hair. The touch of the familiar welcoming +her brought moisture to her eyes. As soon as the train stopped she +alighted, and leaving Turner (who had accompanied her on the +pilgrimage, and from Dover had breathed fervent thanks to Heaven +that at last she was back in the land of her fathers) to look after +her luggage, she walked down the platform to meet him.</p> +<p>He was just asking a porter at frantic grapple with the hand +baggage of a large family whether he had seen a tall and +extraordinarily beautiful lady in the train, when she came up to +him with outstretched hands and beaming eyes. He took the hands and +looked long at her, unable to speak. Never had she appeared to him +more beautiful, more gracious. The royal waves of her hair beneath +a fur traveling-toque invested her with queenliness. The full youth +of her figure not hidden by a fur jacket brought to him the +generous woman. A bunch of violets at her bosom suggested the +fragrant essence of her.</p> +<p>"Oh, it's good to see you, Septimus. It's good!" she cried. "The +sight of you makes me feel as if nothing mattered in the world +except the people one cares for. How are you?"</p> +<p>"I'm very well indeed," said Septimus. "Full of inventions."</p> +<p>She laughed and guided him up the platform through<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> the +cross-traffic of porters carrying luggage from train to cabs.</p> +<p>"Is mother all right?" she asked anxiously.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"And Emmy and the baby?"</p> +<p>"Remarkably well. Emmy has had him christened. I wanted him to +be called after you. Zoroaster was the only man's name I could +think of, but she did not like it, and so she called it Octavius +after me. Also Oldrieve after the family, and William."</p> +<p>"Why William?"</p> +<p>"After Pitt," said Septimus in the tone of a man who gives the +obvious answer.</p> +<p>She halted for a moment, perplexed.</p> +<p>"Pitt?"</p> +<p>"Yes; the great statesman. He's going to be a member of +Parliament, you know."</p> +<p>"Oh," said Zora, moving slowly on.</p> +<p>"His mother says it's after the lame donkey on the common. We +used to call it William. He hasn't changed a bit since you +left."</p> +<p>"So the baby's full name is—" said Zora, ignoring the +donkey.</p> +<p>"William Octavius Oldrieve Dix. It's so helpful to a child to +have a good name."</p> +<p>"I long to see him," said Zora.</p> +<p>"He's in Paris just now."</p> +<p>"Paris?" she echoed.</p> +<p>"Oh, he's not by himself, you know," Septimus hastened to +reassure her, lest she might think that the babe was alone among +the temptations and dissipations of the gay city. "His mother's +there, too."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id= +"Page_249"></a>[249]</span>She shook him by the coat-sleeve.</p> +<p>"What an exasperating thing you are! Why didn't you tell me? I +could have broken my journey or at least asked them to meet me at +the Gare du Nord. But why aren't they in England?"</p> +<p>"I didn't bring them with me."</p> +<p>She laughed again at his tone, suspecting nothing.</p> +<p>"You speak as if you had accidentally left them behind, like +umbrellas. Did you?"</p> +<p>Turner came up, attended by a porter with the hand baggage.</p> +<p>"Are you going on to Nunsmere to-night, ma'am?"</p> +<p>"Why should you?" asked Septimus.</p> +<p>"I had intended to do so. But if mother is quite well, and Emmy +and the baby are in Paris, and you yourself are here, I don't quite +see the necessity."</p> +<p>"It would be much nicer if you remained in London," said he.</p> +<p>"Very well," said Zora, "we shall. We can put up at the +Grosvenor Hotel here for the night. Where are you staying?"</p> +<p>Septimus murmured the name of his sedate club, where his +dissolute morning appearance was still remembered against him.</p> +<p>"Go and change and come back and dine with me in an hour's +time."</p> +<p>He obeyed the command with his usual meekness, and Zora followed +the porter through the subway to the hotel.</p> +<p>"We haven't dined together like this," she said, unfolding her +napkin an hour afterwards, "since Monte Carlo. Then it was +hopelessly unconventional. Now we can dine<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> in the +strictest propriety. Do you understand that you're my +brother-in-law?"</p> +<p>She laughed, radiant, curiously happy at being with him. She +realized, with a little shock of discovery, the restfulness that +was the essential quality of his companionship. He was a quiet +haven after stormy seas; he represented something intimate and +tender in her life.</p> +<p>They spoke for a while of common things: her train journey, the +crossing, the wonders she had seen. He murmured incoherent sketches +of his life in Paris, the new gun, and Hégisippe Cruchot. +But of the reason for his summons he said nothing. At last she +leaned across the table and said gently:</p> +<p>"Why am I here, Septimus? You haven't told me."</p> +<p>"Haven't I?"</p> +<p>"No. You see, the little dog's tail brought me post-haste to +you, but it gave me no inkling why you wanted me so badly."</p> +<p>He looked at her in his scared manner.</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't want you at all; at least, I do—most +tremendously—but not for myself."</p> +<p>"For whom, then?"</p> +<p>"Clem Sypher," said Septimus.</p> +<p>She paled slightly, and looked down at her plate and crumbled +bread. For a long time she did not speak. The announcement did not +surprise her. In an inexplicable way it seemed natural. Septimus +and Sypher had shared her thoughts so oddly during her journey. An +unaccountable shyness had checked her impulse to inquire after his +welfare. Indeed, now that the name was spoken she could scarcely +believe that she had not expected to hear it.</p> +<p>"What is the matter?" she asked at length.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id= +"Page_251"></a>[251]</span>The Cure has failed."</p> +<p>"Failed?"</p> +<p>She looked up at him half incredulously. The very last letter +she had received from Sypher had been full of the lust of battle. +Septimus nodded gloomily.</p> +<p>"It was only a silly patent ointment like a hundred others, but +it was Sypher's religion. Now his gods have gone, and he's lost. +It's not good for a man to have no gods. I didn't have any once, +and the devils came in. They drove me to try haschisch. But it must +have been very bad haschisch, for it made me sick, and so I was +saved."</p> +<p>"What made you send for me so urgently? The dog's tail—you +knew I had to come."</p> +<p>"Sypher wanted you—to give him some new gods."</p> +<p>"He could have sent for me himself. Why did he ask you?"</p> +<p>"He didn't," cried Septimus. "He doesn't know anything about it. +He hasn't the faintest idea that you're in London to-night. Was I +wrong in bringing you back?"</p> +<p>To Zora the incomprehensible aspect of the situation was her own +attitude. She did not know whether Septimus was wrong or not. She +told herself that she ought to resent the summons which had caused +her such needless anxiety as to his welfare, but she could feel no +resentment. Sypher had failed. The mighty had fallen. She pictured +a broken-hearted man, and her own heart ached for him.</p> +<p>"You did right, Septimus," she said very gently. "But of what +use can I be to him?"</p> +<p>Septimus said: "He's the one to tell you that."</p> +<p>"But do you think he knows? He didn't before. He wanted me to +stay as a kind of Mascotte for the Cure—sim<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span>ply sit +still while he drew influence out of me or something. It was +absurd."</p> +<p>It was on this occasion that Septimus made his one contribution +to pessimistic philosophy.</p> +<p>"When you analyze anything in life," said he, "don't you think +that you always come down to a <i>reductio ad absurdum?</i>"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span>CHAPTER +XIX</h2> +<p>"I'm very sorry to leave you, Mr. Sypher," said Shuttleworth, +"but my first duty is to my wife and family."</p> +<p>Clem Sypher leaned back in his chair behind his great office +desk and looked at his melancholy manager with the eyes of a +general whose officers refuse the madness of a forlorn hope.</p> +<p>"Quite so," he said tonelessly. "When do you want to go?"</p> +<p>"You engaged me on a three-months' notice, but—"</p> +<p>"But you want to go now?"</p> +<p>"I have a very brilliant position offered me if I can take it up +in a fortnight."</p> +<p>"Very well," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"You won't say it's a case of rats deserting a sinking ship, +will you, sir? As I say, my wife and family—"</p> +<p>"The ship's sinking. You're quite right to leave it. Is the +position offered you in the same line of business?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Shuttleworth, unable to meet his chief's clear, +unsmiling eyes.</p> +<p>"One of the rival firms?"</p> +<p>Shuttleworth nodded, then broke out into mournful asseverations +of loyalty. Tithe Cure had flourished he would have stayed with Mr. +Sypher till the day of his death. He would have refused the +brilliant offer. But in the circumstances—"</p> +<p>"<i>Sauve qui peut,</i>" said Sypher. "Another month or two and +Sypher's Cure becomes a thing of the past. Nothing<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> can +pull it through. I was too sanguine. I wish I had taken your advice +oftener, Shuttleworth."</p> +<p>Shuttleworth thanked him for the compliment.</p> +<p>"One learns by experience," said he modestly. "I was born and +bred in the patent-medicine business. It's very risky. You start a +thing. It catches on for a while. Then something else more +attractive comes on the market. There's a war of advertising, and +the bigger capital wins. The wise man gets out of it just before +the rival comes. If you had taken my advice five years ago, and +turned it into a company, you'd have been a rich man now, without a +care in the world. Next time you will."</p> +<p>"There'll be no next time," said Sypher gravely.</p> +<p>"Why not? There's always money in patent medicines. For +instance, in a new cure for obesity if properly worked. A man like +you can always get the money together."</p> +<p>"And the cure for obesity?"</p> +<p>Shuttleworth's dismal face contracted into the grimace which +passed with him for a smile.</p> +<p>"Any old thing will do, so long as it doesn't poison +people."</p> +<p>Uncomfortable under his chief's silent scrutiny, he took off his +spectacles, breathed on them, and wiped them with his +handkerchief.</p> +<p>"The public will buy anything, if you advertise it enough."</p> +<p>"I suppose they will," said Sypher. "Even Jebusa Jones's Cuticle +Remedy."</p> +<p>Shuttleworth started and put on his spectacles.</p> +<p>"Why shouldn't they buy the Remedy, after all?"</p> +<p>"You ask me that?" said Sypher. All through the interview he had +not shifted his position. He sat fixed like a florid ghost.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id= +"Page_255"></a>[255]</span>The manager shuffled uneasily in his +chair beside the desk, and cleared his throat nervously.</p> +<p>"I'm bound to," said he, "in self-defense. I know what you think +of the Cure—but that's a matter of sentiment. I've been into +the thing pretty thoroughly, and I know that there's scarcely any +difference in the composition of the Remedy and the Cure. After +all, any protecting grease that keeps the microbes in the air out +of the sore place does just as well—sometimes better. There's +nothing in patent ointment that really cures. Now is there?"</p> +<p>"Are you going to the Jebusa Jones people?" asked Sypher.</p> +<p>"I have my wife and family," the manager pleaded. "I couldn't +refuse. They've offered me the position of their London agent. I +know it must pain you," he added hurriedly, "but what could I +do?"</p> +<p>"Every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost. So you +will give me what they used to call my <i>coup de grâce</i>. +You'll just stab me dead as I lie dying. Well, in a fortnight's +time you can go."</p> +<p>The other rose. "Thank you very much, Mr. Sypher. You have +always treated me generously, and I'm more than sorry to leave you. +You bear me no ill will?"</p> +<p>"For going from one quack remedy to another? Certainly not."</p> +<p>It was only when the door closed behind the manager that Sypher +relaxed his attitude. He put both hands up to his face, and then +fell forward on to the desk, his head on his arms.</p> +<p>The end had come. To that which mattered in the man, the +lingering faith yet struggling in the throes of dissolution, +Shuttleworth had indeed given the <i>coup de +grâce</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id= +"Page_256"></a>[256]</span> That he had joined the arch-enemy who +in a short time would achieve his material destruction signified +little. When something spiritual is being done to death, the body +and mind are torpid. Even a month ago, had Shuttleworth uttered +such blasphemy within those walls Clem Sypher would have arisen in +his wrath like a mad crusader and have cloven the blasphemer from +skull to chine. To-day, he had sat motionless, petrified, scarcely +able to feel. He knew that the man spoke truth. As well put any +noxious concoction of drugs on the market and call it a specific +against obesity or gravel or deafness as Sypher's Cure. Between the +heaven-sent panacea which was to cleanse the skin of the nations +and send his name ringing down the centuries as the Friend of +Humanity and the shiveringly vulgar Jebusa Jones's Cuticle Remedy +there was not an atom of important difference. One was as useful or +as useless as the other. The Cure was pale green; the Remedy rose +pink. Women liked the latter best on account of its color. Both +were quack medicaments.</p> +<p>He raised a drawn and agonized face and looked around the +familiar room, where so many gigantic schemes had been laid, where +so many hopes had shone radiant, and saw for the first time its +blatant self-complacency, its piteous vulgarity. Facing him was the +artist's original cartoon for the great poster which once had been +famous all over the world, and now, for lack of money, only +lingered in shreds on a forgotten hoarding in some Back of Beyond. +It represented the Friend of Humanity, in gesture, white beard, and +general appearance resembling a benevolent minor prophet, +distributing the Cure to a scrofulous universe. In those glorified +days, he had striven to have his own lineaments depicted above the +robe of the central<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id= +"Page_257"></a>[257]</span> figure, but the artist had declared +them to be unpictorial, and clung to the majesty of the gentleman +in the white beard. Around the latter's feet were gathered a motley +crew—the fine lady in her ball dress, the shoeblack, the +crowned king, the red Indian in Fenimore Cooper feathers, the +half-naked negro, the wasted, ragged mother with her babe, the +jockey, the Syrian leper, and a score of other types of humans, +including in the background a hairy-faced creature, the "dog-faced +man" of Barnum's show. They were well grouped, effective, making +the direct appeal to an Anglo-Saxon populace, which in its art must +have something to catch hold of, like the tannin in its overdrawn +tea. It loved to stand before this poster and pick out the easily +recognized characters and argue (as Sypher, whose genius had +suggested the inclusion of the freak had intended) what the hairy +creature could represent, and, as it stood and picked and argued, +the great fact of Sypher's Cure sank deep into their souls. He +remembered the glowing pride with which he had regarded this +achievement, the triumphal progress he made in a motor-car around +the London hoardings the day after the poster had been pasted +abroad. And now he knew it in his heart to be nothing but a tawdry, +commercial lie.</p> +<p>Framed in oak on his walls hung kindly notes relating to the +Cure from great personages or their secretaries. At the bottom of +one ran the sprawling signature of the Grand Duke who had hailed +him as "<i>ce bon Sypher</i>" at the Gare de Lyon when he started +on the disastrous adventure of the blistered heel. There was the +neatly docketed set of pigeonholes containing the proofs of all the +advertisements he had issued. Lying before him on his desk was a +copy, resplendently bound in morocco for his own +gratification,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id= +"Page_258"></a>[258]</span> of the forty-page, thin-paper pamphlet +which was wrapped, a miracle of fine folding, about each packet of +the Cure. On each page the directions for use were given in a +separate language. French, Fijian, Syrian, Basque were +there—forty languages—so that all the sons of men could +read the good tidings and amuse themselves at the same time by +trying to decipher the message in alien tongues.</p> +<p>Wherever he looked, some mockery of vain triumph met his eye: an +enlargement of a snapshot photograph of the arrival of the first +case of the Cure on the shores of Lake Tchad; photographs of the +busy factory, now worked by a dwindling staff; proofs of full-page +advertisements in which "Sypher's Cure" and "Friend of Humanity" +figured in large capitals; the model of Edinburgh Castle, built by +a grateful inmate of a lunatic asylum out of the red celluloid +boxes of the Cure.</p> +<p>He shuddered at all these symbols and images of false gods, and +bowed his head again on his arms. The abyss swallowed him. The +waters closed over his head.</p> +<p>How long he remained like this he did not know. He had forbidden +his door. The busy life of the office stood still. The dull roar of +Moorgate Street was faintly heard, and now and then the windows +vibrated faintly. The sprawling, gilt, mid-Victorian clock on the +mantelpiece had stopped.</p> +<p>Presently an unusual rustle in the room caused him to raise his +head with a start. Zora Middlemist stood before him. He sprang to +his feet.</p> +<p>"You? You?"</p> +<p>"They wouldn't let me in. I forced my way. I said I must see +you."</p> +<p>He stared at her, open-mouthed. A shivering thrill<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> passed +through him, such as shakes a man on the verge of a great +discovery.</p> +<p>"You, Zora? You have come to me at this moment?"</p> +<p>He looked so strange and staring, so haggard and disheveled, +that she moved quickly to him and laid both her hands on his.</p> +<p>"My dear friend, my dearest friend, is it as bad as that?"</p> +<p>A throb of pain underlay the commonplace words. The anguish on +his face stirred the best and most womanly in her. She yearned to +comfort him. But he drew a pace or two away, and held up both hands +as if warding her off, and stared at her still, but with a new +light in his clear eyes that drank in her beauty and the sorcery of +her presence.</p> +<p>"My God!" he cried, in a strained voice. "My God! What a fool +I've been!"</p> +<p>He swerved as if he had received a blow and sank into his office +chair, and turned his eyes from her to the ground, and sat stunned +with joy and wonder and misery. He put out a hand blindly, and she +took it, standing by his side. He knew now what he wanted. He +wanted her, the woman. He wanted her voice in his ears, her kiss on +his lips, her dear self in his arms. He wanted her welcome as he +entered his house, her heart, her soul, her mind, her body, +everything that was hers. He loved her for herself, passionately, +overwhelmingly, after the simple way of men. He had raised his eyes +from the deeps of hell, and in a flash she was revealed to +him—incarnate heaven.</p> +<p>He felt the touch of her gloved hand on his, and it sent a +thrill through his veins which almost hurt, as the newly coursing +blood hurts the man that has been revived from torpor. The +mistiness that serves a strong man for tears<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span> clouded +his sight. He had longed for her; she had come. From their first +meeting he had recognized, with the visionary's glimpse of the +spiritual, that she was the woman of women appointed unto him for +help and comfort. But then the visionary had eclipsed the man. +Destiny had naught to do with him but as the instrument for the +universal spreading of the Cure. The Cure was his life. The woman +appointed unto him was appointed unto the Cure equally with +himself. He had violently credited her with his insane faith. He +had craved her presence as a mystical influence that in some way +would paralyze the Jebusa Jones Dragon and give him supernatural +strength to fight. He had striven with all his power to keep her +radiant like a star, while his own faith lay dying.</p> +<p>He had been a fool. All the time it was the sheer woman that had +held him, the sheer man. And yet had not destiny fulfilled itself +with a splendid irony in sending her to him then, in that moment of +his utter anguish, of the utter annihilation of the fantastic faith +whereby he had lived for years? From the first he had been right, +though with a magnificent lunacy. It was she, in very truth, who +had been destined to slay his dragon. It was dead now, a vulgar, +slimy monster, incapable of hurt, slain by the lightning flash of +love, when his eyes met hers, a moment or two ago. In a confused +way he realized this. He repeated mechanically:</p> +<p>"What a fool I've been! What a fool I've been!"</p> +<p>"Why?" asked Zora, who did not understand.</p> +<p>"Because—" he began, and then he stopped, finding no +words. "I wonder whether God sent you?"</p> +<p>"I'm afraid it was only Septimus," she said with a smile.</p> +<p>"Septimus?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id= +"Page_261"></a>[261]</span>He was startled. What could Septimus +have to do with her coming? He rose again, and focusing his +whirling senses on conventional things, wheeled an armchair to the +fire, and led her to it, and took his seat near her in his office +chair.</p> +<p>"Forgive me," he said, "but your coming seemed supernatural. I +was dazed by the wonderful sight of you. Perhaps it's not you, +after all. I may be going mad and have hallucinations. Tell me that +it's really you."</p> +<p>"It's me, in flesh and blood—you can touch for +yourself—and my sudden appearance is the simplest thing in +the world."</p> +<p>"But I thought you were going to winter in Egypt?"</p> +<p>"So did I, until I reached Marseilles. This is how it was."</p> +<p>She told him of the tail of the little china dog, and of her +talk with Septimus the night before.</p> +<p>"So I came to you," she concluded, "as soon as I decently could, +this morning."</p> +<p>"And I owe you to Septimus," he said.</p> +<p>"Ah, I know! You ought to have owed me to yourself," she cried, +misunderstanding him. "If I had known things were so terrible with +you I would have come. I would, really. But I was misled by your +letters. They were so hopeful. Don't reproach me."</p> +<p>"Reproach you! You who have given this crazy fellow so much! You +who come to me all sweetness and graciousness, with heaven in your +eyes, after having been dragged across Europe and made to sacrifice +your winter of sunshine, just for my sake! Ah, no! It's myself that +I reproach."</p> +<p>"For what?" she asked.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id= +"Page_262"></a>[262]</span>For being a fool, a crazy, blatant, +self-centered fool My God!" he exclaimed, smiting the arm of his +chair as a new view of things suddenly occurred to him. "How can +you sit there—how have you suffered me these two +years—without despising me? How is it that I haven't been the +mock and byword of Europe? I must have been!"</p> +<p>He rose and walked about the room in great agitation.</p> +<p>"These things have all come crowding up together. One can't +realize everything at once. 'Clem Sypher, Friend of Humanity!' How +they must have jeered behind my back if they thought me sincere! +How they must have despised me if they thought me nothing but an +advertising quack! Zora Middlemist, for heaven's sake tell me what +you have thought of me. What have you taken me for—a madman +or a charlatan?"</p> +<p>"It is you that must tell me what has happened," said Zora +earnestly. "I don't know. Septimus gave me to understand that the +Cure had failed. He's never clear about anything in his own mind, +and he's worse when he tries to explain it to others."</p> +<p>"Septimus," said Sypher, "is one of the children of God."</p> +<p>"But he's a little bit incoherent on earth," she rejoined, with +a smile. "What has really happened?"</p> +<p>Sypher drew a long breath and pulled himself up.</p> +<p>"I'm on the verge of a collapse. The Cure hasn't paid for the +last two years. I hoped against hope. I flung thousands and +thousands into the concern. The Jebusa Jones people and others +out-advertised me, out-manœuvered me at every turn. Now every +bit of capital is gone, and I can't raise any more. I must go +under."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id= +"Page_263"></a>[263]</span>Zora began, "I have a fairly large +fortune—"</p> +<p>He checked her with a gesture, and looked at her clear and +full.</p> +<p>"God bless you," he said. "My heart didn't lie to me at Monte +Carlo when it told me that you were a great-souled woman. Tell me. +Have you ever believed in the Cure in the sense that I believed in +it?"</p> +<p>Zora returned his gaze. Here was no rhodomontading. The man was +grappling with realities.</p> +<p>"No," she replied simply.</p> +<p>"Neither do I any longer," said Sypher. "There is no difference +between it and any quack ointment you can buy at the first +chemist's shop. That is why, even if I saw a chance of putting the +concern on its legs again, I couldn't use your money. That is why I +asked you, just now, what you have thought of me—a madman or +a quack?"</p> +<p>"Doesn't the mere fact of my being here show you what I thought +of you?"</p> +<p>"Forgive me," he said. "It's wrong to ask you such +questions."</p> +<p>"It's worse than wrong. It's unnecessary."</p> +<p>He passed his hands over his eyes, and sat down.</p> +<p>"I've gone through a lot to-day. I'm not quite myself, so you +must forgive me if I say unnecessary things. God sent you to me +this morning. Septimus was His messenger. If you hadn't appeared +just now I think I should have gone into black madness."</p> +<p>"Tell me all about it," she said softly. "All that you care to +tell. I am your nearest friend—I think."</p> +<p>"And dearest."</p> +<p>"And you are mine. You and Septimus. I've seen hundreds of +people since I've been away, and some seem<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> to have +cared for me—but there's no one really in my life but you +two."</p> +<p>Sypher thought: "And we both love you with all there is in us, +and you don't know it." He also thought jealously: "Who are the +people that have cared for you?"</p> +<p>He said: "No one?"</p> +<p>A smile parted her lips as she looked him frankly in the eyes +and repeated the negative. He breathed a sigh of relief, for he had +remembered Rattenden's prophecy of the big man whom she was +seeking, of the love for the big man, the gorgeous tropical +sunshine in which all the splendor in her could develop. She had +not found him. From the depths of his man's egotism he uttered a +prayer of thanksgiving.</p> +<p>"Tell me," she said again.</p> +<p>"Do you remember my letter from Paris in the summer?"</p> +<p>"Yes. You had a great scheme for the armies of the world."</p> +<p>"That was the beginning," said he, and then he told her all the +grotesque story to the end, from the episode of the blistered heel. +He told her things that he had never told himself; things that +startled him when he found them expressed in words.</p> +<p>"In Russia," said he, "every house has its sacred pictures, even +the poorest peasant's hut. They call them ikons. These," waving to +the walls, "were my ikons. What do you think of them?"</p> +<p>For the first time Zora became aware of the furniture and +decoration of the room. The cartoon, the advertisement proofs, the +model of Edinburgh Castle, produced on her the same effect as the +famous board in the garden at Fenton Court. Then, however, she +could argue with him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id= +"Page_265"></a>[265]</span> on the question of taste, and lay down +laws as the arbiter of the elegancies of conduct. Now he viewed the +sorry images with her own eyes, and he had gone through fire to +attain this clearness of vision. What could be said? Zora the +magnificent and self-reliant found not a word, though her heart was +filled with pity. She was brought face to face with a ridiculous +soul-tragedy, remote from her poor little experience of life. It +was no time to act the beneficent goddess. She became +self-conscious, fearful to speak lest she might strike a wrong note +of sympathy. She wanted to give the man so much, and she could give +him so little.</p> +<p>"I'm dying to help you," she said, rather piteously. "But how +can I?"</p> +<p>"Zora," he said huskily.</p> +<p>She glanced up at him and he held her eyes with his, and she saw +how she could help him.</p> +<p>"No, don't—don't. I can't bear it."</p> +<p>She rose and turned away. "Don't let us change things. They were +so sweet before. They were so strange—your wanting me as a +sort of priestess—I used to laugh—but I loved it all +the time."</p> +<p>"That's why I said I've been a fool, Zora."</p> +<p>The bell of the telephone connected with his manager's office +rang jarringly. He seized the transmitter in anger.</p> +<p>"How dare you ring me up when I gave orders I was to be +undisturbed? I don't care who wants to see me. I'll see +nobody."</p> +<p>He threw down the transmitter. "I'm very sorry," he began. Then +he stopped. The commonplace summons from the outer world brought +with dismaying suddenness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" +id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> to his mind the practical affairs of +life. He was a ruined man. The thought staggered him. How could he +say to Zora Middlemist: "I am a beggar. I want to marry you"?</p> +<p>She came to him with both hands outstretched, her instinctive +gesture when her heart went out, and used his Christian name for +the first time.</p> +<p>"Clem, let us be friends—good friends—true, dear +friends, but don't spoil it all for me."</p> +<p>When a woman, infinitely desired, pleads like that with glorious +eyes, and her fragrance and her dearness are within arm's length, a +man has but to catch her to him and silence her pleadings with a +man's strength, and carry her off in triumph. It has been the way +of man with woman since the world began, and Sypher knew it by his +man's instinct. It was a temptation such as he had never dreamed +was in the world. He passed through a flaming, blazing torment of +battle.</p> +<p>"Forget what I have said, Zora. We'll be friends, if you so wish +it."</p> +<p>He pressed her hands and turned away. Zora felt that she had +gained an empty victory.</p> +<p>"I ought to be going," she said.</p> +<p>"Not yet. Let us sit down and talk like friends. It's many weary +months since I have seen you."</p> +<p>She remained a little longer and they talked quietly of many +things. On bidding her good-by he said half playfully:</p> +<p>"I've often wondered why you have taken up with a fellow like +me."</p> +<p>"I suppose it's because you're a big man," said Zora.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span>CHAPTER +XX</h2> +<p>Septimus walked back to his club after his dinner with Zora, +blessing his stars for two reasons: first, because a gracious +providence had restored him to favor in his goddess's sight, and, +secondly, because he had escaped without telling her of the +sundered lives of Emmy and himself. By the time he went to bed, +however, having pondered for some hours over the interdependent +relations between Zora, Sypher, Emmy, and himself, he had entangled +his mind into a condition of intricate complication. He longed to +continue to sun himself in the presence of his divinity. But being +a married man (no matter how nominally), too much sunning appeared +reprehensible. He had also arranged for the sunning of Clem Sypher, +and was aware of the indelicacy of two going through this delicious +process at the same time. He also dreaded the possible incredulity +of Zora when he should urge the ferociousness of his domestic +demeanor as the reason for his living apart from his wife. The +consequence was that after a sleepless night he bolted like a +rabbit to his burrow at Nunsmere. At any rate, the mission of the +dog's tail was accomplished.</p> +<p>His bolt took place on Friday. On Saturday morning he was +awakened by Wiggleswick.</p> +<p>The latter's attire was not that of the perfect valet. He wore +an old, colored shirt open at the throat, a pair of trousers +hitched up to his shoulder blades by means of a pair of red braces, +and a pair of dilapidated carpet slippers.</p> +<p>"Here's a letter."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id= +"Page_268"></a>[268]</span>Oh, post it," said Septimus +sleepily.</p> +<p>"You haven't written it. The missus has written it. It has a +French stamp and the Paris postmark. You'd better read it."</p> +<p>He put it on his master's pillow, and went to the window to +admire the view. Septimus aroused, read the letter. It was from +Emmy. It ran:</p> +<div class="blockquot">"DEAREST SEPTIMUS: +<p>"I can't stand this loneliness in Paris any longer. I can't, I +can't. If you were here and I could see you even once a week, I +shouldn't mind. But to go on day after day indefinitely without a +comforting word from you is more than I can bear. You say the flat +is ready. I am coming over at once with baby and Madame Bolivard, +who swears she will never leave me. How she is going to get on in +London without a word of English, I don't know. I don't mind if I +meet Zora. Perhaps it will be better for you that I should. And I +think it will be quite safe for me now. Don't hate me and think me +horrid and selfish, my dear Septimus, but I do want you. I do. I +do. Thanks for the toy train. Baby enjoys the paint on the +carriages so much; but Madame Bolivard says it isn't good for him. +Dear, if I thought you wouldn't forgive me for being such a worry, +I wouldn't worry you.</p> +</div> +<p>"Your always grateful<br /> +"EMMY."</p> +<p>Septimus lit the half-smoked pipe of the night before that lay +on the coverlet, and becoming aware of Wiggleswick, disturbed his +contemplation of nature by asking him if he had ever been +married.</p> +<p>"What?" asked Wiggleswick in the unmodulated tone of the +deaf.</p> +<p>"Have you ever been married, Wiggleswick?"</p> +<p>"Heaps of times," said the old man.</p> +<p>"Dear me," said Septimus. "Did you commit bigamy?"</p> +<p>"Bigamy? No. I buried 'em all honorable."</p> +<p>"That," said Septimus, "was very kind of you."</p> +<p>"It was out of gratitude."</p> +<p>"For their goodness?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id= +"Page_269"></a>[269]</span>No. For being delivered from 'em. I had +a lot of experience before I could learn the blessedness of a +single life."</p> +<p>Septimus sighed. "Yet it must be very nice to have a wife, +Wiggleswick."</p> +<p>"But ain't yer got one?" bawled the disreputable +body-servant.</p> +<p>"Of course, of course," said Septimus hurriedly. "I was thinking +of the people who hadn't."</p> +<p>Wiggleswick approached his master's bedside, with a mysteriously +confidential air.</p> +<p>"Don't you think we're all cosy and comfortable here, sir?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Septimus dubiously.</p> +<p>"Well, I for one have nothing to complain of. The vittles is +good, and one sleeps warm, and one has one's beer and 'baccy +regular. What more does a man want? Not women. Women's a +regrettable hincident."</p> +<p>"Aren't you cold standing there in your shirt sleeves, +Wiggleswick?" asked Septimus, in his hesitating way.</p> +<p>Wiggleswick ignored the delicacy of the suggestion.</p> +<p>"Cold? No. If I was cold, I'd precious soon make myself warm. +Which I wish to remark, Mr. Dix, that now you've parted with the +missus pro tem., don't you think it's more cosy and comfortable? I +don't say but if she came here I'd do my best willingly. I know my +duty. But, sir, a woman, what with her dusting and cleaning, and +washing of herself in hot water, and putting flowers in mugs do +upset things terrible. I've been married oftener than you. I know +'em. Don't you think we get on better, the two of us, as we +are?"</p> +<p>"We get on very nicely," said Septimus politely, +"but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id= +"Page_270"></a>[270]</span> I'm afraid you'll have to do some +cleaning and dusting to-day. I'm awfully sorry to trouble you. Mrs. +Middlemist has returned to England, and may be down this +afternoon."</p> +<p>A look of dismay came over Wiggleswick's crafty, weather-beaten +face.</p> +<p>"Well, I'm jiggered. I'm just jiggered," said he.</p> +<p>"I'm delighted to hear it," murmured Septimus. "Bring me my +shaving-water."</p> +<p>"Are you going to get up?" asked Wiggleswick in a tone of +disgusted incredulity.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Then you'll be wanting breakfast."</p> +<p>"Oh, no," said Septimus, with the wan smile that sometimes +flickered over his features, "afternoon tea will do—with some +bacon and eggs and things."</p> +<p>The old man went out grumbling, and Septimus turned to his +letter. It was very kind of Emmy, he thought, to write to him so +affectionately.</p> +<p>He spent the mild, autumn morning on the common consulting the +ducks in the pond, and seeking inspiration from the lame donkey, +his state of mind being still complicated. The more he reflected on +Emmy's letter and on Wiggleswick's views on women the less did he +agree with Wiggleswick. He missed Emmy, who had treated him very +tenderly since their talk in the moonlight at +Hottetôt-sur-Mer; and he missed the boy who, in the later +days in Paris, after her return, had conceived an infantile +infatuation for him, and would cease crying or go to sleep +peacefully if only he could gather a clump of Septimus's hair in +his tiny fingers. He missed a thousand gossamer trifles—each +one so imperceptible, all added together so significant. He was not +in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id= +"Page_271"></a>[271]</span> the least cosy and comfortable with his +old villain of a serving-man.</p> +<p>Thus he looked forward, in his twilight way, to Emmy's coming. +He would live, perhaps, sometimes in Nunsmere and sometimes in +London. Quite lately, on visiting his bankers, in order to make +arrangements for the disposal of his income, he was surprised to +find how rich he was; and the manager, an astoundingly +well-informed person, explained that a commercial concern in which +he held many shares had reached such a pitch of prosperity as to +treble his dividends. He went away with the vague notion that +commercial companies were models of altruistic generosity. The main +point, however, made clear by the exceptionally intelligent +manager, being that he was richer by several hundreds a year, he +began to dream of a more resplendent residence for Emmy and the boy +than the little flat in Chelsea. He had observed that there were +very nice houses in Berkeley Square. He wondered how much a year +they were, with rates and taxes. For himself, he could perch in any +attic close by. He resolved to discuss Berkeley Square with Emmy as +soon as she arrived. William Octavius Oldrieve Dix, Member of +Parliament, ought to start life in proper surroundings.</p> +<p>Clem Sypher, down for the week-end at Penton Court, burst in +upon him during the afternoon. He came with exciting news. The high +official in the Ordnance Department of the War Office had written +to him that morning to the effect that he was so greatly impressed +by the new quick-firing gun that he proposed to experiment +forthwith, and desired to be put into communication with the +inventor.</p> +<p>"That's very nice," said Septimus, "but shall I have to go and +see him?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id= +"Page_272"></a>[272]</span>Of course," cried Sypher. "You'll have +to interview boards and gunners and engineers, and superintend +experiments. You'll be a person of tremendous importance."</p> +<p>"Oh, dear!" said Septimus, "I couldn't. I couldn't, really."</p> +<p>He was panic-stricken at the notion.</p> +<p>"You'll have to," laughed Sypher.</p> +<p>Septimus clutched at straws. "I'm afraid I shall be too busy. +Emmy's coming to London—and there's the boy's education. You +see, he has to go to Cambridge. Look here," he added, a brilliant +idea occurring to him, "I'm fearfully rich; I don't want any more +money. I'll sell you the thing outright for the two hundred pounds +you advanced me, and then I shan't have anything more to do with +it."</p> +<p>"I think before you make any proposals of the kind you ought to +consult Mrs. Dix," said Sypher with a laugh.</p> +<p>"Or Zora."</p> +<p>"Or Zora," said Sypher. "She came down by the same train as I +did. I told her the good news. She was delighted."</p> +<p>He did not inform Septimus that, for all her delight, Zora had +been somewhat sceptical. She loved Septimus, she admitted, but his +effectuality in any sphere of human endeavor was unimaginable. +Could anything good come out of Nazareth?</p> +<p>About half an hour later the goddess herself arrived, shown in +by Wiggleswick, who had been snatching the pipe of the over-driven +by the front-gate. She looked flushed, resolute, indignant, and, on +seeing Sypher, she paused for a second on the threshold. Then she +entered. Sypher took up his hat and stick.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id= +"Page_273"></a>[273]</span>No, no. You had better stay. You may +help us. I suppose you know all about it."</p> +<p>Septimus's heart sank. He knew what "it" meant.</p> +<p>"Yes, Sypher knows. I told him."</p> +<p>"But why didn't you tell me, dear Septimus, instead of letting +me hear of it from mother and Cousin Jane? I don't think it was +loyal to me."</p> +<p>"I forgot," said Septimus in desperation. "You see, I sometimes +remember it and sometimes forget it. I'm not used to getting +married. Wiggleswick has been married several times. He was giving +me a lot of advice this morning."</p> +<p>"Anyhow, it's true?" asked Zora, disregarding Wiggleswick.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes! You see, my ungovernable temper—"</p> +<p>"Your what?"</p> +<p>It was no use. On receiving the announcement she looked just as +he had expected her to look. He tried to stammer out his catalogue +of infamies, but failed. She burst out laughing, and Sypher, who +knew all and was anxiously wondering how to save the situation, +laughed too.</p> +<p>"My poor, dear Septimus," she said kindly, "I don't believe a +word of it. The woman who couldn't get on with you must be a +virago. I don't care whether she's my own sister or not, she is +treating you abominably."</p> +<p>"But, indeed she's not," pleaded poor Septimus. "We're the best +of friends. I really want to live like this. I do. I can't live +without Wiggleswick. See how cosy and comfortable he makes me."</p> +<p>Zora looked round, and the cosiness and comfort made her gasp. +Cobwebs hung from the old oak beams across the ceiling; a day or +two's ashes defiled the grate; the win<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span>dows +were splashed with mud and rain. There were no curtains. Her finger +drawn along the green baize table-cloth revealed the dust. A pair +of silver candlesticks on the mantelpiece were stained an +iridescent brown. The mirror was fly-blown. In the corner of the +room a tray held the remains of the last meal, and a plate +containing broken food had overflowed onto a neighboring chair. An +odd, uncleaned boot lay, like a frowsy, drunken visitor, on the +floor. The springs of the armchair on which she sat were +broken.</p> +<p>"It's not fit for a pig to live in," she declared. "It's a crime +to leave you to that worthless old scoundrel. I'll talk to him +before I go. He won't like it. And then I'll write to Emmy. If that +has no effect, I'll go over to Paris and bring her to her +senses."</p> +<p>She had arrived royally indignant, having had a pitched battle +with Cousin Jane, who took Emmy's side and alluded to Septimus in +terms of withering contempt. Now she was furiously angry. The two +men looked at her with wistful adoration, for when Zora was furious +in a good cause she was very beautiful. And the adoration in each +man's heart was intensified by the consciousness of the pathetic +futility of her noble rage. It was for her own sake that the +situation had arisen over which she made such a pother, and she was +gloriously unconscious of it. Sypher could not speak lest he should +betray his knowledge of Septimus's secret, and Septimus could only +murmur incoherent ineffectualities concerning the perfection of +Emmy, the worthlessness of himself, and the diamond soul that +lodged in Wiggleswick's forbidding body. Zora would not listen to +unreason. It was Emmy's duty to save her husband from the dust and +ashes of his present cosiness, if she could do nothing else +for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id= +"Page_275"></a>[275]</span> him; and she, Zora, in her +magnificence, was going to see that Emmy's duty was performed. +Instead of writing she would start the next morning for Paris. It +would be well if Septimus could accompany her.</p> +<p>"Mrs. Dix is coming to London, I believe," said Sypher.</p> +<p>Zora looked inquiringly at Septimus, who explained dis +cursively. Zora renounced Paris. She would wait for Emmy. For the +time being the incident was closed. Septimus, in his hospitality, +offered tea.</p> +<p>"I'll get it for you," said Zora. "It will be a good opportunity +to speak sweetly to Wiggleswick."</p> +<p>She swept out of the room; the two men lit cigarettes and smoked +for a while in silence. At last Sypher asked:</p> +<p>"What made you send her the tail of the little dog?"</p> +<p>Septimus reddened, and ran two of the fingers of the hand +holding the cigarette up his hair, and spilled half an inch of ash +on his head.</p> +<p>"I broke the dog, you see," he explained luminously, "I knocked +it off the mantelpiece. I'm always doing it. When Emmy has a decent +house I'll invent something to keep dogs and things on +mantelpieces."</p> +<p>Sypher said: "Do you know you've done me one of those services +which one man rarely does for another. I'll never forget it to my +dying day. By bringing her to me you've saved my reason. You've +made me a different being. I'm Clem Sypher—but, by God you're +the Friend of Humanity."</p> +<p>Septimus looked at him with the terrified expression of a +mediæval wrongdoer, writhing under an ecclesiastical curse. +He made abject apology.</p> +<p>"It was the only thing I could do," said he.</p> +<p>"Of course it was. And that's why you did it. I +never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id= +"Page_276"></a>[276]</span> dreamed when you told me to wait until +I saw her before going mad or breaking my heart that you meant to +send for her. It has set me in front of a new universe."</p> +<p>He rose and stretched his large limbs and smiled confidently at +the world out of his clear blue eyes. Two little words of Zora had +inspired him with the old self-reliance and sense of predestination +to great things. Out of her own mouth had come the words which, +when they had come out of Rattenden's, had made his heart sink in +despair. She had called him a "big man." Like many big men, he was +superstitious. He believed Rattenden's prophetic utterance +concerning Zora. He was, indeed, set in front of a new universe, +and Septimus had done it by means of the tail of a little china +dog.</p> +<p>As he was stretching himself, Wiggleswick shambled in, with the +fear of Zora written on his wrinkled brow, and removed the tray and +the plate of broken victuals. What had passed between them neither +he nor Zora would afterwards relate; but Wiggleswick spent the +whole of that night and the following days in unremitting industry, +so that the house became spick and span as his own well-remembered +prison cells. There also was a light of triumph in Zora's eyes when +she entered a few moments afterwards with the tea-tray, which +caused Sypher to smile and a wicked feeling of content to enter +Septimus's mild bosom.</p> +<p>"I think it was high time I came home," she remarked, pouring +out the tea.</p> +<p>The two men supported the proposition. The western hemisphere, +where she had tarried so long, could get on very well by itself. In +the meantime the old eastern hemisphere had been going to pieces. +They had a gay little meal. Now that Zora had settled Wiggleswick, +arranged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id= +"Page_277"></a>[277]</span> her plan of campaign against Emmy, and +established very agreeable and subtle relations between Sypher and +herself, she could afford to shed all her charm and gaiety and +graciousness on her subjects. She was infinitely glad to be with +them again. Nunsmere had unaccountably expanded; she breathed +freely and no longer knocked her head against beams in bedroom +ceilings.</p> +<p>She rallied Septimus on his new gun.</p> +<p>"He's afraid of it," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"What! Afraid of its going off?" she laughed.</p> +<p>"Oh, no," said Septimus. "I've heard lots of them go off."</p> +<p>"When?" asked Zora.</p> +<p>Septimus reddened, and for once was at a loss for one of the +curiously evasive answers in which his timidity took refuge. He +fidgeted in his chair. Zora repeated her jesting question. "Was it +when they were firing royal salutes in St. James's Park?"</p> +<p>"No," said Septimus.</p> +<p>His back being against the fading light she could not perceive +the discomfiture on his face. She longed to elicit some fantastic +irrelevance.</p> +<p>"Well, where was it? Why this mystery?"</p> +<p>"I'll tell you two," said Septimus. "I've never told you before. +In fact, I've never told any one—not even Wiggleswick. I +don't like to think of it. It hurts. You may have wondered how I +ever got any practical acquaintance with gunnery. I once held a +commission in the Militia Garrison Artillery. That's how I came to +love guns."</p> +<p>"By why should that pain you, my dear Septimus?" asked Zora.</p> +<p>"They said I was incompetent," he murmured, +brokenly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id= +"Page_278"></a>[278]</span> "and took away my commission. The +colonel said I was a disgrace to the service."</p> +<p>Clem Sypher smote the arm of his chair and started up in his +wrath.</p> +<p>"By heavens! I'll make the blundering idiot eat his words. I'll +ram them down his throat with the cleaner of the new gun. I'll make +you the biggest ornament the service ever possessed. I'll devote my +existence to it! The Dix gun shall wipe humanity off the face of +the earth!"</p> +<p>"I don't want it to do that," said Septimus, meekly.</p> +<p>Zora begged his forgiveness very sweetly for her indiscretion, +and having comforted him with glowing prophecies of fame and +domestic happiness, went home with a full heart. She loved Sypher +for his generous outburst. She was deeply touched by Septimus's +tragic story, but having a sense of humor she could not repress a +smile at the thought of Septimus in uniform, handling a battery of +artillery.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span>CHAPTER +XXI</h2> +<p>Cousin Jane was for packing her boxes and departing, but Zora +bade her remain until her own plans were settled. As soon as Emmy +arrived she would have to go to London and play fairy godmother, a +proceeding which might take up considerable time. Mrs. Oldrieve +commended her beneficent intention, and besought her to bring the +irreligiously wedded pair to the Vicar, and have them wedded in a +respectable, Anglican way. She was firmly convinced that if this +were done, nothing more could possibly be heard of separate lives. +Zora promised to do her best, but Cousin Jane continued to sniff. +It would be far better, she declared, to shut the man up in an +idiot asylum and bring Emmy to Nunsmere, where the child could have +a decent upbringing. Zora dissented loftily, but declined to be led +into a profitless argument.</p> +<p>"All I ask of you, my dear Jane," said she, "is to take care of +mother a little longer while I do what I consider my duty."</p> +<p>She did not inform Cousin Jane that a certain freedom of +movements was also rendered desirable by what she considered her +duty to Clem Sypher. Cousin Jane lacked the finer threads of +apprehension, and her comments might have been crude. When Zora +announced her intention to Sypher of leading a migratory existence +between London and Nunsmere for the sakes of Emmy and himself, he +burst into a panegyric on her angelic nature. Her presence would +irradiate these last dark days of disaster, for the +time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id= +"Page_280"></a>[280]</span> was quickly approaching when the +Bermondsey factory would be closed down, and Sypher's Cure would +fade away from the knowledge of men.</p> +<p>"Have you thought of the future—of what you are going to +do?" she asked.</p> +<p>"No," said he, "but I have faith in my destiny."</p> +<p>Zora felt this to be magnificent, but scarcely practical.</p> +<p>"You'll be without resources?"</p> +<p>"I never realized how full empty pockets could be," he +declared.</p> +<p>They were walking across the common, Sypher having lunched at +"The Nook." Presently they came across Septimus sitting by the +pond. He rose and greeted them. He wore an overcoat buttoned up to +the throat and a cloth cap. Zora's quick eyes noted an absence of +detail in his attire.</p> +<p>"Why, you're not dressed! Oh, you do want a wife to look after +you."</p> +<p>"I've only just got up," he explained, "and Wiggleswick wanted +to do out my bedroom, so I hadn't time to find my studs. I was +thinking all night, you see, and one can't think and sleep at the +same time."</p> +<p>"A new invention?" laughed Zora.</p> +<p>"No. The old ones. I was trying to count them up. I've taken out +about fifty patents, and there are heaps of things half worked out +which might be valuable. Now I was thinking that if I made them all +over to Sypher he might get in some practical fellow to set them +right, and start companies and things to work them, and so make a +lot of money."</p> +<p>He took off his cap and ran his hand up his hair. "There's also +the new gun. I do wish you'd have that, too," he<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> added, +anxiously. "In fact, it was our talk yesterday that put the other +idea into my head."</p> +<p>Sypher clapped him on the shoulder and called him his dear, +generous fellow. But how could he accept?</p> +<p>"They're not all rot," said Septimus pleadingly. "There's a +patent corkscrew which works beautifully. Wiggleswick always uses +it."</p> +<p>Sypher laughed. "Well, I'll tell you what we can do. We can get +a syndicate together to run the Dix inventions, and pay you +royalties on sales."</p> +<p>"That seems a very good idea," said Zora judicially.</p> +<p>But Septimus looked dissatisfied. "I wanted to give them to +Sypher," said he.</p> +<p>Zora reminded him laughingly that he would have to provide for +the future member of Parliament's election expenses. The royalties +would come in handy. She could not take Septimus's inventions +seriously. But Sypher spoke of them later in his enthusiastic +way.</p> +<p>"Who knows? There may be things hidden among his models and +specifications of enormous commercial value. Lots of his inventions +are crazy, but some are bound to be practical. This field gun, for +instance. The genius who could have hit on that is capable of +inventing anything. Why shouldn't I devote my life to spreading the +Dix inventions over the earth? It's a colossal idea. Not one +invention, but fifty—from a corkscrew to a machine gun. It's +better than Sypher's Cure, isn't it?"</p> +<p>She glanced swiftly at him to see whether the last words were +spoken in bitterness. They were not. His face beamed as it had +beamed in the days when he had rhapsodied over the vision of an +earth, one scab, to be healed by Sypher's Cure.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id= +"Page_282"></a>[282]</span>Say you think it's better," he +urged.</p> +<p>"Yes. It's better," she assented. "But it's chimerical."</p> +<p>"So are all the dreams ever dreamed by man. I shouldn't like to +pass my life without dreams, Zora. I could give up tobacco and +alcohol and clean collars and servants, and everything you could +think of—but not dreams. Without them the earth is just a +sort of backyard of a place."</p> +<p>"And with them?" said Zora.</p> +<p>"An infinite garden."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you'll be disillusioned over poor Septimus," she +said, "but I shouldn't like you to take up anything you didn't +believe in. What would be quite honest in another man wouldn't be +honest in you."</p> +<p>"That means," said Sypher, "you wouldn't like to see me going on +dealing in quack medicines?"</p> +<p>Zora flushed red.</p> +<p>"It was at the back of my mind," she confessed. "But I did put +my thoughts into the form of a compliment."</p> +<p>"Zora," said he, "if I fell below what I want to appear in your +eyes, I should lose the dearest dream of all."</p> +<p>In the evening came Septimus to Penton Court to discuss the new +scheme with Sypher. Wiggleswick, with the fear of Zora heavy upon +him, had laid out his master's dinner suit, and Septimus had meekly +put it on. He had also dined in a Christian fashion, for the old +villain could cook a plain dinner creditably when he chose. +Septimus proclaimed the regeneration of his body servant as one of +the innumerable debts he owed to Zora.</p> +<p>"Why do you repay them to me?" asked Sypher.</p> +<p>Then he rose, laughed into the distressed face, and put both his +hands on Septimus's shoulders.</p> +<p>"No, don't try to answer. I know more about you than<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span> you can +possibly conceive, and to me you're transparency itself. But you +see that I can't accept your patents, don't you?"</p> +<p>"I shall never do anything with them."</p> +<p>"Have you tried?"</p> +<p>"No."</p> +<p>"Then I will. It will be a partnership between my business +knowledge and energy and your brains. That will be right and +honorable for the two of us."</p> +<p>Septimus yielded. "If both you and Zora think so, it must be" he +said. But in his heart he was disappointed.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>A few days afterwards Shuttleworth came into Sypher's office, +with an expression of cheerfulness on his dismal countenance.</p> +<p>"Can I have a few moments with you, sir?"</p> +<p>Sypher bade him be seated. Since his defection to the enemy, +Shuttleworth had avoided his chief as much as possible, the excess +of sorrow over anger in the latter's demeanor toward him being hard +to bear. He had slunk about, not daring to meet his eyes. This +morning, however, he reeked of conscious virtue.</p> +<p>"I have a proposal to put before you, with which I think you'll +be pleased," said he.</p> +<p>"I'm glad to hear it," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"I'm proud to say," continued Shuttleworth, "that it was my +suggestion, and that I've carried it through. I was anxious to show +you that I wasn't ungrateful for all your past kindnesses, and my +leaving you was not as disloyal as you may have thought."</p> +<p>"I never accused you of disloyalty," said Sypher. "You had your +wife and children. You did the only thing possible."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id= +"Page_284"></a>[284]</span>You take a load off my mind," said +Shuttleworth.</p> +<p>He drew a long breath, as though relieved from an intolerable +burden.</p> +<p>"What is your proposal?" asked Sypher.</p> +<p>"I am authorized by the Jebusa Jones Company to approach you +with regard to a most advantageous arrangement for both parties. +It's your present intention to close down the factory and shut up +this office as soon as things can be wound up."</p> +<p>"That's my intention," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"You'll come out of it solvent, with just a thousand pounds or +so in your pocket. The Cure will disappear from the face of the +earth."</p> +<p>"Quite so," said Sypher. He leaned back in his chair, and held +an ivory paper-knife in both hands.</p> +<p>"But wouldn't that be an enormous pity?" said Shuttleworth. "The +Cure is known far and wide. Economically financed, and put, more or +less, out of reach of competition it can still be a most valuable +property. Now, it occurred to me that there was no reason why the +Jebusa Jones Company could not run Sypher's Cure side by side with +the Cuticle Remedy. They agree with me. They are willing to come to +terms, whereby they will take over the whole concern as it stands, +with your name, of course, and advertisements and trade-marks, and +pay you a percentage of the profits."</p> +<p>Sypher made no reply. The ivory paper-knife snapped, and he laid +the pieces absently on his desk.</p> +<p>"The advantage to you is obvious," remarked Shuttleworth, who +was beginning to grow uneasy before the sphinx-like attitude of his +chief.</p> +<p>"Quite obvious," said Sypher. Then, after a pause:<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span> "Do +they propose to ask me to manage the Sypher Cure branch?"</p> +<p>The irony was lost on Shuttleworth.</p> +<p>"No—well—not exactly—" he stammered.</p> +<p>Sypher laughed grimly, and checked further explanations.</p> +<p>"That was a joke, Shuttleworth. Haven't you noticed that my +jokes are always rather subtle? No, of course you are to manage the +Cure."</p> +<p>"I know nothing about that, sir," said Shuttleworth hastily.</p> +<p>Sypher rose and walked about the room, saying nothing, and his +manager followed him anxiously with his eyes. Presently he paused +before the cartoon of the famous poster.</p> +<p>"This would be taken over with the rest?"</p> +<p>"I suppose so. It's valuable—part of the good-will."</p> +<p>"And the model of Edinburgh Castle—and the autograph +testimonials, and the 'Clem Sypher. Friend of Humanity'?"</p> +<p>"The model isn't much use. Of course, you could keep that as a +curiosity—"</p> +<p>"In the middle of my drawing-room table," said Sypher, +ironically.</p> +<p>Shuttleworth smiled, guessing that the remark was humorous.</p> +<p>"Well," he said, "that's as you please. But the name and title +naturally are the essence of the matter."</p> +<p>"I see," said Sypher. "'Clem Sypher, Friend of Humanity,' is the +essence of the matter."</p> +<p>"With the secret recipe, of course."</p> +<p>"Of course," said Sypher, absently. He paced the room once or +twice, then halted in front of Shuttleworth, looked<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span> at him +fixedly for a second or two out of his clear eyes and resumed his +walk; which was disconcerting for Shuttleworth, who wiped his +spectacles.</p> +<p>"Do you think we might now go into some details with regard to +terms?"</p> +<p>"No," said Sypher, stopping short of the fireplace, "I don't. +I've got to agree to the principle first."</p> +<p>"But, surely, there's no difficulty about that!" cried +Shuttleworth, rising in consternation. "I can see no earthly +reason—"</p> +<p>"I don't suppose you can," said Sypher. "When do you want an +answer?"</p> +<p>"As soon as possible."</p> +<p>"Come to me in an hour's time and I'll give it you."</p> +<p>Shuttleworth retired. Sypher sat at his desk, his chin in his +hand, and struggled with his soul, which, as all the world knows, +is the most uncomfortable thing a man has to harbor in his bosom. +After a few minutes he rang up a number on the telephone.</p> +<p>"Are you the Shaftesbury Club? Is Mr. Septimus Dix in?"</p> +<p>He knew that Septimus was staying at the club, as he had come to +town to meet Emmy, who had arrived the evening before from +Paris.</p> +<p>Mr. Dix was in. He was just finishing breakfast, and would come +to the telephone. Sypher waited, with his ear to the receiver.</p> +<p>"Is that you, Septimus? It's Clem Sypher speaking. I want you to +come to Moorgate Street at once. It's a matter of immediate +urgency. Get into a hansom and tell the man to drive like the +devil. Thanks."</p> +<p>He resumed his position and sat motionless until, +about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id= +"Page_287"></a>[287]</span> half an hour later, Septimus, very much +scared, was shown into the room.</p> +<p>"I felt sure you were in. I felt sure you would come. There's a +destiny about all this business, and I seem to have a peep into it. +I am going to make myself the damnedest fool of all created +beings—the very damnedest."</p> +<p>Septimus murmured that he was sorry to hear it.</p> +<p>"I hoped you might be glad," said Sypher.</p> +<p>"It depends upon the kind of fool you're going to make of +yourself," cried Septimus, a ray of wonderful lucidity flashing +across his mind. "There's a couplet of Tennyson's—I don't +read poetry, you know," he broke off apologetically, "except a +little Persian. I'm a hard, scientific person, all machinery. My +father used to throw poetry books into the fire if he caught me +with one, but my mother used to read to me now and then—oh, +yes!—Tennyson. It goes: '<i>They called me in the public +squares, The fool that wears a crown of thorn</i>.' That's the best +kind of a fool to be." He suddenly looked round. "Dear me; I've +left my umbrella in the cab. That's the worst kind of a fool to +be."</p> +<p>He smiled wanly, dropped his bowler hat on the floor, and +eventually sat down.</p> +<p>"I want to tell you something," said Sypher, standing on the +hearthrug with his hands on his hips. "I've just had an offer from +the Jebusa Jones Company."</p> +<p>Septimus listened intently while he told the story, wondering +greatly why he, of all unbusinesslike, unpractical people—in +spite of his friendship with Sypher—should be summoned so +urgently to hear it. If he had suspected that in reality he was +playing the part of an animated conscience, he would have shriveled +up through fright and confusion.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id= +"Page_288"></a>[288]</span>Said Sypher: "If I accept this offer I +shall have a fair income for the rest of my days. I can go where I +like, and do what I like. Not a soul can call my commercial honesty +in question. No business man, in his senses, would refuse it. If I +decline, I start the world again with empty pockets. What shall I +do? Tell me."</p> +<p>"I?" said Septimus, with his usual gesture of diffidence. "I'm +such a silly ass in such things."</p> +<p>"Never mind," said Sypher. "I'll do just what you would do."</p> +<p>Septimus reflected, and said, hesitatingly:</p> +<p>"I think I should do what Zora would like. She doesn't mind +empty pockets."</p> +<p>Sypher dashed his hand across his forehead, and broke into a +loud cry.</p> +<p>"I knew you would say that. I brought you here to say it! Thank +God! I love her, Septimus. I love her with every fiber in me. If I +had sold my name to these people I should have sold my honor. I +should have sold my birthright for a mess of pottage. I couldn't +have looked her in the face again. Whether she will marry me or not +has nothing to do with it. It would have had nothing to do with it +in your case. You would have been the best kind of fool and so +shall I."</p> +<p>He swung about the room greatly excited, his ebullient nature +finding in words relief from past tension. He laughed aloud, +proclaimed his love for Zora, shook his somewhat bewildered friend +by the hand, and informed him that he, Septimus, alone of mortals, +was responsible for the great decision. And while Septimus wondered +what the deuce he meant, he rang the bell and summoned +Shuttleworth.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id= +"Page_289"></a>[289]</span>The dismal manager entered the room. On +seeing Sypher's cheery face, his own brightened.</p> +<p>"I've thought the matter over, Shuttleworth."</p> +<p>"And you've decided—"</p> +<p>"To refuse the offer, absolutely."</p> +<p>The manager gasped. "But, Mr. Sypher, have you +reflected—"</p> +<p>"My good Shuttleworth," said Sypher, "in all the years we've +worked together have you ever known me to say I've made up my mind +when I haven't?"</p> +<p>Shuttleworth marched out of the room and banged the door, and +went forth to declare to the world his opinion of Clem Sypher. He +had always been half crazy; now he had gone stick, stark, staring, +raving, biting mad. And those to whom he told the tale agreed with +him.</p> +<p>But Sypher laughed his great laugh.</p> +<p>"Poor Shuttleworth! He has worked hard to bring off this deal. +I'm sorry for him. But one can't serve God and Mammon."</p> +<p>Septimus rose and took his hat. "I think it awfully wonderful of +you," he said. "I really do. I should like to talk to you about +it—but I must go and see Emmy. She came last night."</p> +<p>Sypher inquired politely after her health, also that of her +baby.</p> +<p>"He's taking such a deuce of a time to grow up," said Septimus. +"Otherwise he's well. He's got a tooth. I've been wondering why no +dentist has ever invented a set of false teeth for babies."</p> +<p>"Then your turn would come," laughed Sypher, "for you would have +to invent them a cast-iron inside."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id= +"Page_290"></a>[290]</span>Before Septimus went, Sypher thrust a +gold-headed umbrella into his hands.</p> +<p>"It's pouring with rain, and you'll wade about and get wet +through. I make a rule never to lend umbrellas, so I give you this +from a grateful heart. God bless you."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span>CHAPTER +XXII</h2> +<p>The little flat in Chelsea, cleaned, swept and garnished by the +wife of the porter of the Mansions, received Emmy, her babe, Madame +Bolivard and multitudinous luggage. All the pretty fripperies and +frivolities had been freshened and refurbished since their +desecration at alien hands, and the place looked cheery and +homelike; but Emmy found it surprisingly small, and was amazed to +discover the prodigious space taken up by the baby. When she drew +Septimus's attention to this phenomenon he accounted for it by +saying that it was because he had such a very big name, which was +an excellent thing in that it would enable him to occupy a great +deal of room in the universe when he grew up.</p> +<p>She busied herself all the morning about the flat, happier than +she had been for a whole year. Her days of Hagardom were over. The +menacing shadow of the finger of scorn pointing at her from every +airt of heaven had disappeared. A clear sky welcomed her as she +came back to take up an acknowledged position in the world. The +sense of release from an intolerable ban outweighed the bitterness +of old associations. She was at home, in London, among dear +familiar things and faces. She was almost happy.</p> +<p>When Madame Bolivard appeared with bonnet and basket +undismayedly prepared to market for lunch and dinner, she laughed +like a schoolgirl, and made her repeat the list of English words +she had taught her in view of this<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_292" id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span> contingency. She could +say "cabbage," "sugar," "lettuce," and ask for all sorts of +things.</p> +<p>"But suppose you lose your way, Madame Bolivard?"</p> +<p>"I shall find it, madame."</p> +<p>"But how will you ask for directions? You know you can't say +'Ecclefechan Mansions.'"</p> +<p>Madame Bolivard made a hopeless, spluttering sound as if she +were blowing teeth out of her mouth, which in no wise resembled the +name of the place wherein she dwelt. But Madame Bolivard, as has +been remarked, was a <i>brave femme</i>; and <i>allons donc!</i> +this was the least of the difficulties she had had to encounter +during her life. Emmy bade her godspeed in her perils among the +greengrocers.</p> +<p>She went blithely about her household tasks, and sang and cooed +deliciously to the child lying in its bassinette. Every now and +then she looked at the clock over the mantelpiece, wondering why +Septimus had not come. Only in the depths of her heart—depths +which humans in their every-day life dare not sound too +frequently—did she confess how foolishly she longed for him. +He was late. With Emmy, Septimus never broke an appointment. To +insure his being at a certain place at a certain time to meet her +he took the most ingenious and complicated precautions. Before now +he had dressed overnight and gone to sleep in his clothes so as to +be ready when the servant called him in the morning. Emmy, knowing +this, after the way of women began to grow anxious. When, +therefore, she opened the flat door to him she upbraided him with +considerable tenderness.</p> +<p>"It was Clem Sypher," he explained, taking off his overcoat. "He +sent for me. He wanted me badly. Why, I don't know. At least I do +half know, but the other half I don't. He's a magnificent +fellow."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id= +"Page_293"></a>[293]</span>A little later, after Septimus had +inspected her morning's work in the flat, and the night's progress +in the boy's tooth, and the pretty new blouse which she had put on +in his honor, and the rose in her bosom taken from the bunch he had +sent to greet her arrival in the flat the night before, and after +he had heard of the valorous adventure of Madame Bolivard and of a +message from Hégisippe Cruchot which she had forgotten to +deliver overnight, and of an announcement from Zora to the effect +that she would call at Ecclefechan Mansions soon after lunch, and +of many things of infinite importance, Emmy asked him what Clem +Sypher had been doing, and wherein lay the particular magnificence +of character to which Septimus had alluded.</p> +<p>"He's awfully splendid," said Septimus. "He has given up a +fortune for the sake of an idea. He also gave me an umbrella and +his blessing. Emmy"—he looked at her in sudden +alarm—"did I bring an umbrella with me?"</p> +<p>"You did, dear, and you put it in the stand; but what you've +done with the blessing, I don't know."</p> +<p>"I've got it in my heart," said he. "He's a tremendous +chap."</p> +<p>Emmy's curiosity was excited. She sat on the fender seat and +bent forward, her hands on her knees, in a pretty girlish attitude +and fixed her forget-me-not eyes on him.</p> +<p>"Tell me all about it."</p> +<p>He obeyed and expounded Sypher's quixotism in his roundabout +fashion. He concluded by showing her how it had been done for +Zora's sake.</p> +<p>Emmy made a little gesture of impatience.</p> +<p>"Zora!" she exclaimed jealously. "It's always Zora. To see how +you men go on, one would think there was no other woman in the +world. Every one does crazy things<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_294" id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span> for her, and she looks on +calmly and never does a hand's turn for anybody. Clem Sypher's a +jolly sight too good for her."</p> +<p>Septimus looked pained at the disparagement of his goddess. Emmy +sprang to her feet and put her finger-tips on his shoulders.</p> +<p>"Forgive me, dear. Women are cats—I've often told +you—and love to scratch even those they're fond of. Sometimes +the more they love them the harder they scratch. But I won't +scratch you any more. Indeed I won't."</p> +<p>The sound of the latch-key was heard in the front door.</p> +<p>"There's Madame Bolivard," she cried. "I must see what miracle +of loaves and fishes she has performed. Do mind baby till I come +back."</p> +<p>She danced out of the room, and Septimus sat on a +straight-backed chair beside the bassinette. The baby—he was +a rather delicate child considerably undergrown for his age, but a +placid, uncomplaining little mortal—looked at Septimus out of +his blue and white china eyes and contorted his india-rubber +features into a muddle indicative of pleasure, and Septimus smiled +cordially at the baby.</p> +<p>"William Octavius Oldrieve Dix," he murmured—an apostrophe +which caused the future statesman a paroxysm of amusement—"I +am exceedingly glad to see you. I hope you like London. We're great +friends, aren't we? And when you grow up, we're going to be +greater. I don't want you to have anything to do with machinery. It +stops your heart beating and makes you cold and unsympathetic and +prevents women from loving you. You mustn't invent things. That's +why I am going to make you a Member of Parliament—a +Conservative member."</p> +<p>William Octavius, who had been listening +attentively,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id= +"Page_295"></a>[295]</span> suddenly chuckled, as if he had seen a +joke. Septimus's gaze conveyed sedate reproof.</p> +<p>"When you laugh you show such a deuce of a lot of gum—like +Wiggleswick," said he.</p> +<p>The baby made no reply. The conversation languished. Septimus +bent down to examine the tooth, and the baby clutched a tiny +fistful of upstanding hair as a reaper clutches a handful of wheat. +Septimus smiled and kissed the little crinkled, bubbly lips and +fell into a reverie. William Octavius went fast asleep.</p> +<p>When Emmy returned she caught an appealing glance from Septimus +and rescued him, a new Absalom.</p> +<p>"You dear thing," she cried, "why didn't you do it +yourself?"</p> +<p>"I was afraid of waking him. It's dangerous to wake babies +suddenly. No, it isn't babies; it's somnambulists. But he may be +one, you see, and as he can't walk we can't tell. I wonder whether +I could invent an apparatus for preventing somnambulists from doing +themselves damage."</p> +<p>Emmy laughed. "You can invent nothing so wonderful as Madame +Bolivard," she cried gaily. "She is contemptuous of the dangers of +English marketing. 'The people understood me at once,' she said. +She evidently has a poor opinion of them."</p> +<p>Septimus stayed to lunch, a pleasant meal which made them bless +Hégisippe Cruchot for introducing them to the aunt who could +cook. So far did their gratitude go that Septimus remarked that it +would only be decent to add "Hégisippe" to the baby's names. +But Emmy observed that he should have thought of that before; the +boy had already been christened; it was too late. They drank the +Zouave's health instead in some fearful and wonderful +red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id= +"Page_296"></a>[296]</span> wine which Madame Bolivard had procured +from heaven knows what purveyor of dangerous chemicals. They +thought it excellent.</p> +<p>"I wonder," said Emmy, "whether you know what this means to +me."</p> +<p>"It's home," replied Septimus, with an approving glance around +the little dining-room. "You must get me a flat just like +this."</p> +<p>"Close by?"</p> +<p>"If it's too close I might come here too often."</p> +<p>"Do you think that possible?" she said, with as much wistfulness +as she dare allow herself. "Besides, you have a right."</p> +<p>Septimus explained that as a Master of Arts of the University of +Cambridge he had a right to play marbles on the Senate House steps, +a privilege denied by statute to persons <i>in statu pupillari</i>, +but that he would be locked up as a lunatic if he insisted on +exercising it.</p> +<p>After a pause Emmy looked at him, and said with sudden +tragicality:</p> +<p>"I'm not a horrible, hateful worry to you, Septimus?"</p> +<p>"Lord, no," said Septimus.</p> +<p>"You don't wish you had never set eyes on me?"</p> +<p>"My dear girl!" said Septimus.</p> +<p>"And you wouldn't rather go on living quietly at Nunsmere and +not bother about me any more? Do tell me the truth."</p> +<p>Septimus's hand went to his hair. He was unversed in the ways of +women.</p> +<p>"I thought all that was settled long ago," he said. "I'm such a +useless creature. You give me something to think about, and the +boy, and his education, and his teeth. And<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span> he'll +have whooping cough and measles and breeches and things, and it +will be frightfully interesting."</p> +<p>Emmy, elbow on table and chin in hand, smiled at him with a +touch of audacity in her forget-me-not eyes.</p> +<p>"I believe you're more interested in the boy than you are in +me."</p> +<p>Septimus reddened and stammered, unable, as usual, to express +his feelings. He kept to the question of interest.</p> +<p>"It's so different," said he. "I look on the boy as a kind of +invention."</p> +<p>She persisted. "And what am I?"</p> +<p>He had one of his luminous inspirations.</p> +<p>"You," said he, "are a discovery."</p> +<p>Emmy laughed. "I do believe you like me a little bit, after +all."</p> +<p>"You've got such beautiful finger-nails," said he.</p> +<p>Madame Bolivard brought in the coffee. Septimus in the act of +lifting the cup from tray to table let it fall through his nervous +fingers, and the coffee streamed over the dainty table-cloth. +Madame Bolivard appealed fervently to the Deity, but Emmy smiled +proudly as if the spilling of coffee was a rare social +accomplishment.</p> +<p>Soon after this Septimus went to his club with orders to return +for tea, leaving Emmy to prepare for her meeting with Zora. He had +offered to be present at this first interview so as to give her his +support, and corroborate whatever statement as to his turpitudes +she might care to make in explanation of their decision to live +apart. But Emmy preferred to fight her battle single-handed. Alone +he had saved the situation by his very vagueness. In conjunction +with herself there was no knowing what he might do, for she had +resolved to exonerate him from all blame and to<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span> +attribute to her own infirmities of disposition this calamitous +result of their marriage.</p> +<p>Now that the hour of meeting approached she grew nervous. Unlike +Zora, she had not inherited her father's fearlessness and joy of +battle. The touch of adventurous spirit which she had received from +him had been her undoing, as it had led her into temptation which +the gentle, weak character derived from her mother had been +powerless to resist. All her life she had been afraid of Zora, +subdued by her splendid vitality, humbled before her more generous +accomplishment. And now she was to fight for her honor and her +child's and at the same time for the tender chivalry of the odd, +beloved creature that was her husband. She armed herself with +woman's weapons, and put on a brave face, though her heart thumped +like some devilish machine, racking her mercilessly.</p> +<p>The bell rang. She bent over the boy asleep in the bassinette +and gave a mother's touch or two to the tiny coverlet. She heard +the flat door open and Zora's rich voice inquire for Mrs. Dix. Then +Zora, splendid, deep bosomed, glowing with color, bringing with her +a perfume of furs and violets, sailed into the room and took her +into her arms. Emmy felt fluffy and insignificant.</p> +<p>"How well you're looking, dear. I declare you are prettier than +ever. You've filled out. I didn't come the first thing this morning +as I wanted to, because I knew you would find everything +topsy-turvy in the flat. Septimus is a dear, but I haven't much +faith in his domestic capabilities."</p> +<p>"The flat was in perfect order," said Emmy. "Even that bunch of +roses in a jar."</p> +<p>"Did he remember to put in the water?"</p> +<p>Zora laughed, meaning to be kind and generous, to +make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id= +"Page_299"></a>[299]</span> it evident to Emmy that she had not +come as a violent partisan of Septimus, and to lay a pleasant, +familiar foundation for the discussion in prospect. But Emmy +resented the note of disparagement.</p> +<p>"Of course he did," she said shortly.</p> +<p>Zora flew to the bassinette and glowed womanlike over the baby. +A beautiful child, one to be proud of indeed. Why hadn't Emmy dear +proclaimed his uniqueness in the world of infants? From the +references in her letters he might have been the ordinary baby of +every cradle.</p> +<p>"Oh, you ought to be such a happy woman!" she cried, taking off +her furs and throwing them over the back of a chair. "Such a happy +woman!"</p> +<p>An involuntary sigh shook her. The first words had been intended +to convey a gentle reproof; nature had compelled the reiteration on +her own account.</p> +<p>"I'm happy enough," said Emmy.</p> +<p>"I wish you could say that with more conviction, dear. 'Happy +enough' generally means 'pretty miserable.' Why should you be +miserable?"</p> +<p>"I'm not. I have more happiness than I deserve. I don't deserve +much."</p> +<p>Zora put her arm round her sister's waist.</p> +<p>"Never mind, dear. We'll try to make you happier."</p> +<p>Emmy submitted to the caress for a while and then freed herself +gently. She did not reply. Not all the trying of Zora and all the +Ladies Bountiful of Christendom could give her her heart's desire. +Besides, Zora, with her large air of smiling <i>dea ex machina</i> +was hopelessly out of tone with her mood. She picked up the +furs.</p> +<p>"How lovely. They're new. Where did you get them?"</p> +<p>The talk turned on ordinary topics. They had not met<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a>[300]</span> for a +year, and they spoke of trivial happenings. Emmy touched lightly on +her life in Paris. They exchanged information as to their +respective journeys. Emmy had had a good crossing the day before, +but Madame Bolivard, who had faced the hitherto unknown perils of +the deep with unflinching courage, had been dreadfully seasick. The +boy had slept most of the time. Awake he had been as good as +gold.</p> +<p>"He's the sweetest tempered child under the sun."</p> +<p>"Like his father," said Zora, "who is both sweet tempered and a +child."</p> +<p>The words were a dagger in Emmy's heart. She turned away swiftly +lest Zora should see the pain in her eyes. The intensity of the +agony had been unforeseen.</p> +<p>"I hope the little mite has a spice of the devil from our side +of the family," added Zora, "or it will go hard with him. That's +what's wrong with poor Septimus."</p> +<p>Emmy turned with a flash. "There's nothing wrong with Septimus. +I wouldn't change him for any man in the world."</p> +<p>Zora raised surprised eyebrows and made the obvious retort:</p> +<p>"Then, my dear, why on earth don't you live with him?"</p> +<p>Emmy shrugged her shoulders, and looked out of the window. There +was a block of flats over the way, and a young woman at a window +immediately opposite was also looking out. This irritated her. She +resented being stared at by a young woman in a flat. She left the +window and sat on the sofa.</p> +<p>"Don't you think, Zora, you might let Septimus and myself +arrange things as we think best? I assure you we are quite capable +of looking after ourselves. We meet in the friendliest way +possible, but we have decided to occupy<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a>[301]</span> +separate houses. It's a matter that concerns ourselves +entirely."</p> +<p>Zora was prepared for this attitude, which she had resolved not +to countenance. She had come, in all her bravery, to bring Emmy to +her senses. Emmy should be brought. She left the bassinette and sat +down near her sister and smiled indulgently.</p> +<p>"My dearest child, if you were so-called 'advanced people' and +held all sorts of outrageous views, I might understand you. But you +are two very ordinary folk with no views at all. You never had any +in your life, and if Septimus had one he would be so terribly +afraid of it that he would chain it up. I'm quite certain you +married without any idea save that of sticking together. Now, why +haven't you?"</p> +<p>"I make Septimus miserable. I can't help it. Sooner than make +him unhappy I insist upon this arrangement. There!"</p> +<p>"Then I think you are very wicked and heartless and selfish," +said Zora.</p> +<p>"I am," said Emmy defiantly.</p> +<p>"Your duty is to make him happy. It would take so little to do +that. You ought to give him a comfortable home and teach him to +realize his responsibilities toward the child."</p> +<p>Again the stab. Emmy's nerve began to give way. For the first +time came the wild notion of facing Zora with the whole disastrous +story. She dismissed it as crazy.</p> +<p>"I tell you things can't be altered."</p> +<p>"But why? I can't imagine you so monstrous. Give me your +confidence, darling."</p> +<p>"There's nothing to give."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id= +"Page_302"></a>[302]</span>I'm sure I could put things right for +you at once if I knew what was wrong. If it's anything to do with +Septimus," she added in her unwisdom and with a charming +proprietary smile, "why, I can make him do whatever I like."</p> +<p>"Even if we had quarreled," cried Emmy, losing control of her +prudence, "do you suppose I would let <i>you</i> bring him back to +me?"</p> +<p>"But why not?"</p> +<p>"Have you been so blind all this time as not to see?"</p> +<p>Emmy knew her words were vain and dangerous, but the attitude of +her sister, calm and confident, assuming her air of gracious +patronage, irritated her beyond endurance. Zora's smile deepened +into indulgent laughter.</p> +<p>"My dearest Emmy, you don't mean to say that it's jealousy of +me? But it's too ridiculous. Do you suppose I've ever thought of +Septimus in that way?"</p> +<p>"You've thought of him just as you used to think of the +bob-tailed sheep dog we had when we were children."</p> +<p>"Well, dear, you were never jealous of my attachment to Bobbie +or Bobbie's devotion to me," said Zora, smilingly logical. "Come, +dear, I knew there was only some silly nonsense at the bottom of +this. Look. I'll resign every right I have in poor Septimus."</p> +<p>Emmy rose. "If you call him 'poor Septimus' and speak of him in +that tone, you'll drive me mad. It's you that are wicked and +heartless and selfish."</p> +<p>"I?" cried Zora, aghast.</p> +<p>"Yes, you. You accept the love and adoration of the noblest +gentleman that God ever put into the world, and you treat him and +talk of him as if he were a creature of no account. If you were +worthy of being loved by him, I<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_303" id="Page_303"></a>[303]</span> shouldn't he jealous. But +you're not. You've been so wrapped up in your own magnificence that +you've not even condescended to notice that he loved you. And even +now, when I tell you, you laugh, as if it were preposterous that +'poor Septimus' could ever dare to love you. You drive me mad."</p> +<p>Zora drew herself up angrily. To make allowances for a silly +girl's jealousy was one thing; it was another to be accused in this +vehement fashion. Conscious of her innocence, she said:</p> +<p>"Your attack on me is entirely unjustifiable, Emmy. I have done +nothing."</p> +<p>"That's why," retorted Emmy quickly. "You've done nothing. Men +are sacrificing their lives and fortunes for you, and you do +nothing."</p> +<p>"Lives and fortunes? What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I mean what I say," cried Emmy desperately. "Septimus has done +everything short of laying down his life for you, and that he would +have done if necessary, and you haven't even taken the trouble to +see the soul in the man that was capable of it. And now that +something has happened which you can't help seeing you come in your +grand way to put it all to rights in a minute. You think I've +turned him out because he's a good-natured worry like Bobbie, the +bob-tailed sheep dog, and you say, 'Poor fellow, see how pitifully +he's wagging his tail. It's cruel of you not to let him in.' That's +the way you look at Septimus, and I can't stand it and I won't. I +love him as I never dreamed a woman could love a man. I could tear +myself into little pieces for him bit by bit. And I can't get him. +He's as far removed from me as the stars in heaven. You could never +understand. I pray every night to God<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_304" id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span> to forgive me, and to +work a miracle and bring him to me. But miracles don't happen. +He'll never come to me. He can't come to me. While you have been +patronizing him, patting him on the head, playing Lady Bountiful to +him—as you are doing to the other man who has given up a +fortune this very morning just because he loves you—while +you've been doing this and despising him—yes, you know you do +in your heart, for a simple, good-natured, half-witted creature who +amuses himself with crazy inventions, he has done a thing to save +you from pain and shame and sorrow—you, not me—because +he loved you. And now I love him. I would give all I have in life +for the miracle to happen. But it can't. Don't you understand? It +can't!"</p> +<p>She stood panting in front of Zora, a passionate woman obeying +elemental laws; and when passionate women obey elemental laws they +are reckless in speech and overwhelming in assertion and +denunciation. Emmy was the first whom Zora had encountered. She was +bewildered by the storm of words, and could only say, rather +stupidly:</p> +<p>"Why can't it?"</p> +<p>Emmy thew two or three short breaths. The notion had come again. +The temptation was irresistible. Zora should know, having brought +it on herself. She opened the door.</p> +<p>"Madame Bolivard!" she cried. And when the Frenchwoman appeared +she pointed to the bassinette.</p> +<p>"Take baby into the bedroom. It will be better for him +there."</p> +<p>"<i>Bien, madame</i>," said Madame Bolivard, taking up the +child. And when the door had closed behind her Emmy pointed to it +and said:</p> +<p>"That's why."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id= +"Page_305"></a>[305]</span>Zora started forward, horror +stricken.</p> +<p>"Emmy, what do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I'll tell you. I couldn't with him in the room. I should always +fancy that he had heard me, and I want him to respect and love his +mother."</p> +<p>"Emmy!" cried Zora. "Emmy! What are you saying? Your son not +respect you—if he knew—do you mean...?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Emmy, "I do—Septimus went through the marriage +ceremony with me and gave us his name. That's why we are living +apart. Now you know."</p> +<p>"My God!" said Zora.</p> +<p>"Do you remember the last night I was at Nunsmere?"</p> +<p>"Yes. You fainted."</p> +<p>"I had seen the announcement of the man's marriage in the +newspaper."</p> +<p>She told her story briefly and defiantly, asking for no +sympathy, proclaiming it all <i>ad majorem Septimi gloriam</i>. +Zora sat looking at her paralyzed with helplessness, like one who, +having gone lightly forth to shoot rabbits, suddenly comes upon a +lion.</p> +<p>"Why didn't you tell me—at the time—before?"</p> +<p>"Did you ever encourage me to give you my confidence? You patted +me on the head, too, and never concerned yourself about my affairs. +I was afraid of you—deadly afraid of you. It sounds rather +silly now, doesn't it? But I was."</p> +<p>Zora made no protest against the accusation. She sat quite +still, her eyes fixed on the foot of the bassinette, adjusting her +soul to new and startling conceptions. She said in a whisper:</p> +<p>"My God, what a fool I've been!"</p> +<p>The words lingered a haunting echo in her ears. They<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>[306]</span> were +mockingly familiar. Where had she heard them recently? Suddenly she +remembered. She raised her head and glanced at Emmy in anything but +a proud way.</p> +<p>"You said something just now about Clem Sypher having sacrificed +a fortune for me. What was it? I had better hear everything."</p> +<p>Emmy sat on the fender stool, as she had done when Septimus had +told her the story, and repeated it for Zora's benefit.</p> +<p>"You say he sent for Septimus this morning?" said Zora in a low +voice. "Do you think he knows—about you two?"</p> +<p>"It is possible that he guesses," replied Emmy, to whom +Hégisippe Cruchot's indiscretion had been reported. +"Septimus has not told him."</p> +<p>"I ask," said Zora, "because, since my return, he has seemed to +look on Septimus as a sort of inspired creature. I begin to see +things I never saw before."</p> +<p>There was silence. Emmy gripped the mantelpiece and, head on +arm, looked into the fire. Zora sat lost in her expanding vision. +Presently Emmy said without turning round:</p> +<p>"You mustn't turn away from me now—for Septimus's sake. He +loves the boy as if he were his own. Whatever wrong I've done I've +suffered for it. Once I was a frivolous, unbalanced, unprincipled +little fool. I'm a woman now—and a good woman, thanks to him. +To live in the same atmosphere as that exquisite delicacy of soul +is enough to make one good. No other man on earth could have done +what he has done and in the way he has done it. I can't help loving +him. I can't help eating my heart out for him. That's my +punishment."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id= +"Page_307"></a>[307]</span>This time the succeeding silence was +broken by a half-checked sob. Emmy started round, and beheld Zora +crying silently to herself among the sofa cushions. Emmy was +amazed. Zora, the magnificent, had broken down, and was weeping +like any silly fool of a girl. It was real crying; not the shedding +of the tears of sensibility which often stood in her generous eyes. +Emmy moved gently across the room—she was a soft-hearted, +affectionate woman—and knelt by the sofa.</p> +<p>"Zora, dear."</p> +<p>Zora, with an immense longing for love, caught her sister in her +arms, and the two women wept very happily together. It was thus +that Septimus, returning for tea, as he was bidden, found them some +while afterwards.</p> +<p>Zora rose, her lashes still wet, and whipped up her furs.</p> +<p>"But you're not going?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I'll leave you two together. I'll do what I can. +Septimus—" She caught him by the arm and drew him a step or +two towards the door. "Emmy has told me everything. Oh, you needn't +look frightened, dear. I'm not going to thank you—" Her voice +broke on the laugh. "I should only make a fool of myself. Some +other time. I only want to say, don't you think you would be +more—more cosy and comfortable if you let her take care of +you altogether? She's breaking her heart for love of you, Septimus, +and she would make you happy."</p> +<p>She rushed out of the room, and before the pair could recover +from their confusion they heard the flat door slam behind her.</p> +<p>Emmy looked at Septimus with a great scare in her blue eyes. She +said something about taking no notice of what Zora said.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id= +"Page_308"></a>[308]</span>But is it true?" he asked.</p> +<p>She said with her back against the wall:</p> +<p>"Do you think it very amazing that I should care for you?"</p> +<p>Septimus ran his hands vehemently up his hair till it reached +the climax of Struwel Peterdom. The most wonderful thing in his +life had happened. A woman loved him. It upset all his preconceived +notions of his place in the universe.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do," he answered. "It makes my head spin round." He +found himself close to her. "Do you mean that you love +me"—his voice grew tremulous—"as if I were an ordinary +man?"</p> +<p>"No," she cried, with a half laugh. "Of course I don't. How +could I love an ordinary man as I love you?"</p> +<p>Neither could tell afterwards how it happened. Emmy called the +walls to witness that she did not throw herself into his arms, and +Septimus's natural timidity precluded the possibility of his having +seized her in his; but she stood for a long, throbbing time in his +embrace, while he kissed her on the lips and gave all his heart +into her keeping.</p> +<p>They sat down together on the fender seat.</p> +<p>"When a man does that," said Septimus, as if struck by a +luminous idea, "I suppose he asks the girl to marry him."</p> +<p>"But we are married already," she cried joyously.</p> +<p>"Dear me," said Septimus, "so we are. I forgot. It's very +puzzling, isn't it? I think, if you don't mind, I'll kiss you +again."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span>CHAPTER +XXIII</h2> +<p>Zora went straight back to her hotel sitting-room. There, +without taking off her hat or furs, she wrote a swift, long letter +to Clem Sypher, and summoning the waiter, ordered him to post it at +once. When he had gone she reflected for a few moments and sent off +a telegram. After a further brief period of reflection she went +down-stairs and rang up Sypher's office on the telephone.</p> +<p>The mere man would have tried the telephone first, then sent the +telegram, and after that the explanatory letter. Woman has her own +way of doing things.</p> +<p>Sypher was in. He would have finished for the day in about +twenty minutes. Then he would come to her on the nearest approach +to wings London locomotion provided.</p> +<p>"Remember, it's something most particular that I want to see you +about," said Zora. "Good-by."</p> +<p>She rang off, and went up-stairs again, removed the traces of +tears from her face and changed her dress. For a few moments she +regarded her outward semblance somewhat anxiously in the glass, +unconscious of a new coquetry. Then she sat down before the +sitting-room fire and looked at the inner Zora Middlemist.</p> +<p>There was never woman, since the world began, more cast down +from her high estate. Not a shred of magnificence remained. She saw +herself as the most useless, vaporing and purblind of mortals. She +had gone forth from the despised Nunsmere, where nothing ever +happened, to travel the world over in search of realities, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id= +"Page_310"></a>[310]</span>had returned to find that Nunsmere had +all the time been the center of the realities that most deeply +concerned her life. While she had been talking others had been +living. The three beings whom she had honored with her royal and +somewhat condescending affection had all done great things, passed +through flames and issued thence purified with love in their +hearts. Emmy, Septimus, Sypher, all in their respective ways, had +grappled with essentials. She alone had done nothing—she the +strong, the sane, the capable, the magnificent. She had been a +tinsel failure. So far out of touch had she been with the real warm +things of life which mattered that she had not even gained her +sister's confidence. Had she done so from her girlhood up, the +miserable tragedy might not have happened. She had failed in a +sister's elementary duty.</p> +<p>As a six weeks' wife, what had she done save shiver with a +splendid disgust? Another woman would have fought and perhaps have +conquered. She had made no attempt, and the poor wretch dead, she +had trumpeted abroad her crude opinion of the sex to which he +belonged. At every turn she had seen it refuted. For many months +she had known it to be vain and false; and Nature, who with all her +faults is at least not a liar, had spoken over and over again. She +had raised a fine storm of argument, but Nature had laughed. So had +the Literary Man from London. She had a salutary vision of herself +as the common geck and gull of the queerly assorted pair. She +recognized that in order to work out any problem of life one must +accept life's postulates and axioms. Even her mother, from whose +gentle lips she rarely expected to hear wisdom, had said: "I don't +see how you're going to 'live,' dear, without a man to take care of +you." Her mother was right, Nature <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_311" id="Page_311"></a>[311]</span>was right, Rattenden was +right. She, Zora Middlemist, had been hopelessly wrong.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>When Sypher arrived she welcomed him with an unaccustomed +heart-beat. The masterful grip of his hands as they held hers gave +her a new throb of pleasure. She glanced into his eyes and saw +there the steady love of a strong, clean soul. She glanced away and +hung her head, feeling unworthy.</p> +<p>"What's this most particular thing you have to say to me?" he +asked, with a smile.</p> +<p>"I can't tell it to you like this. Let us sit down. Draw up that +chair to the fire."</p> +<p>When they were seated, she said:</p> +<p>"I want first to ask you a question or two. Do you know why +Septimus married my sister? Be quite frank, for I know +everything."</p> +<p>"Yes," he said gravely, "I knew. I found it out in one or two +odd ways. Septimus hasn't the faintest idea."</p> +<p>Zora picked up an illustrated weekly from the floor and used it +as a screen, ostensibly from the fire, really from Sypher.</p> +<p>"Why did you refuse the Jebusa Jones offer this morning?"</p> +<p>"What would you have thought of me if I had accepted? But +Septimus shouldn't have told you."</p> +<p>"He didn't. He told Emmy, who told me. You did it for my +sake?"</p> +<p>"Everything I do is for your sake. You know that well +enough."</p> +<p>"Why did you send for Septimus?"</p> +<p>"Why are you putting me through this interrogatory?" he +laughed.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id= +"Page_312"></a>[312]</span>You will learn soon," said Zora. "I want +to get everything clear in my mind. I've had a great shock. I feel +as if I had been beaten all over. For the first time I recognize +the truth of the proverb about a woman, a dog, and a walnut tree. +Why did you send for Septimus?"</p> +<p>Sypher leaned back in his chair, and as the illustrated paper +prevented him from seeing Zora's face, he looked reflectively at +the fire.</p> +<p>"I've always told you that I am superstitious. Septimus seems to +be gifted with an unconscious sense of right in an infinitely +higher degree than any man I have ever known. His dealings with +Emmy showed it. His sending for you to help me showed it. He has +shown it in a thousand ways. If it hadn't been for him and his +influence on my mind I don't think I should have come to that +decision. When I had come to it, I just wanted him. Why, I can't +tell you."</p> +<p>"I suppose you knew that he was in love with me?" said Zora in +the same even tone.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Sypher. "That's why he married your sister."</p> +<p>"Do you know why—in the depths of his heart—he sent +me the tail of the little dog?"</p> +<p>"He knew somehow that it was right. I believe it was. I tell you +I'm superstitious. But in what absolute way it was right I can't +imagine."</p> +<p>"I can," said Zora. "He knew that my place was by your side. He +knew that I cared for you more than for any man alive." She paused. +Then she said deliberately: "He knew that I loved you all the +time."</p> +<p>Sypher plucked the illustrated paper from her hand and cast it +across the room, and, bending over the arm of his chair, seized her +wrist.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id= +"Page_313"></a>[313]</span>Zora, do you mean that?"</p> +<p>She nodded, fluttered a glance at him, and put out her free hand +to claim a few moments' grace.</p> +<p>"I left you to look for a mission in life. I've come back and +found it at the place I started from. It's a big mission, for it +means being a mate to a big man. But if you will let me try, I'll +do my best."</p> +<p>Sypher thrust away the protecting hand.</p> +<p>"You can talk afterwards," he said.</p> +<p>Thus did Zora come to the knowledge of things real. When the +gates were opened, she walked in with a tread not wanting in +magnificence. She made the great surrender, which is woman's +greatest victory, very proudly, very humbly, very deliciously. She +had her greatnesses.</p> +<p>She freed herself, flushed and trembling, throbbing with a +strange happiness that caught her breath. This time she believed +Nature, and laughed with her in her heart in close companionship. +She was mere woman after all, with no mission in life but the +accomplishment of her womanhood, and she gloried in the knowledge. +This was exceedingly good for her. Sypher regarded her with shining +eyes as if she had been an immortal vesting herself in human clay +for divine love of him; and this was exceedingly good for Sypher. +After much hyperbole they descended to kindly commonplace.</p> +<p>"But I don't see now," he cried, "how I can ask you to marry me. +I don't even know how I'm to earn my living."</p> +<p>"There are Septimus's inventions. Have you lost your faith in +them?"</p> +<p>He cried with sudden enthusiasm, as who should say, if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id= +"Page_314"></a>[314]</span>an Immortal has faith in them, then +indeed must they be divine:</p> +<p>"Do you believe in them now?"</p> +<p>"Utterly. I've grown superstitious, too. Wherever we turn there +is Septimus. He has raised Emmy from hell to heaven. He has brought +us two together. He is our guardian angel. He'll never fail us. Oh, +Clem, thank heaven," she exclaimed fervently, "I've got something +to believe in at last."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Meanwhile the guardian angel, entirely unconscious of +apotheosis, sat in the little flat in Chelsea blissfully eating +crumpets over which Emmy had spread the preposterous amount of +butter which proceeds from an overflowing heart. She knelt on the +hearth rug watching him adoringly as if he were a hierophant eating +sacramental wafer. They talked of the future. He mentioned the nice +houses he had seen in Berkeley Square.</p> +<p>"Berkeley Square would be very charming," said Emmy, "but it +would mean carriages and motor-cars and powdered footmen and Ascot +and balls and dinner parties and presentations at Court. You would +be just in your element, wouldn't you, dear?"</p> +<p>She laughed and laid her happy head on his knee.</p> +<p>"No, dear. If we want to have a fling together, you and I, in +London, let us keep on this flat as a <i>pied-à-terre</i>. +But let us live at Nunsmere. The house is quite big enough, and if +it isn't you can always add on a bit at the cost of a month's rent +in Berkeley Square. Wouldn't you prefer to live at Nunsmere?"</p> +<p>"You and the boy and my workshop are all I want in the world," +said he.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id= +"Page_315"></a>[315]</span>And not Wiggleswick?"</p> +<p>One of his rare smiles passed across his face.</p> +<p>"I think Wiggleswick will be upset."</p> +<p>Emmy laughed again. "What a funny household it will +be—Wiggleswick and Madame Bolivard! It will be lovely!"</p> +<p>Septimus reflected for an anxious moment. "Do you know, dear," +he said diffidently, "I've dreamed of something all my life—I +mean ever since I left home. It has always seemed somehow beyond my +reach. I wonder whether it can come true now. So many wonderful +things have happened to me that perhaps this, too—"</p> +<p>"What is it, dear?" she asked, very softly.</p> +<p>"I seem to be so marked off from other men; but I've dreamed all +my life of having in my house a neat, proper, real parlor maid in a +pretty white cap and apron. Do you think it can be managed?"</p> +<p>With her head on his knee she said in a queer voice:</p> +<p>"Yes, I think it can."</p> +<p>He touched her cheek and suddenly drew his hand away.</p> +<p>"Why, you're crying! What a selfish brute I am! Of course we +won't have her if she would be in your way."</p> +<p>Emmy lifted her face to him.</p> +<p>"Oh, you dear, beautiful, silly Septimus," she said, "don't you +understand? Isn't it just like you? You give every one else the +earth, and in return you ask for a parlor maid."</p> +<p>"Well, you see," he said in a tone of distressed apology, "she +would come in so handy. I could teach her to mind the guns."</p> +<p>"You dear!" cried Emmy.</p> +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14395 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |